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My voice is bolder than I feel when I admit, “Then, yes. I think I’d like that very much.”
Zia Stella and I spend an hour on the porch talking through everything, and I tell her what happened Monday night with Brandon, about deciding to go back to school against Principal Anderson’s suggestion, about Officer Liu harassing us, and about Lily.
She’s shocked by all of it and promises to see what she can do about Officer Liu. I feel better after telling her, like I’m able to take a full breath of air for the first time in weeks, and the pressure pounding on my temples that’s seemed like a constant background pain finally lessens.
Afterward, I pack my things and thank Natalia for letting me stay here. It’s emotional for me, leaving the first house I really felt at home in, but I know it’s going to be even better at Zia Stella’s, and I’ll always be welcome to visit. Jackson even hugs me and, like the pain in the ass he is, loudly fake cries, “I’m going to miss pretending I didn’t hear you and Jason fooling around at night in your room!”
That earns him a thump in the back of the head, along with a “Shut up, Jackson!” from his brother.
Now, standing in a room in Zia Stella’s house with the biggest windows, which are already cracked open for me, a room she promised I can decorate any way I want, a feeling of contentment settles over me. It lasts while I unpack and right up until I turn my phone on for the first time all week. It happens to ring in my hand, and the caller ID mocks me. It’s like she knew I was happy and needed to remedy that immediately.
I contemplate ignoring it, but this conversation has to happen eventually.
Answering, I put it on Speaker so I can continue sorting through my things.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Siena, darling! You finally answered; I’ve been trying all week!”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy . . .” I trail off, but I don’t think she hears me because she bulldozes on.
“You’re all over the internet! Everyone is talking about you and Stan! I’ve been getting harassed to talk about it from everyone. You’re famous, or at least famous right now. We need to get a move on and capitalize on these fifteen minutes of fame before it all blows over and people are talking about the next big thing. We need to get started with Lincoln ASAP! He’s seen the picture too, and now with what everyone is saying, it’s gotten his director’s brain wheel spinning. It’s going to be amazing, and we’re going to bestars!”
Unable to take it anymore, I exclaim, “I’m not doing the documentary! I’m not letting you use me, Mom.”
Florence feigns indignation. “Use you? You’re my daughter, I’d never do that! This is for both of us; it’s for your future.”
She is so full of it, and the more I realize it, the more it hurts. “Don’t pretend like you care about me or my future.”
“I’m not pretending; of course I care about you!”
Keeping my voice steady, I let go of some of the pent-up anger I’ve been holding on to. “No, you don’t.
If you did, you would’ve taken a second to ask me what Iactuallywant for my future, how I feel about being plastered all over the internet and having to read what everyone is saying about me. If youcaredabout me, you wouldn’t even entertain the idea of doing this documentary, you’d know it was an awful idea. And if youreallycared about me, you never would’ve pawned us off on Aunt Julie and Dario, and you wouldn’t be coming back into my life now just because you can get something out of it.”
“That’s—that’s not what’s happening!” she sputters, probably in complete disbelief. She never expected me to call her out like that, butdamndoes it feel good, and I’m only just getting started.
“You aresoselfish, Mom. You know nothing about me or Gia, who wanted to connect with you even though she knew she’d only get hurt. And what did you do when she called you begging for help? You hurt her! You only ever think about yourself.”
There’s offended sniffling on the other line, but it’s not crying even though the haughty tone she uses cracks.
“Some people just weren’tmeantto be mothers, Siena. I tried, I really did, but every time I thought about having to go home to you girls, I felt tied down, like you were holding me back, even though you were just kids.”
Now my own eyes are tearing, and I angrily wipe them away. She doesn’t deserve my tears, doesn’t get to make me feel bad for existing.
Like she’s trying to justify herself, she continues,
“I never wanted kids in the first place, so I did what I thought was best for you girls.”
Listening to her is only making me feel worse, and I am choosing to be happy. “No, you did what you thought was best foryou, like you always do.”
She must sense she’s losing me; the Hollywood voice is back. “Siena, darling—”
“I’m not doing your documentary. I want nothing to do with you.”
“But can’t you think about it some more—”
“Goodbye, Mom. Unless you decide to make an effort and actually take an interest in me and Gia, actually care about us, don’t ever contact either of us again.”
