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“At this rate, she absolutely is. And before that, your father and I are going to be stuck with her?—”
I see this spiraling quickly. Every once in a while, Evie gets brave and likes to stand up to our mother, but unlike me, Evie cannot handle the heat of her wrath. She can’t handle the look of disappointment, and it tears her up each time.
“It’s fine, Eve. I’ll go.” I turn to face my mother, pasting on my fakest, perfect daughter smile and nod. “I’d love to go. If you don’t mind, send me over his information, and I can set up times and whatnot.”
My mother gives Evie a,see? Your sister listens to me, look, then me a small, almost-approving smile. My mother never has a full-blown approving smile—just the hint of one, the promise that if you did everything perfectly, maybe somehow, some way, you might get that genuine approval. Something to always strive for.
Silence takes over the table, and the only sound is that of forks and knives on china, of Evie pushing food around and myself dutifully eating, my father keeping his eyes downcast. I think we’ll make it out of this okay, in one piece, before my fucking sister opens her damn mouth.
“Riggins is in town,” she says, a smile in her words that I don’t see because I keep my eyes staring at my plate, pushing things back and forth. But with her words, the already quiet room goes painfully silent, the ominous quiet before an atomic bomb explodes.
“What?” my mother asks, venom in the words. I clear my throat, tipping my chin up, and quickly glance at my twin, who is staring at me, not my mother.
Like she’s trying to gauge my reaction.
“Riggins Greene is in town again,” she repeats
“And how would you know he’s in town?” she asks her jaw tight.
“It’s a small town, Mom. Gossip travels quickly. Word on the street is that the band is on break for a bit while they write their next album.” The knife in my chest twists, and I fight every instinct to let it show on my face. Is that why he’s back in town? Does he need to write?
My mind keeps traveling.
Is that why he’s finally reaching out to me? Is he out of inspiration, out of songs? Does he need my help?
“Did you know about this, Stella?” my mother asks, dragging me into the conversation where I don’t want to be but leaving me with no option but to answer.
I roll my shoulders back, straighten myself, and do my mental check to make sure I fit her expectations. I started this when I came back, making the checklist of what she expected of me and how to be the dutiful daughter.
She told me if I skipped college and instead went on tour with Riggins and the boys, I would regret it.He’s going to chew you up and spit you out, Stella Jane, and then what will you have? Nothing. You’re throwing your life away,she said.
And she was right.
He chewed me up, spit me out, and destroyed me.
And then I had nothing left. I should have listened to her.
Becoming the daughter she wants me to be is my penance for not listening.
When I came back from tour, I was a shell of myself, so hollow on the inside you could hear air howling and twisting within me. So from then on, I listened to everything she told me, going to work at her restaurant, living under her thumb.
I came back with no idea of who I was, who I was without Riggins, without music, and without the band. I had built my entire life since I was five around the daydream of touring the world with him, and in one summer, it all fell apart.
I was a shell of myself, so when I built myself back up, I made sure my armor was bulletproof and that I became everything I needed to win my mother’s approval. If I was nothing anymore, if I was a shell of myself, I might as well fit into the role she wanted for me.
“I did,” I respond simply, removing the ability to read between the lines.
“You better not see him,” she said.
I don’t know why I don’t tell her he's already stopped by my place and that he’s come into the diner for lunch, but I omit it all the same. I’m contemplating the why of that when Evie speaks, exasperated by her words.
“Mom, she’s an adult; she can see whoever she wants.”
“Not if she wants to work at the diner. If she respects herself, if she respects this family, she won’t see him. He’s trash, just like his parents.” Evie shakes her head.
“You used to spend every night in the summer out drinking on the patio with his parents.”
“And then his mother passed away, god rest her soul, and his father became a drunk. And then Riggins followed right in his father’s footsteps.” She turns to me, telling Evie without words she’s done speaking to her, and shifts her venom to me. “I don’t want to see you out with him, Stella.”
