dependent on other people just to live.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from pointing out Mom had a successful job as an accountant in a high-stakes firm until she got pregnant with me and Dad forced her to quit. He didn’t let her go back to work the entire time I was growing up - how did he expect her to make enough money to take care of herself? He forbade it. Now that they’re divorced and he has to pay her settlements, he’s angry? It’s official - my dad is such a child.
“I’ll be fine, Dad.” I insist. He ‘harumphs’.
“Alright. Just think about it for now. It’d be a big relief off my shoulders.”
God forbid he help his kid out with college. God forbids a lot of things, according to his new wife, Loretta. She’s the old-school Christian type - with bleach-blonde hair and a pair of bright blue eyes, she once was probably really pretty. But age and hate have soured her - her smile is bitter on the edges every time she sees me, and this time is no exception. I walk into the kitchen of their two-story, newly-renovated house, and she turns and smiles that same bitter smile.
“Eve! How lovely to see you.”
She swoops over in an apron and hugs me tight - so tight I think she wants my head to pop off.
“Hi, Loretta,” I force out. She pulls away and taps the wooden spoon she’s been holding on my nose.
“Oh my goodness, look at that tawdry eyeliner of yours. You’re growing up so fast, young lady.”
“I’m nineteen,” I say. “Surprise - I’m a legal adult.”
Even her laugh is stale, like she’s rehearsed it. “So you are. Do me a favor and wash it off before you come down to dinner, will you? We all must be pure when we receive the nourishment of our Lord.”
I knit my lips shut. Loretta smiles wider.
“I’m making pot roast. Do you like pot roast?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Dad comes in and they kiss, and I make a break for the stairs before I can vomit all over the clean floor. My room is the guest room - the bed and curtains the same rose-pattern and smelling like cloying, too-sweet febreeze. A cross hangs on the wall, and a bible sits in the bedside table. There’s no TV - that’s downstairs. Thankfully, I always bring my favorite books. I learned not to bring Harry Potter the first time I came over in Freshmen year - I came home from the zoo with Dad to find Loretta had thrown them away, calling them the work of the devil. All the books I bring now I keep in an airtight, lockable aluminum box so she can’t snoop inside.
At dinner, the conversation is boring and forced - Loretta asking if I like school, if there’s a prayer group I could join.
“You look like you’ve put on a few pounds,” She smiles over a forkful of mashed potatoes. “What are you are eating at that school?”
“What I weigh doesn’t concern you,” I say instantly.
“Eve!” Dad thumps his fist on the table. “Respect your stepmother right now, young lady.”
“She’s insinuating I’m fat, Dad.”
“She’s worried about your health!” His neck gets red like it always does when he’s about to explode. “Be polite to the people who are worried about you and stop being so damn prickly!”
I swallow, but my throat is dry and acidic. Loretta’s smile is barely smug enough for Dad to notice, but I do. I always do. And she always, always, gets away with making me feel stupid, or not good enough.
“It’s alright, Clarence,” She reaches out to Dad’s hand and covers it with her own. “She’s just mistaken my tone, is all. A woman’s weight is a sensitive subject for every girl.”
There’s a tense silence as Dad glares at me and Loretta eats like a self-satisfied cat. My stomach is roiling, like I’m about to throw up. I can’t even touch my food without thinking she’ll judge me for eating here, too. But that was her plan all along - make me uncomfortable.
“You know, Clarence,” Loretta starts. “I’ve been thinking about that trip to New York we were talking about. You
I bite my tongue to keep myself from pointing out Mom had a successful job as an accountant in a high-stakes firm until she got pregnant with me and Dad forced her to quit. He didn’t let her go back to work the entire time I was growing up - how did he expect her to make enough money to take care of herself? He forbade it. Now that they’re divorced and he has to pay her settlements, he’s angry? It’s official - my dad is such a child.
“I’ll be fine, Dad.” I insist. He ‘harumphs’.
“Alright. Just think about it for now. It’d be a big relief off my shoulders.”
God forbid he help his kid out with college. God forbids a lot of things, according to his new wife, Loretta. She’s the old-school Christian type - with bleach-blonde hair and a pair of bright blue eyes, she once was probably really pretty. But age and hate have soured her - her smile is bitter on the edges every time she sees me, and this time is no exception. I walk into the kitchen of their two-story, newly-renovated house, and she turns and smiles that same bitter smile.
“Eve! How lovely to see you.”
She swoops over in an apron and hugs me tight - so tight I think she wants my head to pop off.
“Hi, Loretta,” I force out. She pulls away and taps the wooden spoon she’s been holding on my nose.
“Oh my goodness, look at that tawdry eyeliner of yours. You’re growing up so fast, young lady.”
“I’m nineteen,” I say. “Surprise - I’m a legal adult.”
Even her laugh is stale, like she’s rehearsed it. “So you are. Do me a favor and wash it off before you come down to dinner, will you? We all must be pure when we receive the nourishment of our Lord.”
I knit my lips shut. Loretta smiles wider.
“I’m making pot roast. Do you like pot roast?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Dad comes in and they kiss, and I make a break for the stairs before I can vomit all over the clean floor. My room is the guest room - the bed and curtains the same rose-pattern and smelling like cloying, too-sweet febreeze. A cross hangs on the wall, and a bible sits in the bedside table. There’s no TV - that’s downstairs. Thankfully, I always bring my favorite books. I learned not to bring Harry Potter the first time I came over in Freshmen year - I came home from the zoo with Dad to find Loretta had thrown them away, calling them the work of the devil. All the books I bring now I keep in an airtight, lockable aluminum box so she can’t snoop inside.
At dinner, the conversation is boring and forced - Loretta asking if I like school, if there’s a prayer group I could join.
“You look like you’ve put on a few pounds,” She smiles over a forkful of mashed potatoes. “What are you are eating at that school?”
“What I weigh doesn’t concern you,” I say instantly.
“Eve!” Dad thumps his fist on the table. “Respect your stepmother right now, young lady.”
“She’s insinuating I’m fat, Dad.”
“She’s worried about your health!” His neck gets red like it always does when he’s about to explode. “Be polite to the people who are worried about you and stop being so damn prickly!”
I swallow, but my throat is dry and acidic. Loretta’s smile is barely smug enough for Dad to notice, but I do. I always do. And she always, always, gets away with making me feel stupid, or not good enough.
“It’s alright, Clarence,” She reaches out to Dad’s hand and covers it with her own. “She’s just mistaken my tone, is all. A woman’s weight is a sensitive subject for every girl.”
There’s a tense silence as Dad glares at me and Loretta eats like a self-satisfied cat. My stomach is roiling, like I’m about to throw up. I can’t even touch my food without thinking she’ll judge me for eating here, too. But that was her plan all along - make me uncomfortable.
“You know, Clarence,” Loretta starts. “I’ve been thinking about that trip to New York we were talking about. You
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