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"Why can't you just apply for a job here?" My mother sneers, pulling her teacup to her Burgundy lips. "And what about Garrett?"
No. Don't let her manipulate you, Hanna. You've decided. I wipe my sweaty palms down my shorts, handing Ellie her pacifier back.
"No, mom. I'm going. I've already accepted the job, and Ellie and I will be fine. Garrett is just a friend. I've told you that a million times."
We don't need you hovering. I think to myself.
She lifts Ellie into her lap, smoothing her dress over her diaper cover, "You'll be better here."
"Daddy," I whine, hoping he will offer some sort of support.
"Madison, Hanna is old enough to make her own decisions. She has been for some time."
Mom rolls her eyes, cooing at Ellie, "You will miss grammy too much, won't you, Ellison?"
Ellie just smiles, her wicked little two-year-old grin, "No."
Dad and I laugh, and mom shoots us a hateful glare.
Ellie wiggles off her grammy's lap, walking over to me.
"Popsicle," She demands.
I stand walking over to the fridge, my mom's voice traveling into the kitchen. She talks like I'm not even here, "Elliott, we have to stop her. What if she runs into that boy? Huh? What if that brother of his starts askin' questions?"
My father scoffs, "I bet Hanna has already thought this through, Honey."
"She's reckless, Elliott. Always has been. Why take Ellison there? So she can get disappointed by a father that won't stick around?"
My dad's voice is stern, the harshest I've ever heard him be with her, "He doesn't even know about Ellison. I don't know what difference it makes? You aren't the one to judge that boy. You don't know what he was dealing with. None of us do, except maybe Hanna."
I open the popsicle handing it to Ellie, watching her walk back into the room. My feet are frozen, knowing my mother will stop talking when I enter, and I want to hear what other hateful things she has to say about me.
"He isn't good for them!" She whisper-shouts, "He's not Elliott, and you know it! He's trash."
My dad is fired up, "I'd hardly say he's trash. He left to better himself. He left to have a career, Madison. He's top of his class at the academy, received multiple awards. He graduates next month. He's doing well for himself, and if you ask me, I think he deserves to know about his daughter. Whether or not he wants to be in her life, that's up to him. He should at least have that choice."
My mother's brow knits together, "How could you say that?"
"In case you've forgotten, I was a lot like this trashy boy that you don't know anything about."
I step into the doorway, watching my father shrug out of her embrace. She doesn't know what to say. It certainly won't be an apology. It never is.
I wonder why my dad is keeping tabs on Jameson, what strings he's pulled for him. If any.
Ellie's popsicle is beginning to melt. She doesn't eat it quick enough, the southern Georgia heat not helping. The red juice drips to the neckline of her dress.
My mother sneers at me, yanking the popsicle from Ellie's hand, "You know you can't give her that in her dress clothes."
I look to my dad, a pleading look that I seem to keep when I'm around her. He nods.
It isn't much, but even just the simple acknowledgment that he understands why I can't stay here is enough.
The next day the rest of our stuff is loaded into the U-Haul, and I look around the empty room, the last box staring at me from the floor. My red and cut-up homecoming shirt folded on top. I stare down at it, wondering if I'm making the right choice.
I lift it out of the box, running my fingers over the raised fabric paint on the back, property of Jay.
I fold it back, remembering the things my dad said yesterday.
