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“Cordelia, dear, please. You’re making a scene.”
“I’m making a—?”
I cut myself off, glaring at her. My jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt, but I sucked in air through my nostrils, trying to ignore the smell of perfume and cologne and sex that permeated the room.
I breathed in. Out.
Then I turned, slamming the door behind me.
Fourteen
Sitting on my bed half an hour later, I listened to the muffled conversation coming from Mom and Mr. Jemison.
They were showering. Together. As if I wasn’t in the other room, as if I hadn’t walked in on them having sex, as if this was nothing.
My father was in jail, and my mom was having sex with a man who should be miles and miles away from us. He should be on the other side of Baltimore, with his own fucking family. He shouldn’t be in this house. He shouldn’t be touching my goddamn mother.
As I sat there, it all clicked in my mind—everything I had tried so hard not to see, not to acknowledge for the past several weeks. Her suddenly lifted spirits. Her getting dressed up, wearing makeup every day. The days when she was out of the house for seemingly no reason, at hours that simply didn’t make sense.
My stomach dropped. Is that where she got the car? Was it from him? A… gift?
How could she do this? Did my father mean nothing to her? Did the fact that he was in jail, that he might not even deserve to be there, mean so little to her that it was easy to find herself in the arms of another man?
It sickened me, made me ill and furious in a way I’d never thought I could feel toward my own mom. I wanted to scratch out my eyes, to scrub the image of her body entwined with his from my memory, but I knew there was nothing on earth that could bleach that sight from my mind. It burned behind my eyelids as surely as the sounds they’d made had seared themselves to my ears.
Eventually, the shower shut off. More muffled voices sounded down the hall, then two sets of footsteps padded toward the front door. I heard it open and close before a car outside revved its engine and took off down the street.
Silence filled the house. I sat still, feeling somehow both numb and angry, waiting.
I didn’t have to wait long.
A moment later, a knock came at my door, and I looked up as Mom opened it. She was freshly showered and dressed, wearing a tasteful outfit. She didn’t look like someone who’d just been caught cheating by her daughter. She folded her arms and looked down at me, leaning one shoulder against the door frame.
“Now, Cordelia, before we go any further, I think you owe me an apology.”
Fury lit up my veins like a spark of fire. I straightened, nostrils flaring as I glared at her.
“An apology? For what?”
“For your rude behavior just now. It was entirely uncalled for. You know better than to just burst into someone’s room—”
“You’re literally fucking someone while your husband is in jail!” My shout filled the room, echoed, and rendered my mom silent as she stared at me, shocked at the outburst. I lowered my voice to a hiss, rising from the bed to stalk toward her. “You’re fucking some other man, and the worst part is, he’s someone Dad knows! He’s someone you wouldn’t have even deemed worthy of talking to before all this shit happened, but now he’s good enough for you to spread your legs for? And you’re lecturing me on coming into your room? Are you serious right now? Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“You don’t understand, Cordelia.” My mom’s voice was even and cold, her face an unreadable mask. “You don’t understand, because you’re still young. You still believe in fairytales, even after everything. But life isn’t a fairytale. It’s hard and messy, and you do what you have to in order to survive.”
She came closer, putting her hands on my shoulders, holding me in place as I tried to shrug out of her grasp. I glared at her as she continued.
“Who do you think bought that car outside? Hm? Who do you think is going to make it possible for you to start having all the things you used to before your father landed himself in prison? Everything in life comes down to wealth and status, Cordelia. Without that, we have nothing.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying to me. I gaped at her, honestly disgusted at what she was implying.
“Father’s in jail, and you’re blaming him, so to… what, get out of poverty, you’re screwing someone who’s half the man he is just to get a fraction of our old life back?”
“I’m doing this for us, Cordelia. I’m doing this for you.”
I scoffed. It all made sense now. The heightened attitude, the way she seemed to be floating on sunshine lately. It wasn’t that she was getting better, or that she was coping with our new situation. It was that she’d found a fucking sugar daddy.
“That’s straight bullshit, trying to make it sound like you’re doing this for us and not just for yourself,” I snapped at her. “Don’t lie to me.”
