Page 18 of Touch of Fondness

“You act like he was awife beater, but he wasn’t!”

“Ineversaidhe abused me!”

“Lita said you lied about that and that was why Dad left!”

Brielle could almost feel her heart thump out of her chest. Had this been going on all the time since she’d gone to college? She didn’t remember things being quite so heated between her mom and sister when she’d last been here for holidays or the previous summer.

Their mom turned that pointer finger accusingly at Nora. “I neveronce saidtoanyonethat your father beat me, and if your grandmother is saying that’s whathesaid, then one or both of them are liars! Which doesn’t surprise me!”

“You don’t evenknowLita! You never went to Puerto Rico to visit her, not even once, despite being married for nearly a decade!”

“Your father didn’twant meto meet his family, probably because he wasstill marriedto a woman there and I didn’t even find out that our marriage was a sham until I’d been with him for eight years and had had two daughters!”

Even though her mom had told Brielle the truth in private when she’d turned eighteen, it still kind of blew when shrieked like that at high volumes. She’d asked her mom if Nora knew, and she said she would wait until she was older. Brielle didnotthink this was the right moment for that revelation.

Nora clenched her fists together at her sides. Her lip was shaking and tears were threatening to spill out from her eyes. “You’re lying! Lita said you were a liar!”

Their mom crossed her arms. “Did she mention your father’s real wife to you?”

“No, because you’re just a hateful, bitter old woman who just wants me to stay home so I can work as your slave like Bri does!”

Brielle wasn’t sure that being in her late forties qualified their mom as an “old woman.” But as soon as she thought that, she realized she was being the adult in the room, and she wasn’t quite sure she was comfortable in that position.

Their mom crossed her arms and bit her lip. She looked about to cry, too. “Youdon’tknow what you’re talking about!”

“Yeah, I do, and I’mgoingto that camp. You can kick me out of your house if you want to, but Iwon’t care. I’ll go live with Lita.”

“In Puerto Rico?”

Nora was already heading toward the hallway, the dinner uneaten. Their mom trailed after her. “Your grandmother hasno legal rightto you, and if you do run off to live with her, I can report you as a runaway and have you back here before you can blink!”

Nora spun around, practically knocking Brielle over. “When I’m eighteen, I can do anything I want.”

Their mom scoffed. “Sure. If you have the money to do it.”

“Oh, Iwill,” said Nora, heading to her room. “Because I’ll be certified multilingual and I’ll actually have a chance to get agood job, not be a floor scrubber!” She slammed the door behind her.

Brielle watched the closed door for a few moments, staring at it even after Nora blasted a Taylor Swift tune like a scene straight out of a movie.I was neverthatbad, was I?Brielle really didn’t think she was.

“Where’s your job offer, huh?”

For a second, Brielle thought her mom was shouting it at Nora in response to finding that “good job” because she’d be multilingual. (Multiple members of the Scrubbing Cherubs’ staff were multilingual—about half were immigrants—so Brielle failed to see the correlation.) But when she turned, she found her mom full-out glowering ather, like she’d just been the one to insult her mom’s business and make her scream about her marital failure.

“What?” she said, stunned, although the gears in her head were already turning to make sense of the question.

Her mom tossed her hands in the air and rolled her eyes. “The offer for the job you’re supposedly looking for. The job hunt that’ssupposed to be your priority!”

Brielle was so taken aback, she actually took a step back. “I’ve been busy… Working…”

“Yeah, so have we all.” Her mom stepped over to the table to grab her phone and then snatched her purse off the counter along with her car keys. She sniffed audibly, obviously trying to stop herself from crying, but Brielle was too hurt to care much at the moment. Her mom left out the back door, letting it slam behind her almost as loudly as Nora’s bedroom door.

The steaming pot of pasta and the smaller pot splashed red with sauce sat lonely in the middle of the kitchen table as Brielle heard her mom’s car exiting out of the garage and driving away. (Brielle was relieved she’d parked on the street as usual, so her mom didn’t come back in in a foul mood demanding she remove her vehicle from her path.)

Brielle felt her own well of tears filling up and swallowed hard.Screw it, she told herself.I’m not letting her take it out on me.

She ignored the cooling dinner and went to her room to change before making her own getaway.

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