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“I used to like painting.”
Leah shot her a look. She never knew that. “Did you?”
“Yes, but your father didn’t like it. He said it was the work of the devil.”
“Seriously, Mum, I doubt the devil gives a fuck about the hobbies of suburban housewives.” She put her brush down and looked at Lynne for a long moment. “You know what I think?”
“What’s that?”
“I think Dad said that stuff, to you and to me, so he could control everything we did.”
Lynne held her hand up in an instinctively repelling gesture.
“Think about it. Honestly, why would the devil care, even slightly, if you pick up a paint brush on the odd occasion. But Dad cares. Because he doesn’t want you having anything for yourself.” She started to feel stirred up, so took another sip of tea. If she really let go right now, if she told her mother everything she thought about David Kaplan, her mother would have a nervous breakdown. She had to go easy. “Take your nail polish, for example.”
“What about my nail polish?”
“You’re nervous about Dad coming home tomorrow and seeing it, aren’t you?”
“A little.”
“Why should you be nervous about that? They’re your nails. You can do whatever you like with them. Do you tell Dad what to do? What hobbies he’s allowed? What to wear? Do you make him report his day to you?”
Lynne shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“No, of course not. And it’s not fair that he does that to you. That he used to do it to me. Like we were his property, not our own people. I’ve had enough of that, Mum. Haven’t you?” Leah’s heart tripped when Lynne nodded wordlessly. “Good. Okay. So when Dad comes home tomorrow, he’s going to crack the shits about the nail polish and you know what we’re going to do?”
Lynne shook her head.
“We’re going to say, fuck you, to him.”
Lynne gasped. “I can’t do that.”
“Fine. I don’t blame you. But I can. And I will. I’m going out tomorrow night, though, and I don’t want to leave you here alone after I’ve upset him. Can I take you somewhere on my way out? I’ll pick you up and bring you back, so you aren’t here alone.”
Lynne hesitated. “I suppose I could visit Helen.”
“Aunty Helen?” Leah couldn’t hide her surprise. Helen was a dirty word in the Kaplan household. She despised her brother-in-law and never made any effort to hide the fact. At Lynne’s nod, Leah said, “Great. That’s perfect.” Satisfied, she turned back to her painting.
???
Leah couldn’t smother the flurry of nerves she felt the next evening when she heard her father’s car pull up in the drive. She chided herself as she finished putting on her makeup at the bathroom mirror. There really wasn’t much he could do to her. She seriously doubted he’d get violent and anything else she felt confident she could handle. But still, there were years of conditioning to overcome. As she swiped some lip gloss across her lips, she thought to herself,What would Mikayla do?Although she doubted she had the ability to make her father piss his pants, the idea made her smile and gave her courage.
Lynne appeared in the bathroom doorway, wringing her hands. “Your father’s home.”
“I know. You ready?” It was a simple question and could be taken in more ways than one. Are you ready to leave? Are you ready to face down the controlling bastard who has ruled your life for way too long? Lynne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Leah let out a breath of her own when her mother nodded. “Let’s go, then.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs just as David walked through the front door. The three of them stood in a frozen tableau for a long moment. Then David flicked a glance over Lynne. Like a radar, he zeroed in on her painted nails. Driven by instinct, Leah stepped in front of Lynne as she saw something terrible flare in his eyes. “Hi, Dad. We’re just heading out.” David’s gaze moved to Leah. If looks could flay, this one would have. But Leah stood her ground and raised her chin. “Mum’s made you dinner. It’s warming in the oven. We’ll be back later.” She took a step towards the door, allowing a little spurt of relief to flare at how easy it seemed to be. But as she moved past her father, he grabbed her upper arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His words were like an axe on ice. Grating and glacial.
Leah looked down at his stubby fingers, wrapped around her arm, raised her eyes to his. “Let go of me.”
“I said, where are you going?” He tightened his fingers.
“Fuck you. I said, let go of me.” She used the swear word coldly, deliberately. Knowing it would anger him. But she needed to stand this ground. She needed to win this battle. The moment rested on a knife’s edge. Leah saw violence flicker in her father’s eyes. Followed by hatred. Last of all, she saw weakness. The light of a bully that had finally been called out. He released her arm. Leah stepped back, waiting for her mother to pass behind her and scurry out of the house. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she closed the front door behind them. She walked to her car on shaking legs.
“You okay?”
