Page 50 of All Along

“Um…” I bite my lip as I try to come up with a lie. Mom hates to be ignored. Never mind how she’s ignored me for years.

“Um. Ah. Still the same old shy girl who can’t stand up for herself?”

I stood up for Mom once – it was one of the most difficult things I’ve done in my life – and look where it got me. Kicked out of the house at eighteen and ignored for more than a decade.

“Hi, Mom.”

I hate calling this woman my mother. She was never a mother to me. She never shielded me from Dad’s rage. She never nurtured or cared for me. She was too busy catering to all Dad’s needs and wants. Fat lot of good it did her.

“Hi, Mom,” she mimics.

Wonderful. We’ve reached the ‘making fun of Maya’ portion of the evening. And here I was worried there wouldn’t be time for it.

“I need to…” I trail off when I notice the man making his way down the aisle. My hands tighten on the cart until my fingernails dig into my palms.

“Roger,” Mom hollers to my dad. “Guess who I ran into?”

Dad glowers at Mom before glancing my way. His eyes are the same shade of brown as mine but they’re devoid of any emotion. With those flat eyes, it’s a mystery to me how the inhabitants of Smuggler’s Island don’t recognize Dad for what he is – a monster.

“What are you doing here?” Dad asks.

I want to snark at him. Ask him what he thinks I’m doing at a grocery store. But those empty eyes hold me entranced and words won’t form.

“Um…”

Mom snorts. “For the life of me, I can’t understand why you think you’re so much better than us. You can’t even form words or speak properly.”

I do not think I’m better than them. I’m just me. I’m not better or worse than any other person. But Mom is convinced I think I’m better than her because I refuse to accept Dad’s abuse.Standing up for myself is not the same as thinking I’m better than anyone.

“I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“What did you say?” Mom shouts her question. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of the background music.”

Dad chuckles. “Maya always was a little scared mouse.”

I am not a mouse. Was I scared in his house? Hell, yeah, I was. Any child would have been.

Even Mom was scared. She won’t admit it, but her eyes were filled with fright every time Dad came home from work. But when she was offered an out, she didn’t take it. For some reason, it’s all my fault. Dad’s abuse. Her refusal to leave. All of it. My fault.

I notice people have stopped shopping to watch our interaction. My face warms even further under their scrutiny.

“I… ah… should be…” I try to wheel my cart away but Mom won’t release her hold on it. I wiggle the cart but she doesn’t budge. I could probably break away. But I’m not hurting her. That’s my dad’s job.

“But we haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.” She tries to make her voice sound sweet but it reminds me of nails on a chalkboard.

I grit my teeth. “Catch up?”

Mom and Dad haven’t talked to me in years and now they want to catch up? What’s going on? Why are they torturing me? Why would—

I’m such an idiot. The answer is obvious. They want to bring me down a peg.

They usually let me live my life. But now that I have something – someone – to lose they’re using this opportunity to try and ruin my happiness.

They always ruin my happiness. When I came home from school excited about my good grades or winning a spelling bee or getting the top grade on a math test, they’d set in on me. Tease me or torture me with nasty words until I learned to keep things to myself.

“I want to hear all about how the plain mouse managed to snag the hottest man on Smuggler’s Hideaway,” Mom says.

Dad laughs. “They must be faking it. Caleb would never dare to date Maya.”

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