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“What are you doing back there?” Mom comes from out of the crowd, her eyes bloodshot and narrowed on me.
“What’s wrong, Momma?”
“Dwayne said you wouldn’t give him any ham? That you were a cunt to him?”
I flinch at how casual she levies the awful word at me.
“Mona, would you like me to go get more ham?” Bee asks, trying to head her off.
“No, I’d like my only daughter to get her head out of her twat and be more polite to her stepdaddy’s friends.”
“Don’t call him that,” I say, rubbing at the sharp ache in my back.
“That’s what he was. I know you had some pathetic schoolgirl crush on him, but he wasmine.”
“He was your pimp,” I say, losing my patience for her bullshit. “And there was no crush.” The ache in my back intensifies and I roll my knuckles into it.
“He was my husband and your stepfather.”
“Whatever, Momma. Fine.” I’m barely focusing on her because the pain is so sharp.
“You okay, Megan?” Bee asks.
“She’s fine,” Momma hisses. “Just being dramatic. Trying to make this all about her.”
“I don’t think—”
“She’s at a fucking funeral and she can’t even make it ten minutes without making a fuss and trying to be the center of attention.” Her voice raises as the contraction or whatever it was starts to ebb.
I keep massaging through it. At this moment, I wish Derek was here to show me whatever it was he was doing to Freddy on that damn yoga ball.
“If you don’t want me here, I’ll gladly leave,” I say, starting to move toward the door. But she throws her arm against the wall, blocking me in.
“Mona, let me help you. Please,” Bee says.
“You can’t even look me in the eye, can you? You were always so jealous of me.”
“Momma, you’re causing a scene,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To make it seem like I’m the bad guy? I gave you everything. I gave you a place to live and provided for you and all for you to do what? Seduce the men I brought home? I should’ve kicked you out sooner. Let you fend for yourself. You’ve grown up to be an ungrateful, hateful bitch.”
“That’senough!” I shout, feeling my hands curled into fists, shaking. “You don’t have the first clue what my life was like growing up because you were high for most of it.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“It’s not. You know how old I was the first time I had to stick my fingers down your throat because you overdosed? I was eight. Eight years old, helping my strung-out mom vomit, begging her to wake up. So excuse me if we don’t see eye-to-eye on your notion of providing for me.
“And as for yourhusband, he preyed onme.He took me in when you threw me out in the middle of the night. I wasseventeen. And I didn’t know he was yourpimp. You should have never let me move in with a grown man when I was underage. And the fact that you think I was trying to seduce anyone when I was living under your roof? I was achild.”
“You were always more mature than you looked.”
“Because I had to parent my own fucking mother!” My voice carries across the room and I realize it’s gone silent. I’m shaking and Bee threads her fingers through mine, giving my hand a squeeze. My mother glares at me, looking embarrassed and irate. She hiccups.
“You’re never going to change, are you?” I ask, feeling a weight lift as I say the words.
“What are you talking about? I was a damn good mother. I did everything for you.”
“You did whatever wasn’t inconvenient. And I thought those little things you did, because they were so rare, were worth the love I felt for you. But you know what? I’m done.” My voice shakes, and my belly tightens. I rub my hand over the side where I can feel a little arm or leg. I picture a little fist bumping mine. It gives me all the strength I need.
