by M. S. Parker
Most of the time, I didn’t like getting involved in arguments. I was just too damn lazy. I especially didn’t like arguing with my mother. She was as manipulative as any politician, and ten times smarter. And, honestly, it just wasn't worth it half the time with her.
But I was done.
The three of them – my mother, Paisley, and Diamond Hedges – had manipulated me, tried to trick me into marriage I didn’t want, and now my mother actually had the nerve to sound pissed off at me?
No. Fucking. Way.
She knocked again, her voice loud through the intercom. “Jal, I said open this door! If you don’t–”
“I’ll be right there!” I bellowed, cutting her off.
Surprisingly, she went silent.
I yanked on my pants and grabbed my shirt from the floor. I was comfortable with nudity, but there was something about my mother that made a man feel like he needed to have certain important parts of his anatomy covered or he might lose them. Striding out of my bedroom and down the hall, I gritted my teeth as I descended the stairs and walked over to the front door.
I told myself to count to ten before opening the door, but it didn’t make my anger lessen.
Jerking the door open, I stared at my mother.
She brushed past me, despite the fact that I was standing in the middle of the doorway. I clenched my jaw. No way in hell would this go the way she probably thought. I rarely confronted her so she likely assumed this would go the same way as any other time I did something she didn’t like. That I'd shrug and give in because it was the easier thing to do.
Like hell.
Slowly, I closed the door, forcing myself not to slam it. When I turned to face her, she had her arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted.
We were clearly cut from the same cloth. My mother, without a doubt, was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. She was fifty-two, but could easily pass for forty. She was still slim, and if there was gray in her long dark blonde hair, I’d never seen it. Her eyes were a sharp emerald green, glinting with an intelligence far beyond what most believed she possessed.
Usually, her face was a cool, composed mask, the sort of flawless expression that could've made her a model despite the fact that she was barely five-seven. Mom didn't do emotions.
But on rare occasions, something set her off. And today, that something was me. Her eyes were narrowed, nostrils flaring.
“Jal, would you care to–”
I pointed at her as I cut her off, “Don’t.”
She sucked in a breath as color flooded her cheeks.
“Don’t you dare look at me like I did something wrong.” Shaking my head, I moved around her to the window and stared down at the busy street hundreds of feet below. “You, Diamond, and Paisley set me up. Do you have any idea how humiliating all of this is? I felt like I was sucker punched in the gut.”
“Jal, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
Slowly, I turned and stared at her. “No. I don’t. I don’t actually like Paisley all that much. Not that you bother to consider that I might have my own feelings about her since you like her. You also didn't bother to think that I might actually fall in love with the baby.” The smile on my face must have looked as ugly as it felt because Mom’s eyes fell away from my face and she shifted her gaze. “A baby that doesn’t even exist.” When she didn’t respond, I added, “You set me up. You lied to me. All of you.”
Again, my mother tried to interrupt. “Jal, darling. I simply wanted–”
“I know what you wanted,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.”
A mix of disgust, fury, and a multitude of other emotions I couldn’t even begin to identify swirled inside me, an insidious mess that just couldn’t wait to spill out.
Unaware of the thoughts running through my head, my mother turned on her heel, her Ferragamos clicking on the floor as she strode over to the couch and sat down. Clearly, my surliness had only briefly slowed her down.
“Jal, I will not have you speaking to me this way. What would your father think?”
“He would be surprised as hell,” I snapped. “But not because of me. I doubt he thought you'd ever do something like this. I know I sure as hell didn't. I don't know why though. It's not like you've ever cared about our thoughts, our feelings. All you've ever cared about is yourself.”
Her nostrils flared, and she pulled her head back as if I’d slapped her.
Oh, sore spot.
Mommy dearest didn't like it when people questioned her motives. It made her look bad.
“I am your mother, and you will not speak to me like that.”
“Newsflash, Mother,” I said, drawing the word out. “I’m an adult now. You don’t get to dictate my wardrobe. You don’t get to discipline my behavior. And you sure as hell don’t get to pick my wife.”
She flinched, and some part of me knew I needed to rein it in, but I had too much of it pent up, and it was all coming out now. I'd let this go on for far too long. Maybe if I'd stood up to her sooner, she never would've thought she could get away with what she did.
“You had no right to do that to me.”
“To you?” She had the audacity to look shocked. “I was trying to help you! You need to settle–”
“Don’t say it!” I pointed at her. “Don’t you dare say it. This isn’t some royal family where you need an heir to pass everything on to. I’m not sixty years-old and doddering along. And if I choose to live the life of a bachelor, that’s my choice. It’s my life!”
“Aren’t you even going to listen to my side?” she demanded. Her own temper was starting to fray.
Nobody stood up to Ginnifer Lindstrom. She was so used to getting her own way, she didn't seem very well-equipped to deal with any type of opposition.
Too fucking bad.
The anger burning in me was hotter than I’d realized and I was only now scraping the top layer.
“Your side.” I rubbed my chin, stubble scraping against my hand. “Tell me something, Mom. What side could you possibly have that makes it all okay for you to lie to me about something like this? Did any of you even think that I might end up wanting the baby? Did any of you care that I was flipping my life upside down and forcing myself to marry a woman I didn’t even like for one reason…that baby? Did it occur to you how I’d feel when I realized all of you – including my mother – had lied to me? What did you think I'd do when I realized I was married to someone I didn't want for a reason that didn't exist?”
She fluttered her hand. “Oh, don’t be absurd. You and Paisley are perfectly suited–”
“No, Mom, you're suited to Paisley. The two of you move in the same social circles. I can’t stand ninety percent of the people the two of you spend your time with. You both think I waste my time and money on lost causes and degenerates looking for a hand-out.” I ran my hand through my hair. “The one bright spot in all of this was a baby. My baby. My child, Mother, that was nothing but a figment of your imagination!”
“Well, go and fuck her and make that damn baby exist if you want it so fucking bad!”
The crude words coming from my mother’s mouth were enough to give me pause. I could count on one hand how many times I’d heard my mother swear, and I was pretty sure I had never heard her drop an F bomb, let alone two of them in a row.
She got up and began to pace, agitation clear in every step. She wasn’t ready to give this up. She wasn’t ready to admit she was wrong. I almost laughed at that. My mother didn't give up on anything. Ever.
“You haven’t heard anything I’ve said, have you?” Or had she heard it…and just didn’t care? “I don’t love Paisley. I don’t even like her. And right now...” I couldn’t even finish. I couldn’t describe how enraged I was. “This entire thing disgusts me. All three of you disgust me.”
She sucked in her breath, her porcelain skin going completely white. “Jal, sweetheart…really.”
“Why do you look so shocked?” I demanded. “When Paisley told me the trut
h…shit, Mom. I think you could have punched me in the face, threatened to disown me, and it would've hurt less. Anything would have been better than what you did. Why can’t you understand that?”
She pressed her lips together, blinking rapidly.
“Do you know one of the things I hated to hear from you or Dad when I was growing up?”
She looked away, twisting her wedding ring around. I got the impression I was finally starting to get through to her.
“When you told me that I’d disappointed you. I would've rather had one of you spank me and get it over with, but that’s not what Lindstroms did.”
Shaking my head, I shoved my hands through my hair again. I'd never been good enough for her. Her expectations were impossible. I’d increased the company’s net worth by ten percent within two years, and now it was at a nearly thirty percent increase. I had men my dad’s age coming to me for financial advice. And it wasn’t enough for her. Being a good student hadn’t done it. Being considered a financial genius wasn’t enough.
I was a social disaster in her eyes, and that ruined all the rest.
“You told me time and again that I’d failed to live up to your standards, that I disappointed you. So I’d try harder. And harder.” I looked back at her. “And you gutted me each time, even though I knew, every time, that I'd failed you before you said a word.”
“Jal, that’s not–”
“I don’t want to hear it.” All of the fight went out of me. I was so tired, the sort of tired that went down to the bones. “And here’s the thing, Mom. Maybe I never lived up to your standards. I always thought that was why you pushed me so hard. You had this standard in your head, and you wanted me to fit it. But I can see now that it had nothing to do with an ideal. You just wanted to control me. That ideal doesn’t even exist. I guess I can’t even say I’m disappointed. I’m just…disillusioned.”
She lifted a hand toward me. “Sweetheart…”
“Don’t.” It came out hard and brittle, and this time, when she flinched, I didn't care. She’d spent too long jerking me around like a puppet on its strings. “You need to leave. And do us both a favor. Stay away for a while. I love you. You're my mother. I know you love me. But I need to…let this settle. If you don’t give me some time to do that, I’ll say something we’ll both regret.”
I didn't look back as I headed up the stairs. Part of me thought it might've been a better idea to kick my mother out, but I had a feeling that would've been pressing my luck. Better she thinks it was her idea.
After a few seconds, I heard the front door close.
One hurdle down...the biggest yet to come.
Chapter Eight
Allie
I needed to buy new shoes. My hamstrings were killing me. Working on my feet all day was a real bitch.
The good news was that today had been completely and utterly miserable, with everyone in such bad moods it kept me from thinking too much about Jal. Now, all I wanted to do was take a long hot bath and go to bed.
But Mom had book club later tonight, and I needed to get dinner together if any of us wanted to eat before the meeting.
When I heard her footsteps on the kitchen floor, I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at her, but I turned back to what I was doing in the hopes that she'd be too busy thinking about book club to talk.
No such luck. As I began to dump the vegetables into a bowl to rinse them off, she joined me.
“How was your date?”
She nudged me out of the way so I could respond, taking over the small task. Trying to buy time, I grabbed my bottle of water and drained half of it.
Finally, knowing I couldn’t avoid it forever, I answered, “It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to work out anyway. I won’t be seeing him again.”
I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud.
While she finished with the vegetables, I got an iron skillet down and oiled it, putting it on medium heat before turning to dig out some garlic from the fridge. The rice was already cooking. Once I had the meat sizzling along with the garlic, I turned to get the vegetables. Mom had already mixed up some soy sauce and orange juice to toss in once the meat and veggies were done.
She was waiting for me to meet her gaze, and now that I had a brief lull, I couldn’t avoid it.
“What happened?”
“I…nothing happened.” With a half-hearted shrug, I forced myself to speak while I signed, “I just saw the light – saw reality. It won’t work. You were right. We’re too different. A guy like him won’t ever be happy with a girl like me.”
Please, I thought desperately. Just take that and let it go.
But I knew she wouldn’t, and I tried to steady myself. I didn’t want to cry over this anymore, and I definitely didn't want to cry in front of my mom. Not about this.
Mom touched my shoulder. When I didn’t look at her, she asked, “What aren’t you telling me, Allie?”
All kinds of things, I thought hysterically. “Nothing, Mama. I’m fine.” The smile I gave her felt hysterical and wild, more than a little sharp around the edges.
Her dark eyes narrowed. “Don't give me that.”
I eased away to get some distance between us. “What do you want me to say?”
I saw the flash of triumph cross her face and knew I'd confirmed for her that something was wrong.
Mom pursed her lips, pulling them slightly to the right as she studied me. “What do I want you to say? How about you tell me the truth? Or if you don’t want to talk, tell me that, but don’t lie to me or say it doesn’t matter when it clearly does.”
The ache inside me grew, expanding until it seemed that I no longer existed. I was just that ache, nothing but pain and sadness. Tilting my head back, I stared at the ceiling to try to keep the tears out of my eyes.
Why was I trying to hide this from her anyway?
She’d been right. She'd warned me about men like my father, men like Jal. And I didn't learn.
Maybe that was part of why I didn’t want to talk about it.
“You were right, Mama.” I signed. “Things between him and Paisley are over, but that doesn’t mean I stand a chance with him.”
I didn’t want to explain about Paisley and the baby that never existed. Her scheming hadn’t surprised me, but it had nothing to do with what was between Jal and me. Or rather what wasn’t.
He wanted me, but that’s all it was.
My mother’s face softened, and she took a step toward me. I held out a hand and shook my head, offering a weak smile. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. You need me here anyway.”
If I’d hoped to end the discussion, I should have tried something else.
“Don’t,” she told me, signing the single word slowly and deliberately.
When I didn’t respond, she gave me that look mothers must learn instinctively when they give birth.
“Don’t even try that route, Allie. Am I helpless? Is Tyson? TJ, when his head isn’t up in the clouds, I wouldn’t call him helpless either.”
“Mama, I didn’t mean that–”
“Oh, I know what you meant,” she snapped, cutting me off. “You're using us as an excuse. If you trap yourself here, you’re safe. You tell yourself that it keeps you safe. But it's all you, sweetie. We've never held you back. You stay here because you want to, because you want to hide.”
My spine stiffened, and heat flooded my face. “That’s not true,” I said defensively.
“The hell it isn’t,” she spoke her words as she signed them, as if she wanted to make sure there were absolutely no misunderstandings. “You are so afraid of being rejected again, you prefer to just stay here where it’s nice and safe.”
“You don’t…that’s bullshit, Mom.”
“Is it?” She smirked. “You would know bullshit as well as anybody. You are spouting it to me right now. Don’t tell me that this is about us.”
She sighed then and looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle. After a moment
, she looked back at me, and her face was sad. “I know you love us, and I know you want to be here for us, but sweetheart, I took care of you for a long time all by myself. I’m perfectly capable of being TJ’s mom…and it’s a little insulting that you’d think otherwise.”
“Mom, that’s not what I meant,” I said, shame and regret filling me.
She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I know.”
But it didn’t make me feel any better. I knew that a part of it was the way society behaved, always choosing to go through a hearing person whenever possible, treating the deaf like they didn't understand anything. It was too easy to fall into that role, too easy to simply be the voice instead of making other people work for communication. I should have stepped back, forced people to stop being ignorant about my family.
“This is your home, Allie. You'll always have a place here. But you aren’t going to hide behind us.” She brushed my hair back. “You’ve held yourself back from life for too long already, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t apologize to me. You love us, and I know that. But if you want to apologize, then apologize to yourself. You’re the one holding back on yourself.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Baby…what do you want?”
I gave her a puzzled look.
“Maybe I made a mistake, giving you advice about this man.” Then she scowled. “Of course, him being engaged…”
“That’s over.”
“I know you said they ended it.”
Nodding, I looked away.
“Is he what you want?” Eyes narrowed, she pushed on. “And do you want him because of who he is or because he loved your sister?”
“He never loved her,” I said automatically. Realizing my mom wouldn’t understand unless I explained, I quickly told her about the fake pregnancy in as few details as possible.
Mom's eyes widened, then narrowed again. Anger twisted her features as she signed, “That girl. I swear, I never knew a girl who needed a mother as bad as she.”
“She has one,” I said.
“No.” Still looking disgruntled, Mom said, “She has a creator who self-indulgently shaped her into a mirror image of herself, never giving her limits, structure, or discipline. Paisley has no idea what a real mother is – or a father for that matter. Kendrick screwed up with all of his kids.”
