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Lies, lies, lies.
Still, I continue to lie.
“You are not someone I feel the need to talk to. You are not someone I feel the need to have long chats with anymore. You showed me exactly who you were all those years ago, and I don’t feel the need to get to know that person again. Let me be, please.” I thought it would work, really. Telling him straight out, hitting below the belt.
But somehow, his eyes shift to be more determined instead of hurt, more focused instead of backing off.
“You’re punishing me, pushing me away because of who I used to be, but I don’t even know that man anymore, Stella. How is that fair, paying penance for a person I’m not?”
“And here I am, paying penance for the person you were then?” I ask. “That’s life. It’s not fair, Riggins. I learned that a long time ago.” Then I finally leave, walking into the restaurant and ignoring Amelia’s burning eyes on me.
I don’t know when he leaves, but it’s before I go out to check on him. There’s cash tucked under his plate with the receipt, enough for his meal and a healthy tip I don’t need or want.
What I do want is the printed-out photo of Gracie with,Gracie, 1 year old in New Mexico,scribbled in all too familiar scrawl on the back that he also left behind.
And below that,
You’ve still got all my love.
7 TIDAL
NOW
STELLA
“Hello, Mother,” I say, walking into my parents’ home for family dinner. Even though I try to put some emotion into it, I know I fail when her all-seeing look scans me. The weekly family dinner at my childhood home isn’t nearly as optional as my mother makes it seem, though Evie gets a much larger pass, considering she’s often on assignment.
Thankfully, my twin will be here tonight because the cruel, emotionless look my mother is giving me makes it clear she’s in one of her moods.
“No makeup?” she asks in lieu of a greeting. I fight a sigh.
“I worked all day, and I'm not…” I pause. “I’m not feeling too well.” She stares again for a moment, assessing me before rolling her eyes and stepping aside to let me in.
The house hasn’t changed since I last lived here when I was 19, right before she kicked me out. Even when things with Riggins and Atlas Oaks came crumbling down, I didn’t move back home; instead, I stayed with my sister until I found a place of my own.
Even now, this place still feels like a prison.
“This again,” she says, exasperated. Like many in her generation, my mother thinks any claims of mental health degrading are just a weakness, a laziness my generation created.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Oh, I know you are. This dramatic stint of yours… I would’ve thought you outgrew it by now.” Now I really do sigh.
“You can’t outgrow depression, mother.” Her eye roll is almost audible as I toe off my shoes and hang my light jacket.
I should have just put on the fucking makeup; I already can feel the animosity between us growing.
“Depression. What do you have to be depressed about, Stella? If anyone should be depressed, it’s me. Stuck in this town, my daughter constantly telling me how miserable I’ve made her life and refusing to make it any better.” I take a deep breath, then move to the kitchen to get a drink: anything to distract myself.
This is not a new conversation.
I just need to endure it until she’s done.
“I just don’t understand,” she says, her voice trailing behind me. “What could you be so depressed about?”
Thankfully, my father is in the kitchen. A tall, broad, quiet man with greying dark hair, my father was never one to argue with my mother. But as the years have gone on, he’s more likely to tell her to stop, at the very least.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, walking over to him and letting him pull me into a hug.
