Page 137 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

A burn starts in my chest, whipping through my insides and licking at my bones, torching through my veins and swelling my throat. I breathe deep to keep the ache under control.

I am strong. I am bold. I own my power.

I look toward Papa to see his reaction, but he’s still as stone in his chair, his hand moving back and forth across his head like he can’t be bothered with what’s happening right in front of his face. Like he doesn’t even care. Like it’s just one big headache he’s trying to rub away.

I’ve always looked at Papa as a strong man, but now, all I see is weakness. I don’t know why I continue to let myself be surprised when they disappoint me.

I turn back to Momma. “Have you ever said a single truthful thing in your life, Momma?”

“You should be thankin’ me. I’ve been tryin’ to save you. I do what I have to do in order to protect my family.”

I huff out a laugh because she’s still trying to manipulate me. “No matter who you hurt.”

She scoffs. “Please. You don’t know what hurt is, Rebecca. Grow up.”

Part of me wants to cower away. Lay down in my despair and let her words affect me the way I always have. It’s comfortable to stick with what you know, even if it’s unhealthy.

Another part of me wants to defend my emotions, because how dare she say I don’t know what it means to be hurt, when she and Papa have hurt me the most. But if I do either of those things, she wins. So instead, I take a deep breath and repeat my affirmations.

I am strong. I am bold. I own my power.

I give her no reaction and give my attention to Papa. “So, what about Sally? You chose to make vows to Momma, and you break them like they mean nothin’.”

“What are you goin’ on about now, Rebecca? How do you know anything about me and Sally?” His voice is quiet and breathy, the way it gets after a long day.

“I saw you.”

“You were sloppy, Don,” Momma says. “How else would she know?”

Her voice sends a chill cascading over my body. She’s speaking to him as if this is something normal, like it’s something they’ve discussed a thousand times. And it hits me in this moment, that maybe Papa didn’t sleep with Sally behind Momma’s back.

Maybe he did it with her blessing.

I don’t know for sure, and I don’t want to know. It wo

n’t bring me peace. It won’t help me stitch back together our relationships. I don’t think there’s anything there to mend anyway.

A weight lands in the center of my chest and spreads, sinking my stomach at the realization that in order to truly cut my chains, I have to cut them.

“Rebecca, Sally, and I—”

I raise my hand. “I don’t wanna know, Papa. Truly, nothin’ you say will make a difference.” I close my eyes, trying to find ground in the center of this tornado. When I open them, Momma has moved back to stand by the desk, her hand on Papa’s shoulder.

A picture-perfect moment, even behind closed doors. They deserve each other.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Momma, but I’m stayin’.”

Papa nods. “That’s the right choice.”

I shake my head. “No, you’ve misunderstood me. I’m stayin’ in Sugarlake, but I’m not stayin’ with this church. I’m not stayin’ with this family.”

Momma huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rebecca Jean. If you wanna stay, then stay, but don’t pretend like you’re not gonna be part of this family. The entire town will talk.”

I shrug. “Let ‘em talk.”

“This is absurd,” Papa huffs. “You will get over whatever issue you have with the choices your momma and I have made, and you’ll do your duty to this family.” His fist hits the top of the desk, bringing my eyes to the oak that’s caused me so much discomfort over the years. Now when I look at it, I feel nothing.

It’s not my problem anymore. It never really was.

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