“No, he’s your husband,” I say.
She opens her mouth, closes it, and pinches the bridge of her nose. She eyes me. “Do you want to tell me something?”
I consider opening up, liberating all the images of Terrance’s behavior from their flimsy cage in my mind, but she would never believe me. She can’t, because to admit the truth would be to admit she made the same mistake she’d made with Dad and endangered her children again for a man unwilling to change.
“Please just let me go back to Tammy’s,” I say, looking into her eyes, trying to make her see that this is what I want, what I need.
She turns away and stands up next to the bed, wiggles to adjust the waist of her jeans. “I’d prefer you stay close to home, with Jaime—”
“And her best friend Ashley.”
“In a family environment, with Christian influences—”
I say, “Don’t forget the guns.”
“Deborah said she’d love to have you.”
“So she can fix me.” I gather my knees to my chest, anchor my back to the wall behind me. “Tammy just wants me to be myself. To be happy.”
Mom straightens her glasses. “I know, I know. Tammy is soo great,” she says, mocking. “Did she bribe you or something?”
“You said you thought we’d get along,” I say and shrug. “You were right.” And Tammy would never let a pervert into her house, or her bed, or her children’s lives.
“Liz,” she says, her voice sinking into her lecture tone. “I know how hard this must be.”
I try to clear the rising ache in my throat. “You don’t,” I say.
“I do,” she says and I think of her and Tammy moving out of their abusive stepmom’s place as teenagers, receiving money as the only form of support from their inattentive father, and I wonder why she’s doing this to me if she knows. “But I also know you need stricter guidelines,” she says.
I almost laugh. “Terrance can’t even keep his pants on.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that,” she says. She takes a breath. “I am still your mother.”
I say, “Not if I could choose.”
I think I see hurt flare in her eyes for a split second before she shoots out her arm and grips my chin with one hand. She squeezes my cheeks with her poorly painted nails.
“You’re not as smart as you think you are, and you are not an adult,” she says and digs her fingers deeper into my face. “I deserve your respect and this back talk stops now.” She releases my chin with a jerk and throws my head back.
I taste blood in my mouth and I have no snappy comeback. She smooths the thighs of her jeans with her palms and exhales. She says, “You will live here, where I know you’re being monitored.”
My shields feel cracked, but I can’t give up yet. “I don’t want to stay here,” I say quietly. In my head I’m mending all my armor, restacking my fortress.
“You don’t have a choice,” Mom says. I test my defenses, my battle weapons: weakened but not useless. I shoot poison-tipped arrows from my eyes at her back. She turns to me, her hand on the knob. “This is for your own good,” she says. Her wrist rotates. I spring.
I throw my journal at her head and when she ducks, eyes reflected shock-wide in her glasses, I leap forward and slam the door shut so she’s trapped with me. I smash my palm against the white door. “You want to know why I don’t respect you?”
Mom spins faster than I thought she could move. She grabs my hand and twists me around, away from the door. “Because you’re a mouthy teenager who needs a good spanking,” she says and shoves me toward the bed.
Her hands feel like clamps and she’s twice my weight but I don’t stop struggling. “Because you’re a selfish bitch in denial!” I’m rammed face-first into the comforter, and I wait for the blow. I remember other spankings with long wooden spoons or plastic hairbrushes, Jaime and I lined up against our beds, butts out and eyes clenched, waiting for the slap sound that comes before the sting, but Deborah opens the door before Mom can whack me.
Deborah says, “What on earth is going on in here?”
“Elizabeth attacked me,” Mom says, loosening her grip. “She’s completely out of control.”
I jump up off the mattress, my hair in my face, my ears ringing. “You’re out of control!” My heartbeat throbs in my temples, blood pulses in my fingertips. I feel like I could breathe fire. I say, “I hate you.”
Mom takes a step toward me but I raise my clenched fists, let the lightning that’s always just below the surface flash in my eyes and she backs off. “What is wrong with you?” she says.
“This is my life.” I don’t blink, don’t take my eyes off hers, the greenish tint we share, our wavy hair, those cheeks worth showing off. I remember when she said she’d die for us.
Mom says, “You need to calm down.”
My fists, still raised to my shoulders, quake in the air. My skin itches over muscles ready to burst. Mom puts her hand to her mouth and her face crumples like a frameless paper lamp. She takes a step back. She whispers, “Just like David.”
I think of my father’s indiscriminate blows, his face vacant, his eyes bright and pupils huge, and I know it’s not the same. But it’s too close. Instead of the punch I want to launch I say through gritted teeth, “Maybe you deserved to get hit then, too.” It feels good for a second, satisfying, like breaking my fingers against her chin. Mom lunges and slaps my cheek.
Deborah gasps. “Elizabeth,” she says. “This is your mother.”
I cradle my face, look away from Mom’s glowing eyes. I wonder if mine look the same, evenly matched arsenals of rage in our round faces. “She’s doing a bang up job, too,” I say, rubbing my jaw.
Mom says, “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Nothing you do anymore is for us,” I say.
“It’s all for you girls,” she says. “I’ve been trying to keep you safe.”
“You unleashed a predator,” I say.
“He never hurt you,” she says, her eyes wide.
I feel the fire in my face again, barbed wire in my blood. I say, “If that’s what you think, then Terrance’s stupidity really has rubbed off on you.”
Jaime and Ashley come into the room in their nightgowns: shiny yellow and skimming the tops of their knees. Ashley says, “Who was screaming?”
Jaime says, “What happened?”
“Girls,” Deborah says. “Why don’t you head back to your room.”
Jaime says, “I’m not leaving Liz.”
Ashley says, “I don’t want to miss the action.”
Deborah says, “Now, both of you.”
I stand taller, still kneading my cheek with my fingers, but proud of Jaime’s strength and glad to be on the same side again. “This is Jaime’s fight, too,” I say. “Mom abandoned both of us.”
Mom presses both hands to her stomach. “I didn’t abandon you.”
“You love Terrance more than us,” Jaime says.
“You girls don’t understand,” Mom says, her eyes shining. “I—”
Winston’s booming voice says, “Excuse me?” and raised voices filter into the guest room from the front of the house. We all look out the door as Winston says, “No,” and another angry male voice responds. Mom’s eyes stretch in their sockets, but then she shakes her head and pats her pocket.
Winston says, “I don’t think—no, wait—” and then I hear a female voice say my name. Tammy?
I sprint past Mom, Deborah, Ashley, and Jaime, around the corner and past the sectional couch and see Tammy walking past the refrigerator. I stop. It’s true, she’s really here. She’s tanner and her hair is lighter and she’s smiling at me, her honey lip balm reflecting the light.
“Hey, kiddo,” she says, and I am in her arms in two seconds.
“You came,” I say.
I hear Mom’s heels click on the kitchen tile, but the sound stops short when she sees me and Tammy hugging. “No one needs you here,” Mom says to Tammy, her eyes narrowed.
“I do,” I say.
Tammy’s cheek muscles twitch. “Liz sounded so scared and lonely on my machine,” Tammy says and squeezes me closer.
“You don’t get to swoop in and be the hero,” Mom says. “Stop trying to take control.”
“But she’s here to save me,” I say.
Mom squints her eyes so much they’re almost closed. “You can’t have everything. Not anymore.”
Tammy sighs. “I just wanted to help.”
Deborah enters the room in her fuzzy socks, followed by Ashley and Jaime. Deborah looks at Mom’s shoulder-width stance, her clenched fists, and then at Tammy. Deborah says, “Um, hello, you must be—”
Mom interrupts her. “You can’t take my daughter just because you don’t have one.”
Tammy’s torso tightens and she glares at Mom. “You don’t want to start this, Linda,” she says through gritted teeth. Her lavender smell is faint but detectable in the deep breath I take before she lets me go, and it makes me feel secure, calms some of the burning in my chest. Until I see Terrance standing ten feet away. Tammy waves a hand in front of her and says to Mom, “Grow up.”
The anger drains from Mom’s features when she notices Terrance behind us. “Babe,” he says, coming toward her. She cringes. “Babe, I needed to see you, and this dude”—Terrance nods at Winston who is walking into the kitchen, scowling—“didn’t want to let me in.”
I stare at Terrance in his cutoff sweat shorts and green racerback tank top, trying not to think of his meaty breath in my ear or his slick fingers on my skin and failing. “What are you doing here?” I say.
“I’m her husband,” Terrance says, his wide nostrils flaring. “I’m a part of this family.”
Deborah rolls her eyes, and for the first time I wonder if she’s not entirely supportive of Mom’s decision. “We don’t really have space for any more guests,” she says.
“Linda,” Winston says. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want this man in my house. Or around my daughter.” He turns to Ashley. “Upstairs, now.”
“But, Dad—”
“Now!” Winston barks like a sergeant and everyone jumps. His pudgy fingers grip Ashley’s petite shoulders and he herds her toward the stairs.
“How come Liz gets to stay?” Ashley says.
Winston says, “You, too, Jaime,” and she looks to me first and then Mom for confirmation, but he is not waiting. Jaime’s big, wet eyes meet mine as she’s propelled past me.
As Winston marches Ashley and Jaime in their tiny nightgowns up the stairs to Ashley’s room, Terrance says, “What’s his problem?”
Mom steps toward the entryway and says, “Why don’t we go outside and talk?” She tips her chin down and widens her eyes at him but he misses the hint.
“What for?” he says and she looks at the floor. His eyebrows shoot up and stay there, dark arches on his face. His jaw flops open as he makes the connection. “Are you ashamed of me?”
Deborah busies herself with adjusting a fake potted plant. Tammy presses her lips together like she’s trying to seal her mouth shut.
“You were supposed to stay at the motel,” Mom says, quietly, barely moving her face.
He says, “You were supposed to come right back.”
I say, “You brought him?”
“For God’s sake,” Tammy says. “Can’t you go anywhere without him?”
Mom swivels her head to Tammy, her hair spinning out around her head. “Just stay out of it,” she says. “This is none of your business.”
Deborah drops a plastic palm frond and takes a hesitant step toward Mom. “Linda—”
“I know,” Mom snaps and Deborah blinks in surprise. Mom softens her voice and says to Terrance, “Let’s just talk outside for a minute.” She lays her hand on his forearm but he brushes her off like she’s a fly.
Terrance says, “So I’m not welcome here?”
I smile at him without showing teeth. “Way to figure it out,” I say. Mom gives me a look that says shut up, but I’m done listening to her. I put my hands on my hips and face them both. “If only you could figure out how to keep your shorts on.”
Terrance points a finger at me and steps forward in his sneakers. “You little bi—”
Mom grabs his arm and pulls. “Enough,” she says, but he pries her fingers open and escapes her grasp.
He says, “You’re damn right it’s enough.” He shakes his head back and forth and glowers at me. “I deserve your respect.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Cold hatred radiates from his eyes, and my heart flutters with panic, but I’m prepared to stand my ground. I say, “You don’t deserve anyone’s respect.”
Terrance jabs his finger in the air at me. “I’m sick of your smug mouth, girl.” He strides forward and in my head I start checking my armor, but Tammy moves toward me, and so does Deborah. I push my shoulder blades together and stand straight. He says, “Maybe you need a good spanking.”
“Watch it,” Tammy says, shooting Mom a sideways look. “You have no right to speak to her that way.”
He sneers. “I’m her father.”
Tammy says, “You’re a project,” and Terrance looks wounded for a second before turning on Mom. “Are you going to let her speak to me like that?” he says.
Tammy’s voice is even, but I can see her long fingers trembling a little at her sides. “Why don’t you just go,” she says. “Can’t you see no one wants you here?”
Winston comes back down the stairs and stands by Deborah, his hands in the pockets of his blue robe. He says, “Yes, we would appreciate if you would leave.” He shifts his feet and his right hand contracts around a weight under the navy terry cloth. “Before things get out of control.”
Terrance scoffs and flexes his muscles under his tank top. “Are you threatening me?” he says, puffing out his pecs and clenching his fists. He looks Winston up and down. “You?” His hyena laugh is shrill and eerie.
Winston lifts his chest and his belly bulges forward, and I think if Terrance knew what was in Winston’s pocket, he might not be so snide. “Fine,” Terrance says. “We’ll get out of here. Who needs you jackasses anyway, right, babe?”
Mom closes her eyes and her shoulders droop. “This is why I didn’t want you to come,” she says, her face wilting. She sighs heavily and opens her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she says to Winston and Deborah.
“You’re not going to stand up for me?” Terrance says to Mom, ripples of shock spreading across his face. “Pastor Ron says you’re supposed to back me up.”
“I do,” Mom says. “I am.” She tries to pull Terrance’s arm again, but the effort is futile. With Terrance’s bulk, he doesn’t budge unless he wants to, and he’s planted his feet on the carpet. “Let’s just go for now, okay?” she says. He crosses his arms over his solid chest.
Winston steps forward, the blue-green veins in his right arm raised and pulsing. “We would like you to go, Terrance,” he says, his voice firm but quieter than usual. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
Mom’s face is red. “Please, babe,” she says and there’s an insistent pleading in her voice. “We can talk back at the motel.”
Terrance whirls to face me. “This is your fault,” he says, hardly parting his crooked teeth.
“Mine?” I say.
“You turned her against me,” Terrance says, raising his fists to waist level. “You’ve been planting lies in her head for months.”
“I never told her anything,” I say and narrow my eyes at him. “Not even the truth.”
Terrance’s eyes bulge at the same time as Mom’s, and her hands clasp over her mouth while Terrance’s nostrils spread. He shakes his head again and bares his teeth like a dog preparing for attack. “Don’t forget who you’re dealing with,” he says, his voice low and harsh.
Tammy’s eyes are wide, too, but they’re full of fire, and she says to Terrance, “If you hurt my niece—”
Terrance says, “I never touched her.”
Deborah’s face is full of concern and she peeks at
Mom before saying, “What truth, Liz?”
My heart feels like it’s going to beat through my rib cage, but I tuck it behind my steel breastplate. It’s now or never. I take a deep breath. “Does Mom know about Kayla?”
Fury smolders in Terrance’s eyes as he looks at me, but this time I’m not alone. It’s not just me in a dark back booth with his mouth near my neck and his muscles blocking me in. This time I have witnesses.
Mom says, “Who’s Kayla?”
“No one,” Terrance says.
“She’s a waitress at the bar he took me to,” I say.
Tammy says, “He took you to a bar?”
I say, “He said Mom wanted to have lunch with me and he picked me up instead.”
Mom is terrified. Her palms cup her cheeks and she digs her fingers into her temples. “No,” she whispers. Her eyes are fixed on some point in space, stretched open so far it seems like they should pop out. Her head wobbles side to side, and she mutters, “No, no, no, no.”
“What else happened, Liz?” Tammy says, and everyone looks at me.
Mom tangles her fingers together in her hair, still staring wide-eyed. “Nononononono.”
But it’s time for her to hear the truth about the man she married. There’s nothing he can hold over me anymore. Jaime is out of his reach. I inhale and say, “He flirts with me. He makes inappropriate jokes and asks about making out with boys and tries to talk to me about sex.” I feel tears building and I close my eyes. “He winks at me. He breathes on me. He hugs me too long and too close and his hands graze my thighs and my boobs and my hair.” I pause in the stunned silence and open my eyes to a sea of distressed faces. I say, “He threatened to do it to Jaime if I told.”
Tears slide down my cheeks and I stand there while everyone processes what I said. Tammy’s eyes are wet and Deborah looks horrified, her hand over her open mouth. Winston doesn’t look at me. Mom doesn’t, either, still shaking her head and repeating no over and over under her breath.
“I didn’t know what to do,” I whisper and lower my head.
“Oh, Liz,” Tammy says and rushes forward to hug me. “I knew this creep wasn’t rehabilitated,” she says. She holds me against her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I relax into her arms and let myself be cradled.
Hand Me Down Page 23
