Shattered
~MARI~
When I get home, I'm blindsided. I walk through the door and drop my book bag on the floor. I expect to be alone. My parents go out to dinner together on Thursday nights, but tonight they didn't go. Tonight they're home, waiting for me.
"Mari dear, pick up your school bag and put it away." Mom's voice meets me before I find her in the kitchen. I don't double back for my books.
"What's wrong? Why are you still here?" I glance around, looking for Daddy, but I don't see him.
Mother replies, "There was an important development with the lawsuit. That girl you punched in the face came by looking for you. Your father sent her away, but her parents called later." She moves through the kitchen getting a lunch bag ready. She puts in a sandwich and pours the coffee into a travel mug. She glances at me. "We worked everything out. If you apologize, they'll drop the suit."
"What?" I squeak. My hackles rise. I can't stand it. I can't believe she even said it. "You want me to apologize to her? You realize that this is the same person who bullied me every day for the past three years? This is the same person who - "
Mother gives me a look that makes me stop talking. It doesn't matter what I say. The decision was made without me. I press my eyes closed and sigh way too loud. I want to scream at her. I want her to act like she loves me and not like a goddamn robot all the time. She tries so hard to make my dad happy, like he's the only thing that matters. Why'd they even have me? I don't understand. I doubt I ever will.
Mother's voice carries a warning when she speaks. "Go upstairs and apologize. She's been waiting for you."
My eyes go so wide that they nearly fall out of my head and roll across the floor. "What? What did you say?"
"She's in your room, Mari. You've kept her waiting long enough already. Go apologize and you better be nice. If this blows up, your father won't like it." She glares at me and wipes down the counter. I stare at her. It's the only thing I can do. Screaming at Mother doesn't help. It's like she's a hollowed out shell. It doesn't matter how loudly I speak, she won't hear me. Mom would let me sign away my own life if it made my dad happy.
Gritting my teeth, I say, "Fine." I sprint-walk toward my room and fly up the stairs. When I pull the door open, Brie is standing in front of my desk. She was obviously looking through things.
"Hey, virgin," she beams and waves the tips of her fingers at me. "My daddy said you owe me an apology. So let's have it." She folds her narrow arms over her ample chest and tilts her head to the side, obviously pleased.
I want to pull her hair out. I want Brie to go away and leave me alone. I knew she was gunning for me and this is lightweight for Brie. I suppose I should be happy, but I still want to shove her down a well. I manage a fake smile, and say in my nice voice, "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Brie."
There's something about the look in Brie's eye that tells me that she already got what she came here for. My stomach falls into my shoes when she walks past me, her heels clicking on the floor. Leaning closer, she whispers, "This isn't over, Mary. I don't need my daddy to fight my battles for me. Watch your back." She smiles at me like she couldn't be more pleased.
My heart pounds harder. My fingers ball into fists at my sides. I'm so close to snapping. I don't care if my dad gets sued. It'd be worth it. But something holds me back. I don't clothesline her and shove her down the stairs. Brie leaves my room. I don't follow her out. Instead, I sit down hard on my bed and hold my head between my hands. How could they? Betrayal snakes up my throat and tastes vile.
Mother's voice carries up to my room. The door is open. I hear her thank Brie for her kind, forgiving, spirit and wish her a good evening. Then, Mother walks up the stairs. I hear her familiar footfalls and I wish so badly that she tried to help me, just once. I need her. I want her, but she's never there.
"Now, that wasn't so hard was it?" She's standing in my doorway with her jacket on over her scrubs.
"How would you know? You aren't the one who stood up for yourself and then had to apologize to the asshat that was harassing you. Was that you? Because I thought that was me?"
"Don't be so dramatic, Mari. This will end well, and before it wouldn't have. Be thankful that she was so forgiving." Mom walks into the room, and fluffs a pillow on the bed next to me. She doesn't sit by me, she doesn't offer any support whatsoever.
Tears are in my eyes. I shake my head and look up at her. "Yes, I'll remember how forgiving she is next time she hurts me. I'll remember how my mother liked Brie better than me, and I'll thank Brie for kicking my ass and invite her to tea!" I lose it. I'm standing, screaming in her face. I can't help it.
Instead of fighting back, my mother rolls her eyes and turns to leave. "Honestly, Mari. You're almost an adult. Such juvenile behavior is unbecoming."
She glances over my outfit, over the cami with no flannel, and scrunches up her nose. "And you are not to dress like this again. You look like a streetwalker in that shirt. The boys will think you're giving it away and then what will you do? You can't punch every person who offends you, dear." She looks back at me and smiles, like one of those TV moms that always knows best - the one with an apron and a pie in her hand - the one who is there when her children come home - the one who is there when they cry. My mom thinks she is that mother, and that all my cries for help are silly attempts to get her attention. It makes me crazy.
"Good night, mother," I say through gritted teeth. Too many thoughts race through my head. They are things I should never say, things I should never feel.
Mom leaves and I close the door behind her. Turning I press my back against the door and slide down to the floor. My hair sticks to the tears that refuse to stay in my eyes and fall down my cheeks. I push my tangled mess back and slide my palms over my eyes. When I look up, my gaze lands on the wall with the bulletin board. I stare for a moment. Something's different, but I don't know what.