Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“Hey, Nez. You know why I limit gaming during the week. It’s too much of a distraction, and your grades suffer.”
“Like gymnastics doesn’t distract Lottie?” She lifts her brows and gives me a so there look.
“All right. I’ll give you that.” I head back into the dining room to get the next round of baskets, addressing her over my shoulder. “It definitely takes a lot of her time, but that’s an extracurricular activity and a discipline. If she doesn’t keep her grades up, she knows she loses it. Plus gymnastics could very well be Lottie’s ticket to a college scholarship.”
“Gaming requires discipline.” Inez hefts two more baskets and walks out to the car. “I mean a different kind, but there’s hand-eye coordination.”
“Okay.” I grab two more baskets and head to the garage. “That’s a stretch.”
“There are professional gamers making millions, Mom. Who needs college if that happens?”
I stop in the middle of the garage, my horror probably scrawled all over my face. “Did you say, ‘Who needs college?’”
“I mean, you went to an Ivy League school, and a lot of good that did you. You got married, had kids, and stayed home. You could have skipped college with the same outcome. The major thing you accomplished at Cornell was meeting Dad.”
I let those thinly veiled barbs sink into my flesh. How much of that insult is the insensitive oblivion that usually accompanies adolescence, and how much is her deliberately provoking and demeaning me? Motherhood truly is a thankless endeavor sometimes. We sacrifice everything for these people who never really understand what we’ve done for them.
“So my greatest accomplishment was marrying your father?” I ask, smoothing the irritation from my voice, unwilling to give her the satisfaction.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she says half-heartedly.
“But you did, Inez.” I slam the trunk and walk to the driver’s side, angling a look at her. “We both know you did.”
I climb in and start the car, waiting for her to take the passenger seat. After a few moments, she does and puts her earbuds in right away. I jerk the left one from her ear.
“No, ma’am.” I toss it into her lap. “You just said something I believe was aimed to hurt me, to make me feel less. When have I ever said something that was designed to hurt you? Specifically to make you feel smaller?”
I pull out of the garage and let the silence stew, not offering relief but waiting for her to speak.
“Never,” she finally says.
“Had to think about it? Had to review every conversation to look for a time when I deliberately hurt you with my words the way you just did me?”
“No, I… I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You did mean to hurt me, Inez. I just want to know why.”
“I guess I lash out sometimes and I don’t think before I say stuff.” Eyes cast down to her lap, she fiddles with her seat belt. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to talk to someone about it?” I spare a brief glance from the road to her profile and gentle my tone.
“You mean more therapy?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “No thanks.”
“Those sessions were for us as a family, Nez, but if you need—”
“Mom, please.” She grips her head in her hands and blows out a quick breath. “Can we just drop it?”
“Look, I know this hasn’t been easy, and our whole lives have changed, but—”
“You act like he doesn’t exist,” she says abruptly.
I know exactly who she means, but I ask anyway. “Who?”
“See?” She tilts her head back into the headrest, eyes fixed up. “Dad. You act like he’s just gone, instead of in prison.”
“Inez, he is just gone for now. He has another year on his sentence.”
“And when he gets out?” She twists in the passenger seat to watch my profile. “How’s it gonna be then?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Inez. He’s your father, but he’s not my husband. We’re divorced. When he gets out, there will be space in your life for him if you want that. I won’t keep you from him, but there is no place in my life for him. That’s over.”
“What if I want to see him before he gets out?”
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. That’s not something Edward has wanted. The one time he called the house after the sentencing, it was to lambast me for turning over evidence and to say he didn’t want the girls seeing him in prison. He hasn’t called, and they haven’t asked for him. I knew at some point that would change.
“Let’s talk about it later, Nez,” I say softly.
She watches me for a long moment before facing forward and looking out the passenger window. The wall I’ve sensed her raising between us is only growing higher. The last nine months have been hell in so many ways, but what kept me going was knowing it was for my girls. Now I feel like I’m losing something precious with one of them.