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I was always the one she paid the least attention to—her problem child. But I suppose all of us are her problem children, except maybe Jet.
All she ever wanted was my dad. We keep him away from her for her own good, but it doesn’t stop her resenting us for it. It doesn’t stop this town from judging us for it. A blip of embarrassment wiggles through my gut at the looks she gets at church.
Maybe that’s why I stopped going.
Still, she doesn’t love anything as much as she loves God. When I started dating Jess, we took Mom to church a few times, completely changing her opinion of me. Jess was my saviour in her mind, and a wave of acidic resentment comes over me. Because Jess dumped me, and now I’m here, forced to face the wrath of my mother.
Most people hate my dad because he deserves it, but he’s explosive and violent. But neglect, silence, and being torn to shreds with a single dead-eyed look cuts just as bad. Only in ways you can’t see. Raston sees my mom as a victim. Frail and lacking any control over her husband, her children, her life. It’s only us that sees the coldness and distance.
Jess bridged that for her and I.
I’m dreading bursting this newfound relationship.
She meets my gaze for a moment. “Will you and Jess be joining me at church this week?”
I grip the doorframe and stretch my shoulders. A barrier forms between my lips, trapping my words, and I feel thrown. It’s not often she looks directly at me, and when she does, I get this same sick feeling in my stomach. There’s a deep, dark lake of shame that lives in me, and Mom is at the centre of it.
“Go, darling,” Mom hissed as I stood rooted to the ground, vines of fear tangling around my ankles. Jason grabbed a spoon from the counter, large and wooden, spaghetti sauce dripping from it like blood. I knew he was coming for me.
She straightened up to face Jason, her features smooth and calm—not like they were when they were on me. She put herself between us when it was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be the one he was after.
My body was suspended in midair as my brother lifted me from the ground, and Jason grabbed Mom by the throat, slamming her to the wall.
Like a soul leaving a body the moment it dies, I see the light disappear from her eyes. Her features go slack, and in an instant, she’s gone.
I watched her dissociate like that, over and over—completely detach her mind from her body to protect herself from Jason. At the time, I had no idea that’s what it was; I was too young to know. But that never stopped it from haunting me.
“Darling?” Mom says, and I heave a breath as I snap out of it. “Is there something wrong?”
My body jolts at the question because it’s so unexpected. Digging through my memories, I don’t remember the last time she asked me something like that.
“Um, yeah.” The words tumble out on top of each other. “So, Jess broke up with me because I got a girl pregnant. She showed up back in town and is living in the basement now.”
Her kind smile sinks into a frown, taking all my confidence with it. “She broke up with you?”
I nod, and the small sigh that sneaks from her lungs has the force of a wrecking ball. The clear disappointment in her features makes me squirm in the doorway, itching to hide away in my room. The urge to lock the door and never come out is strong.
“The Lord has a plan for you.” She sets her brush down.
Irritation bubbles in my gut. “Yeah,” I say, robotic and practiced. Of course, he does. This is her fucking answer to everything, but I can tell her personal opinion is I messed it up with Jess, the only girl she’s ever shown any genuine interest in.
“You pay the price of veering from His love.” She stands up and goes to the closet, no longer looking at me.
My heart thunders with all the things I want to say about the Lord’s plan but will never have the guts to. “’Kay, Ma.” I slap the doorframe and step into the hall.
“Ezekiel,” she says, frowning at my attitude. “I wasn’t finished.”
I remember this tone from church when I was a kid. The hazy, distant memories of her personality have wilted over the years. “This might be the plan he has for you. Keep your heart pointed toward heaven, son, and He will guide you.”
“The Lord has a plan for you, son. It’s my job to keep your heart pointed toward heaven,” Jason hissed. Xan’s shirt was balled in his fist as he shook his own kid in the middle of downtown. Xan just grinned, puffed his chest and let his smartass comments fly.
Xan talked back. Jet fought back. All I ever did was stand there, frozen, until one of them took it for me.
The force of the memory shocks me, and I clench my jaw tight. Like a radio station going out of range, my thoughts glitch. Snippets of what I’ve seen keep flashing behind my eyes.
Nothing reminds me of Jason more than the wordson. A word he always used with my brothers and sometimes with me.
Tabby and I may not have experienced our father firsthand, but we saw everything. We heard everything. We felt everything, even if it wasn’t happening to us. Kids aren’t fucking stupid. Hiding the bullshit behind closed doors doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.
