Page 155 of Catch Me
“Shonda …” my father says.
“No, if he wants to stand here and insult us like this, the least he should do is get his facts straight.” There’s a beat of silence before she says, “She’s not even our daughter.”
“What?”
Everyone, including Mya who’d been silent until now, turns to face me. I stride up the hallway, glaring at my mother.
“What did you just say?”
A flash of guilt invades my mother’s eyes. But then she lifts her chin.
“It’s true,” she confirms. “You’re not even our daughter.”
A new ache in my chest starts.
“Gloria was young when she had you,” my father says.
“Aunt Gloria?”
My father pinches his lips, looking away for a second before nodding. “Yes. She was only sixteen when she gave birth to you. Your mother and I wanted a third child but,” he glances over at my mother, “we were having trouble.”
“So, I was the solution to yourtrouble?”
“It was the most logical solution,” my mother says. “Gloria was completely incapable of taking care of a child responsibly. Not with her silly dreams of wanting to work on Broadway. How was she going to afford a baby? And it’s what your grandparents wanted as well.
“They would’ve had a terrible time explaining to their church and community why their sixteen-year-old child had a baby of her own. So we stepped up and took you in. We made sacrifices for you.”
Her tone makes me cringe.
“And you made me pay for them in every way you could think of, didn’t you?”
Her mouth slackens, shock invading her expression.
“Not one day went by that you let me forget that I owed you a debt even if you never explicitly let me know what the debt was,” I say.
All of the times as a kid I questioned why my parents seemed to resent me more than love me. I tried over and over to figure out what I did wrong.
Turns out it was nothing I did.
They resented me for not being theirs.
“What are you doing here now?” I fold my arms across my chest.
“We heard about your …” my father pauses to clear his throat, “trouble.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” Mya says, a pleading note in her voice. “They called yesterday, and I just told them you weren’t feeling well. I think they figured out you had another big panic attack.”
“Yes,” my mother intervenes. “Which is why we’re here. I told you this place wasn’t for you. Told you there’s no way you would make it?—”
“You’re pushing it.” Andreas’ voice slices through the air, silencing everyone.
Even Ms. Shelby stops walking past and narrows her eyes in my mother’s direction.
“Yes, I had another panic attack because I have a panic disorder,” I say for the first time out loud to my parents. “It’s bound to happen from time to time, and I’ll be damned if I’m ashamed of it.”
This time it’s me who raises my chin to look both of my parents in their eyes.
