Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Krisney
Six months ago
My mother was on her phone, focused solely on what she was doing, and not paying attention to me in the slightest as I opened my mouth to tell them the news.
“We’re going to Mike’s!” my mother suddenly declared.
I grimaced. I hated Mike’s…and come to think of it, so did my mother.
But I didn’t question her. I knew how she was. Knew how she would act to get her way anyway, so why bother?
There’d been one time when I’d finally had enough of a certain high-class restaurant, that I’d decided it’d be best to tell my mother that I hated everything about that restaurant. The fish. The steak. The sweet tea that was the worst sweet tea in the state of Texas.
She’d listened to me tell her how I hated it—I’d been fourteen at the time—and then had proceeded to go to that restaurant for the next week. Every single day. Sometimes twice a day.
I’d gotten the point pretty quickly after that. My mom flat out didn’t give a flying fuck. She certainly didn’t care when I refused to eat the dinner, and I learned the hard way that she’d let me starve.
When I’d refused to eat the first meal, she’d then told me that I wouldn’t eat unless it was what she provided for me. Which began four long days of hunger hell that resulted in me eating every single piece of food off my plate when it was offered, and never again complaining after I learned that she wouldn’t budge.
Instead of opening that particular can of worms, I dropped the bomb I’d been holding onto for forever. Well, forever being about a week, anyway.
I should’ve known this wasn’t going to go over well. Should’ve planned for it to blow up in my face.
I guess in a way I had though, because otherwise I’d have told them a lot sooner than the day before I was set to leave.
“Mom,” I swallowed thickly. “Dad, I have something to tell you.”
Dad looked at me, his face a worried line of concern.
My mother, on the other hand, started to groan.
“We don’t care, honey,” my mother said, automatically assuming that I was trying to get out of the next social function that she demanded I attend while visiting home. “You don’t get an excuse not to come on Friday night. You don’t have to return to the base for another two weeks.”
I licked my dry lips.
“Yeah, about that…I’ve been stationed in Germany. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
My mother’s head turned, her eyes no longer on the road, and stared at me like I’d just summoned a demon instead of telling her that I was moving to Germany.
“You what?”
I nodded quickly. “Mom, pay attention to the road.”
My mother turned back to the road, but I knew I had every single bit of her attention. She might as well not have been looking at the road at all.
“Darling, be a dear and tell our daughter that she needs to talk to her boss and tell him that she can’t go…”
I stopped her before she could continue.
“Mother,” I pinched the bridge of my nose with barely concealed impatience. “You don’t get a choice in where the Army sends me. And frankly, it’s quite comical that you would think so.”
My mother’s beady eyes narrowed on me. “I can make a few calls.”
And I knew she would.
But I’d prepared for this.
“I’m sorry, but it’s done. Besides, I want to go.”
She didn’t say anything as she found a place to park, right next to a motorcycle that looked somewhat familiar.
But it took me a while to realize the relevance of seeing that motorcycle because she was busy shooting me death glares as she walked around the hood of the car.
“It’ll be okay, honey,” my father said.
I smiled, but he saw the wobble just as well as I felt it.
We both knew my mother.
She wouldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop trying to run my life. And she would never let me forget that I disappointed her.
She would try every single trick in the book short of hurting me to get me to stay here, but this time, she wouldn’t be successful.
No way, no how.
I was tired of being forced to do her bidding.
I was a grown-ass woman.
Thirty years old, for God’s sake.
I should be able to make my own decisions without worrying about repercussions from my own mother.
“Mother, don’t.”
She had her phone out, and was typing furiously as she made her way to the front door, not once stopping to address me or the elephant in the room.
I swallowed a groan and followed behind her.
“Mother.” I tried to get her attention once again.
She sneered at me over her shoulder as she walked into the restaurant.
I followed behind her, unsurprised when the woman at the hostess station seated us immediately.