Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Nope. I’m done listening to you. I have worked myself to the bone my whole life to provide for you, so now you will listen to me.”
Funny, because in all my life, that’s the one thing my mother has never done. It’s always been her speaking and me listening. I’ve never had the chance to voice my concerns because anytime I’ve tried, I’ve been gaslit or ignored entirely. Maybe that worked when I was a child, but if she wants me to grow up, then she needs to start treating me like an adult.
“First things first, I expect you to take my credit card out of your wallet and cut it up,” she orders.
“Fine,” I say.
Cutting up my credit card is extra, even for her, but she’s right. I need to figure it out for myself.
“I expect you to then drop it in the mail. I want you to send it to me to prove it’s been done.”
“Okay.”
“Good, and then after you do that, I expect you to head over to your father’s place. You are too old to be a freeloader. You will work for him. You will do what you need to make connections.”
“I don’t need your lectures anymore. I’m an adult.”
“Too bad, young lady. You’ve made it really clear you can no longer be trusted.”
“Mom—”
“You’re behaving like a child. You are twenty-two years old, and it’s time for you to start acting like it. You understand me?”
“Mother,” I snap. “Can I talk?”
“No,” she barks back, and I’m seconds away from losing my cool for the first time ever. “Josephine . . .” What now? What more can she say to me? It’s bad enough she shipped me to live and work with a man I’ve never met before . . . someone she’s purposely kept out of my life. Now she’s just piling it on thick. “I’m doing this because I love you.”
My heart feels tight in my chest. It’s always the same. Berate and then declare it’s all done out of love. She constantly trivializes my feelings. The older I get, the more I see it for what it is. She gaslights me, and I stonewall her. I should respond, but all I can get out is “Okay.” Then I hang up. There’s no point in trying; nothing will change my mother’s mind once it’s made up. Now, it’s time to face the music.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. This house is much nicer than how I pictured it. In my imagination, living in his guesthouse didn’t make sense, but now it does. The property is ginormous, and the house even bigger. Must be nice to have had all this yet have no relationship with your kid.
Even now that I’m moving in with him, I’m not sure he’ll have any interactions with me. The man won’t even know I’m here.
I take it all in and find myself feeling wholly insecure. Who is this guy?
The house is a large colonial with red brick and white pillars. It’s the type of house that reminds me of a Christmas movie. The type of house where a happy family lives.
It seems a little large for one person.
My stomach plummets . . . is he alone?
I never asked, and now that seems like a very important detail.
He might have a whole family. I might have half-siblings.
I feel sick.
Bile crawls up my throat, and my hand lands on my stomach as if that can stop the ill feeling.
What will I do if he does? It’s been hard enough dealing with the fact that I had a dad I didn’t know about, but what if I have a whole damn family?
I take a step up to the front door and pause for a moment, wondering if I’ll ever be ready for this introduction. No part of me wants to knock, but I’ve already stalled long enough.
It’s time to put my big girl panties on and face whatever’s to come.
Just as I raise my hand to knock, the door swings open, and there he is.
I know it’s him right away because, like me, he has eyes the color of a tropical ocean. So blue they are almost translucent.
My mouth opens and shuts as my hands shake at my sides.
Is this how it feels when your whole life changes?
“You must be Josie? I’m Robert, your father.”
So formal. So awkward.
My hands go behind my back, and I rock on my feet, unsure of what to say or do.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside and motioning for me to enter.
The place is even grander inside. I can’t imagine kids have ever lived here. Everything is marble and expensive. So contrary to where I grew up.
It makes me wonder if this is why Mom kept me away. Did she feel inadequate compared to this man? I surely do, and I’ve hardly spoken a word to him.