Page 106 of Beautifully Broken
“Make sure you photographeveryonethat’s here. I want to ensure we don’t miss anyone when we add the photos to the website,” she tells him sternly, with a hand on her hip.
Bless Trevor for dealing with her.
“Of course, Cheryl,” he confirms with a smile. “I’m going to get back to taking pictures.”
Trevor leaves her standing there and I can’t blame him. My mom can be overbearing and controlling. I understand this is her business and livelihood, but I wish she would treat the other staff members nicer.
Stepping out from behind the tree, I pass by my mother when she grabs my arm. “I really don’t understand why you have to be so friendly with Trevor?”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Mom. We’re colleagues. I’m friendly with everyone at work. It makes the office a nicer place to be.”
She scoffs. “We’ll discuss this later, along with other things,” she says before walking off to rejoin the party. Her threat leaves me agitated.
Beads of sweat gather across my forehead and I think I’m going to be sick as the threat of a looming discussion wages a mental battle in my head.
Chapter 2
The running water from the sink masks the sound of me flushing the toilet. Walking over to the sink to wash my hands and ensure vomit didn’t make its way onto my clothes, I grab a tissue to wipe my mouth.
This is the part I hate. Having to look at myself in the mirror afterwards. My watery eyes are bloodshot, and I look exhausted from my muscles tightening repeatedly before the violent release stopped.
As I grab another tissue to fix the mess under my eyes, I mentally kick myself. I should know by now that this is what happens, but every time, I’m still faced with the self-hatred that I allow her to affect me the way she does.
Knock, knock.
And there she is. She must have watched me come inside the house.
“I’ll be right out,” I shout over the running water.
Taking one last glance in the mirror to make sure I look “put together enough”—my mom’s words, not mine—I turn the water off and make my way into the hallway.
Dragging my feet, I head straight for the kitchen, where I know she is waiting for me. At least everyone is outside in the back, so there isn’t anyone here to witness her berating me.
Heaven forbid someone should hear how big of a bitch she is.
Mom is standing by the open back door of the deck, letting in the summer air. At the sound of my footsteps, she turns around and heads towards me.
My mom scowls as she looks down at my pink floral sundress and black flip-flops. “Really, Sophia? You couldn’t wear something more appropriate for today? You know how important this event is,” she scolds.
Personally, I think I’m wearing the perfect outfit for this party. I didn’t want to sweat my ass off in jeans and a t-shirt, not that jeans and a t-shirt would’ve been an acceptable outfit either.
It’s the constant picking at everything about me that is the cause for why I do what I do. She makes me feel so bad about myself. Like I’m not good enough for anything or anyone. What’s worse is I can’t get away from her. I still live at home. She pays most of the bills and I work for her. The only reprieve I get comes on my solo drive into the office.
“What’s wrong with my outfit today, Mom?” I question, feeling defeated that I’ve disappointed her yet again.
She motions with her hand up and down my body. “It makes your arms look huge. Are you still on your diet and exercise routine?” she replies.
“Mom, I’ve literally worn this out with you at least a dozen times. You’ve never said anything about it before. Why is this an issue today?” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“I’ve never seen you in that dress before, Sophia. I swear,” she says, turning away to walk out onto the deck.
Patiently, I wait to head in the same direction, hoping my mom won’t call me to follow her. Stepping onto the deck, I spot Trevor taking pictures and walk over to him.
I lean on the railing next to him. “How’s it going?”
He turns his head and smiles at me. The butterflies returning to their home in my stomach and I stare out at the party to avoid getting lost in the blue sky of his eyes. “Good. How are you holding up?”
“Oh, you know, living my best life,” I tell him with a chuckle.
