Page 37 of Three Pucking Words
Having a mother who cared more about the new man in her life than her own offspring was a punch to the gut. I’d gotten used to her being MIA, which made it all too easy when my father would wind up leaving during my time with him. I held onto a lot of resentment for that. Why couldn’t I have had at leastoneparent who cared? I got to see Mila’s parents interact with her—treat me like one of their own. So why not my own mother and father?
The thought, the ugly jealous feeling that claws its way out of my stomach and up my throat, leaves a sour, bitter taste in my mouth.
It also makes me feel other types of things.
Nostalgic. Sad. A little mad. And it reminds me of what Mila told me about being honest with myself more often.
I’m still a little mad.
Still confused.
And it’s tiring.
“I know I haven’t been kind to you,” I start, letting out a short breath. “And I’m sorry for that, Sylvia. You don’t deserve myattitude. It’s not an excuse, but I’m so used to my mother being a certain way that I just expect everybody to be the same. And when you came into my dad’s life, it seemed like he finally had everything he ever wanted. And I wasn’t one of those things.”
My stepmother frowns fully, losing whatever trace of a smile she held onto. “That’s not true at all, Honor.”
Isn’t it? “How many times did he put work before me? How many times did you get saddled with me while I watched his taillights disappear down the road for days at a time when I was supposed to spend time withhim? I get that his profession is demanding. I see it now more than ever since accepting a position with the team and seeing the season schedule. But try making a kid understand that when she was already ditched by one parent.”
Years of anger and sadness bubble in my stomach, threatening to boil over like a pot of water left on the stove. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, refusing to let the past clench its talons around me.
“Sweetie, your father knew you needed stability in your life,” Sylvia counters. “If he’d taken you with him every time he had a game, you wouldn’t have had any routine. He wanted to give you a life that your mother couldn’t. That meant he had to leave you with me until he could come back. It wasn’t easy for him.”
I scoff in disbelief. “I’m sure it was hard. That’s why he didn’t call when he was away or apologize for going.”
“Itwas,” she argues firmly. If she could pin me with a look right now, I’m sure she would. “I know for a fact he called multiple times, but you’d lock me out of your room and never open the door when he was on the phone. And I don’t blame you, Honor. I know you’re upset with him. You had an unfair childhood and feel like he picked his job over you. But he was trying his best to be a good dad in the only way he knew how. Hedidn’t want to contribute to the chaos that your mother put you through. The things that he’s done, he’s doneforyou.”
I stare at my lap, my fingers locked around themselves. She used to knock on my door at night and ask me if she could come in, but I don’t remember if she’d ever said that my father was on the phone. Would I have cared? Probably not. I acted out because it was the only way I knew how to react to things. I’d throw tantrums. I’d lock myself in my room and refuse to eat; refuse to talk to her. I was mean to her more than I should have been and justified it for years.
It was easier to stay irritated at my father rather than see his side of things because my mother always blamed him for how their relationship ended.“I needed to get out, baby,” she’d tell me as she brushed my hair. “He wasn’t good for us. He gaveupon us. We deserve better than him. And I’m going to find someone better.”
Except, she was never searching for someone better for us, only for her. For someone smart enough to see how her mother functions, I never realized the manipulation she put me through my whole life. If it weren’t for her, would I have a better relationship with my father? Would I have tried to forgive him? To see his side of things?
Sylvia’s hand touches mine briefly before going back to the wheel. “I will never replace your mother and father,” she tells me earnestly. “But that will never change that I’m here if you need me. I didn’t get a chance to have kids of my own, so I’ve always considered you my daughter. I know you have Isabella, that you’ve thought of her as a second mom to you, but one day I hope you consider me in your corner too.”
There’s a lot to unpack here, and it’s going to take a lot longer than the time I have left in the ride with her.
If she’s willing to look past my bratty behavior, shouldn’t I give her the same courtesy? Trying is the least I can do.
So, after clearing my throat and fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, I say, “Okay.”
It’s a promise to try, and her smile reappears as if it never left.
I clear my throat. “But I’m not carrying the rape whistle.
Sylvia laughs. “That’s fine.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bodhi
Honor sits onthe couch cushion closest to the door, periodically looking at it every few minutes as if she’s debating whether or not to run.
She hasn’t fidgeted too much since sitting down, although her eyes were distant and downtrodden the entire time we ate dinner. It’s clear there’s something on her mind, but I don’t know if it’s my business to ask.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything other than water to drink?” I ask, watching her squirm.
She rubs her palms up and down her denim-clad thighs. “No.” Her lips flatten before she offers me a stiff smile. “Thank you, though.”
