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She knew exactly what I’d just said to her. I found the strength to meet her eyes.
“I’m not a kid, Mum. Don’t pretend I am. I know who I am, and I know what I’m doing, and if you want to accept it and listen tomefor once and not fucking Trisha then that’s great. I’ll love it, but if you don’t, then you don’t. Your choice.”
Her eyes were still so hurt.
“My choice about what? You’re going to choose a sicko criminal over me, are you?!”
That was it. The red hot poker in the wound. I got up from my seat, my own tears springing up as my finger jabbed in her direction.
“POT FUCKING KETTLE! You’ve been choosing a sicko criminal over me for YEARS! You’ve been choosing sicko criminals over me since I really was a little kid!”
It was too much. The hurt overflowed. I didn’t want to be there.
I walked away, storming over to my bedroom, and I pulled out the big old suitcase from under my bed, tossing my stuff in there, on a fucking mission.
Mum appeared in the doorway with wide eyes.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?”
“You’re going up there? To him?”
“YES! To Julian. Think he’s a sicko all you like, I don’t care. It’s not as if you ever care what I think in return.”
“You’re being crazy! Stop it. You’re out of your fucking head.”
“No, I’m not.” I sounded so resolute because I was. I was still throwing things in my case, even a stash of shitty costume jewellery from my bedside drawer. “I’m probablyinmy head for the first time in my life.”
“No. You’re not! Listen to me! I’m your mum!”
Damnit. I didn’t want any more arguing. I didn’t want to have to bluster out explanations, or bullshit excuses that didn’t need to be made. It wouldn’t make any difference. We were done here. The only regret I had was that I wished it had been me who’d broken the news before Trisha started spouting shit, but that was Trisha all over. One look at Mum’s face as she stood in my doorway put that thought to bed, though. She wouldn’t listen to me in a million years. She’d probably call Trisha up the second I was out of there, and they could bitch together over a bottle of wine while Mum cried. Me and Julian could both be the bad guys to their self-righteousness.
I zipped my case up, full. The rest of my stuff would have to wait for another day. I lugged the bulky suitcase from the bed with my teeth gritted, barging right past her on the way to the front door. But no. Not yet. I had something to give her first.
I grabbed my keys from my pocket and threw them over to land at her feet. I wouldn’t be needing them anymore.
Mum knew that I was serious then. I had more strength than I’d ever had in my life. She picked up the keys and stared at them in her hand, horrified.
“You do know he’s taking advantage of you, right?” She tried again. “It’s so obvious. He’s an asshole! A sick asshole! I’m trying to protect you! I’m trying!”
Yeah. As if.
Maybe in her deluded version of the world and what was going down here, she was trying, but in mine she was talking shit. I couldn’t take it anymore.
The front door was open. The case was in my hand, and I was almost out of there. Almost. The tears were springing, and my heart was pumping, and the rage was swirling, and I wanted to be upstairs with Julian. I wanted to be out of that place. But I waited, just a moment. I shot Mum one more glance with tears in my eyes. Time for the final pieces of truth now.
“Julian wasn’t an asshole when he pulled Scottie off you to save your life. And he wasn’t an asshole when he saved me from the piece of shit, too.” My eyes must have been so cold. “Enjoy your time with Trisha. I’ll be upstairs with the man who saved me from the true sicko around here. I hope Scottie burns in hell.”
I stepped forward. I was ready.
“Wait, what?” she asked. “What’s this got to do with Scottie?”
The case was in my hand. My feet were ready, but they wouldn’t move.
“Scottie would have pulled himself together,” she said, “We argue. Just like any other couple. It’s me as well as him. Yeah, Julian helped me, which was nice, but Scottie was trying to do better, and he would have done. He’s doing great since he’s been in Scotland. He means well. There are two sides to every story, Rosie.”
It was too much. I couldn’t hold back any longer.
