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“God damn it, Tom. Why can’t you be supportive just once? The church is important to me. I just want to share something that means a lot to me with the people I love. So put that spoon down and fold your hands and pray with me!” she shrieked.
Dad and I shared a look but ultimately did as we were asked. It was easier that way.
I realized I had spent most of my life going the easy route. Avoiding messy complications to not risk my heart. Holding my tongue when Mac would make an insensitive comment. Not telling Robert that he hurt me by not opening up.
My friends thought I was a no-nonsense woman who spoke her mind. They had no idea how much I kept to myself to not put myself out there for people to see the real me. It was hard for me to really open up. To expose the sensitive underbelly that I kept hidden from the world.
I had the two people sitting across from me to thank for that.
Dinner passed as expected with traded barbs and hurled insults. And when they exhausted their verbal jousting match, Mom and Dad turned their attention to me.
“You’ve lost weight. Are you sick?” Mom asked, making a face as she attempted to swallow the lasagna.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I quipped.
“How’s the house? Have you fixed the stairs yet? You’ll break your neck if you don’t keep that place fixed up,” Dad warned.
“It’s been fixed for three months now, Dad.” I put my fork down. I couldn’t force myself to eat another bite.
“That’s good. I was worried about that,” he grumbled. If he was so worried, why didn’t he offer to fix it himself? Oh, that’s right, he just liked to complain about what I wasn’t doing instead.
Mom steepled her hands beneath her chin. “I was thinking the other day, that you and Mac were due to get married this month.”
Ouch. Okay, that hurt. Mom was going straight for the jugular tonight.
“And your point?” I asked sharply.
“Skylar, don’t backtalk to your mother,” Dad snapped. He’d bash my mother all day long, but the second I stood up for myself, he liked to run to her rescue.
Mom reached out and covered his hand with hers in a mimic of solidarity. This was the part where they’d team up to tear me down.
“I think it’s a shame the two of you couldn’t work it out, is all I’m saying,” she went on.
“He was an ass—”
“Language, Skylar,” Dad warned.
“Fine, he was a jerk. He took all my money and spent it on porn. And not just any porn, but teenage girls taking their clothes off. Is that the kind of guy you wanted to welcome into the family?” I threw back at her.
Mom pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re so judgmental, Skylar. You’ll end up alone at this rate, particularly if you don’t learn how to forgive.”
My mouth gaped open. I looked from her to my dad.
“Did you hear anything I said? Are you for real?”
Dad frowned. “Your mom has forgiven me for a lot of things over the years and look how happy we are. We’ve been married for thirty years this winter.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Had they been smoking crack before I showed up? What kind of world were they inhabiting that they thought they were the poster children for healthy relationships?
“What’s funny?” he demanded.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Skylar. Not every woman can afford to be picky.” She gave me a pointed look.
That was my cue to get the hell out of there.
I got to my feet and pulled out my phone, making a show of looking at the time. “I’ve really got to get going. I have work to do this evening.”
“You just got here. I made banana cream pie,” Mom complained.
“I told you I couldn’t stay long. And I hate banana cream pie,” I reminded her.
“No, you don’t. You love it,” she argued.
“It’s your favorite, Mom. I’ve never liked the stuff.” I picked up my purse and pulled out my keys. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
And without another word I left, ignoring the argument that started as soon as I walked out of the room.
Chapter Eight
Robert
I was edgy. I couldn’t relax. I was finishing up my last session of the night for one of my repeat customers. The woman who insisted on paying me far more than I usually charged. I was moving my body to the music, but I couldn’t focus. My dancing was robotic and without feeling. I was off my game; I could feel it.
It had been five days since Tiffany came into my office and I was waiting for her to pop up again. I knew she would, but it was not knowing when that was driving me crazy. I looked out for her when I went to get my coffee in the morning. I grit my teeth in anticipation every time my phone rang. I curled my hands into fists when I’d hear someone come into the office during the day.
