Page 18 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Just like her son, Miranda has a way of voicing words. They cut deep and make you bleed.
She makes a noise to show her distaste towards Ambrose, whom she’s never met. And the sound of her scratchy throat puts me off another mouthful of the pasta. I let my fork go back to the tasteless meal.
“Well, if it is, maybe her mom can inspire her with the paintbrush a little.” Shane looks my way, checking my reaction.
It feels like a silent warning for me to behave.
Does he even care how much he hurts me with his words? How much she does?
The ache in my heart is overridden by a pain in my lip that has me shuddering. I hadn’t even noticed I was pulling at theskin with my teeth until it comes loose, and I taste a tiny amount of blood.
“And what about your job?”
“The commute difference isn’t too bad. Just a few miles,” Shane’s eyes leave me as he answers his father.
“Will you have to speak to her stepbrother?” Miranda whispers to her son, like I’m not here, and this isn’t my childhood home and family she’s talking about.
“We’ll probably have to at some point. He’s in prison for another two years, but he has joint ownership.”
“Well, his share should have been forfeited after what he did. Scum.”
“It wasn’t, but I doubt he’d wanna go back to that town. We drove through last week, and it’s not like before. If we want to sell it, we’ll need to get the place done quickly, way before he gets out. Vandalism is starting around town. And it’s all surrounding him.”
And me.
“There are pictures of clowns painted everywhere.”
A sickly feeling confirms I’m done with dinner after all three mouthfuls, and unlike the child at the next table, still screaming as her parents clear the bill, I do not want dessert.
“Just be careful. He might want half of the money from the sale.” Miranda shrugs. “He doesn’t deserve it, but he might, and you don’t know how vicious he’ll become to get it. Money brings out the worst in people, and you’re dealing with someone who is already evil.”
Says the woman with over fifty thousand dollars stashed in her bedroom ottoman. There have been times when she’s sneered at her son for not being able to afford shopping, and for him being in a relationship with someone who can barely contribute.
So, I guess she’s right. Money does bring out the worst in people.
So does the lack of it. I’m sure that’s why Shane looks down on me. It happens every time he sees his parents.
God help me tonight.
“He’s capable of cold-blooded murder. You don’t want to anger him,” Miranda adds.
A chill runs over my body, and I brush at the goosebumps left behind.
It’s hard to think of Ambrose these days, forgetting the loving and beautiful soul that saved me so many times. The boy who fought demons daily just so I wouldn’t be lonely in life. The boy who’d held me each night as I read us stories from our bookshelf.
When did he become hateful?
Why did he become a monster?
Occupied by a fraying piece of lace on my glove, I get lost in our memories.
I don’t remember the night my parents died. Flashes of them on the ground have appeared in my head ever since we talked about going home, but that whole night is still a blur.
And I thank God for that.
I thank God that I don’t remember Ambrose dressed in blood. The image of him like that in my room is only brought forward by Shane’s words and not my memories.
“He showed up in her room covered in her parents’ blood. She could easily get a restraining order if needed.”
