Page 80 of Love Fast

Marion’s eyes are glassy. I don’t want her to cry. I don’t want any of them to face the consequences of missing me too.

Unless.

Unless.

Unless I could encourage them to break free as well. They’ve all finished high school. None of them have to be here. I can’t scoop them up and bundle them into the back of a cab, but maybe I can give them hope.

I glance back to Mom, whose gaze is stuck on the TV. She’s so mad, she can’t even look at me.

I look at my sisters, trying to convey, without words, how much I love them. I have to tread a tightrope. I want to show them how good it feels to be independent, but at the same time I don’t want to make their lives more difficult when I leave.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I say to them, not looking at my mother.

“Exactly what I was about to say to you,” my mother hisses, suddenly coming back to life, as if she knows what I’m saying threatens her. Like she thinks there might be a chance my sisters will listen to me and break free from her. “Why are you here anyway? I’ve burned all your things. There’s nothing left for you here. Just get out.”

Even though I’ve always known my mom can be cruel and nasty and hurtful, I don’t think it’s until this moment that I realize she doesn’t love me. Not like a mother should. She doesn’t love my sisters either. If she did, she wouldn’t lash out like this. She’s not concerned about how I’m feeling, where I’ve been, how I’ve been surviving. All she cares about is herself. Aren’t all mothers supposed to love their children? Mom doesn’t love any of us.

Of course she doesn’t love me. She can’t. It’s not in her.

The last thread of attachment I have to this woman withers and dies. A deep sense of sadness settles over me. It’s grief for the mother I should have had.

“You deserve a happy life,” I say to my sisters, pushing down the feelings of betrayal I feel straining to get to the surface. “You don’t exist to serve this woman, even though she’s your mom.”

“I thought I told you to get out.” She switches off the TV and turns to face me.

“I will not,” I say, meeting her eye to eye for the first time since I arrived. “I own this trailer. For now. I can stay as long as I like.”

I’ve never spoken to my mother like this. Never stood up to her, stood against her.

She narrows her eyes like she’s just waiting for the right time to strike back, then she snaps her head around to my sisters. “Get back to your room. You don’t need to see this.”

Marion scuttles off back into the bedroom. It hurts, but I can’t blame her. She’s sweeping up hair at a salon. She’s the only one who might not be able to afford her own place, even without giving up most of her paycheck to Mom.

“Mom,” Kitty cries. “Don’t be mean to her. She’s our sister.”

“She’s no daughter of mine,” she spits. “She always was a troublemaker. She’s a little bitch. She’s probably been sleeping in a bus shelter since she left here. She’s got a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving. And that’s what she deserves. Hell!”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Years of pent-up frustration just spills out of me and it comes out as laughter. I don’t know why, but she seems so pathetic, spouting off the most awful things about her daughter. A daughter who’s devoted her life to her.

It’s so clear to me. The lack of love and care is everywhere. It’s not that she’s selfish and mean and cruel. She doesn’t love us. Doesn’t care if we live or die. A part of me dies at the realization, but the rest of me is free—truly free.

“Do you see it?” I ask Kitty and Lydia. “You only exist to serve her. If you escape, she doesn’t want to know you. Because you no longer serve a purpose.”

“That’s right,” Mom interrupts. “That’s why they’re here. With me. You can get out.”

“Is that what you want?” I ask my sisters, ignoring Mom. “To be stuck serving a woman who’d disown you as soon as you do something she doesn’t like—like try and create a life for yourself?”

Panic and fear fill Lydia’s and Kitty’s faces, but they don’t flee to the bedroom. Part of them wants to hear this.

“There’s a way out. And I can help you,” I say. I’m sure I can get them jobs at the Colorado Club. What’s left of my savings could get them cheap flights out to Colorado. It would be tight, but I could do it. “It’s frightening. I get it. But when you’re ready—when you see what she’s really like and you decide you don’t want to put up with it anymore—I’ll be waiting.”

“That’s it, get out of this house.” Mom stands and moves toward me. I don’t need to know what happens if I say no. I’ve said what I came to say.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Lydia and Kitty. I need to leave. I haven’t gotten my things or even the papers to the trailer that I came for, but I’ll have to figure out another way. There’s no way I can force my way into the bedroom and start going through things. Even if I technically still own this trailer, my mother will find a way to punish me or my sisters. I hadn’t planned for things to go like this, but I know I’ve done the right thing. I’ve given my sisters an alternative to the life they have. Hopefully, I’ve planted a seed, given them something to think about, convinced them that life beyond this trailer and Mom is possible.

Mom steps toward me, and I back away. She grins, like my acquiescence fuels her power—like she’s only happy when I’m weak. Except I’m not. Not anymore. Because I’ve found a place where I’m free of her.

I bolt out the door, sick to my stomach with the scent of orange and the hatred in my mother’s eyes.

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