know what you saw in that guy.” He cuts me off before I get a chance to defend Shea. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a cool guy, he’s a great person … but he’s not someone I want my little sister going out with.”
“I agree, which is why I’m not going out with him. He would’ve never settled to be with me anyway,” I say. It’s the truth, but it sucks to speak the words aloud.
“He’s an idiot, Bee. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Funny thing about that is, when he is finally ready to settle down, he’ll come back and you’ll be gone.”
I stare at him for a long time, processing his words, knowing he’s completely right. What is it about no longer having somebody and seeing them happy without us that makes us want them more? It just shocks me to hear Hendrix say it because that’s pretty much where he’s headed. He’s completely pushing Sarah in that direction and he obviously knows it. Men can be such clueless assholes sometimes.
“You’re one to talk,” I mutter, turning my head away.
“Have you spoken to Mom lately?” he asks, jabbing me harder than I got him.
My teeth clench at the question. I’ve never been one of those people that can’t take what she dishes out, but that one little question is a hell of a sucker punch.
“Nope.”
Hendrix exhales loudly. “Bee, I know she’s a bitch sometimes, but she’s still your mom.”
I swallow, holding back the rude remarks that are dying to spill out of my mouth, and turn my face to look at him. “I know that, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m healthy. I’m not obsessing over my diet or what creams to use on my face or what shampoo makes my hair shinier. I’m not worried about not fitting into size two jeans. I’m finally coming around to accept that my ass is never going to be small enough to fit sample designer clothing, and I’m okay with that. I can’t talk to her because every time I do, she makes me feel like shit. She makes me feel worthless and fat and hideous, and I can’t go back to being the person that believed her.”
By the time I finish my rant, the tears that have been pricking my eyes are flowing freely. My brother is silent as he listens to me, but the sure look on his face has crumbled. He slides over and wraps his arms around me, pulling my face to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my hair.
“It’s fine,” I reply, blinking rapidly to get rid of my tears. I hate that I let myself cry. I hate that I let her affect me this way even when she’s merely mentioned. I used to look back on what my life has been, the choices I’ve made and the losses I’ve dealt with, and blame myself. Now I blame her. Now I hate her. I hate her for being so cruel to me, my father for letting her, my brother for being too busy, God for forsaking me when I felt I needed him most, and myself for being weak and giving into the bullshit I make myself believe about it all.
“We’re home,” Hendrix murmurs when the car pulls up to his luxurious building.
Is this home? I want to ask him. I’ve never had a concrete meaning for the word. I’ve never had a place that I truly considered home because I’ve always felt like a burden in all of my parents’ homes. When we get upstairs and I put my purse down, I take a moment to assess his place. I’ve been here countless times, but it’s never struck me as a homey place. Looking around I see everything a home should have: furniture, artwork, a kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, but there’s something missing, specifically in this one. He doesn’t have Melody or Sarah here to greet him when he gets in from a long day at work. He comes home to this humongous space, kicks off his shoes and hangs out by himself most nights. I just don’t understand it. I walk around, picking up the picture frames he has laid out on his side table and hold one with an outline of a heart. The picture is of Melody’s first birthday. Sarah’s carrying Melody on
“I agree, which is why I’m not going out with him. He would’ve never settled to be with me anyway,” I say. It’s the truth, but it sucks to speak the words aloud.
“He’s an idiot, Bee. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Funny thing about that is, when he is finally ready to settle down, he’ll come back and you’ll be gone.”
I stare at him for a long time, processing his words, knowing he’s completely right. What is it about no longer having somebody and seeing them happy without us that makes us want them more? It just shocks me to hear Hendrix say it because that’s pretty much where he’s headed. He’s completely pushing Sarah in that direction and he obviously knows it. Men can be such clueless assholes sometimes.
“You’re one to talk,” I mutter, turning my head away.
“Have you spoken to Mom lately?” he asks, jabbing me harder than I got him.
My teeth clench at the question. I’ve never been one of those people that can’t take what she dishes out, but that one little question is a hell of a sucker punch.
“Nope.”
Hendrix exhales loudly. “Bee, I know she’s a bitch sometimes, but she’s still your mom.”
I swallow, holding back the rude remarks that are dying to spill out of my mouth, and turn my face to look at him. “I know that, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m healthy. I’m not obsessing over my diet or what creams to use on my face or what shampoo makes my hair shinier. I’m not worried about not fitting into size two jeans. I’m finally coming around to accept that my ass is never going to be small enough to fit sample designer clothing, and I’m okay with that. I can’t talk to her because every time I do, she makes me feel like shit. She makes me feel worthless and fat and hideous, and I can’t go back to being the person that believed her.”
By the time I finish my rant, the tears that have been pricking my eyes are flowing freely. My brother is silent as he listens to me, but the sure look on his face has crumbled. He slides over and wraps his arms around me, pulling my face to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my hair.
“It’s fine,” I reply, blinking rapidly to get rid of my tears. I hate that I let myself cry. I hate that I let her affect me this way even when she’s merely mentioned. I used to look back on what my life has been, the choices I’ve made and the losses I’ve dealt with, and blame myself. Now I blame her. Now I hate her. I hate her for being so cruel to me, my father for letting her, my brother for being too busy, God for forsaking me when I felt I needed him most, and myself for being weak and giving into the bullshit I make myself believe about it all.
“We’re home,” Hendrix murmurs when the car pulls up to his luxurious building.
Is this home? I want to ask him. I’ve never had a concrete meaning for the word. I’ve never had a place that I truly considered home because I’ve always felt like a burden in all of my parents’ homes. When we get upstairs and I put my purse down, I take a moment to assess his place. I’ve been here countless times, but it’s never struck me as a homey place. Looking around I see everything a home should have: furniture, artwork, a kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, but there’s something missing, specifically in this one. He doesn’t have Melody or Sarah here to greet him when he gets in from a long day at work. He comes home to this humongous space, kicks off his shoes and hangs out by himself most nights. I just don’t understand it. I walk around, picking up the picture frames he has laid out on his side table and hold one with an outline of a heart. The picture is of Melody’s first birthday. Sarah’s carrying Melody on
Similar Books
For Her Eyes Only
Shannon Curtis
Island Beneath the Sea (2010)
Isabel Allende
Such Good Girls
R. D. Rosen
Star Force: Nexus (SF57)
Aer-ki Jyr
Own the Night
Debbi Rawlins
The Twelfth Child
Bette Lee Crosby
Riding Rockets
Mike Mullane
Thousandth Night
Alastair Reynolds
Kill or Be Kilt
Victoria Roberts