Chapter 2
The day unfolded like a slow-motion car crash.
My mother eventually knocked on my bedroom door.
Her voice was clipped,
devoid of the maternal warmth I had grown up with.
"Nellie. Open the door.
We need to talk."
I didn't open it immediately.
I moved slowly,
carefully smoothing the bedsheets.
I wanted her to see that I was calm.
I wanted her to see that I was no longer the child she could manipulate.
When I finally turned the lock,
she pushed the door open before I could even take a step back.
She looked tired,
her skin sallow in the morning light.
She didn't look at Graham.
She looked at me,
her gaze hard and demanding.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"Austin is outside.
He’s cold, and he’s humiliated.
Open the door and let him in."
I didn't move.
I stood in front of the doorway like a sentry.
"He hit Graham, Mom," I said,
my voice steady,
surprising even me.
"He bruised him.
He called him a brat.
I am not letting him back into this house."
She sighed,
a sound of pure exasperation.
"It was a mistake.
He was stressed.
He’s a man, Nellie, he has temperaments.
You don't understand the pressures he's under."
"Pressures?" I echoed,
the word tasting like ash.
"Are you listening to yourself?
He hit a defenseless eight-year-old child!
He’s a grown man who couldn't handle a bit of slime on a shirt.
If you open that door,
I am taking Graham and leaving."
She laughed,
a harsh, incredulous sound.
"With what money?
You think you can survive on your own?
You're just a kid.
You think you're so smart because you skipped a grade,
but you know nothing about the real world."
I felt a surge of cold fury.
"I know enough to know that a mother protects her children," I said.
"I've been the one protecting Graham for years.
I've been the one cleaning this house,
paying the bills,
making sure he has a safe space.
If you can't see the monster you brought into our lives,
then I have no choice."
She grabbed my arm,
her grip uncharacteristically tight.
"You will not ruin this for me, Nellie.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone?
How hard it is to feel less alone?"
I looked at her hand on my arm,
then back at her eyes.
They were glazed with a selfish, desperate need
that had nothing to do with us.
"You are not alone, Mom," I whispered.
"You have us.
But you're about to lose us both."
She let go as if my skin burned her.
"Fine," she hissed.
"Go ahead.
But don't come crawling back when you realize that the world is much colder than I am."
She turned and marched toward the front door.
I watched her go,
my heart heavy with the finality of the moment.
I walked back to the bed.
Graham was awake now,
staring at me with wide, fearful eyes.
"Are we going, Nellie?" he asked.
I forced a smile,
though my hands were trembling.
"Yes, Graham.
May you like
We're going to be okay.
I promise."
