Page 53 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
“If you’re going to carry on, then can we at least do it inside? My neighbor is a terrible gossip.”
It’s far out, really, so far out you almost wouldn’t believe it. That a person who created you could be so damned cold? It happens, though. I’m living proof. Standing here on my old front porch, staring at the woman who brought me into this world, and wondering how in the ever-loving hell I actually survived so long in her care.
“I’ll come in because I want to get some things from my room.”
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “Your room is no longer. I packed all your things away when you . . . left. I gave most of it to charity. I have a few boxes left you can take now.”
Charity.
She gave my things away as if I were dead. Not locked away.
Cold. Hearted. Monster.
“I’ll take those boxes,” I say, my voice a low hiss, “then I’ll get out of your hair and stay out of it.”
She studies me, then rubs her face like she’s tired. “I’m exhausted, Callie. Can we do this another day?”
“No, we’re doing it now. Get me those boxes, or I’ll give the neighbors something to really talk about.”
Her eyes flash with that familiar drama I remember so well, and then she snaps, “I’ll be right back.”
She turns and disappears, and I stare into the house. It’s mostly the same as it was when I left it, only now there is some new furniture. I glance at all the photos on the huge display cabinet she’s always had in the living area. From here, I can see there are at least fifty of them.
From here, I can also see she’s taken down every one of me.
She’s removed me from this world. She’s taken me away as if I never existed.
It hurts; I can’t deny that. I didn’t inherit the cold-hearted gene from her.
She returns, and I flinch, stepping back. She hands me two small boxes that honestly couldn’t contain a great deal. I take them and stare at her.
“I won’t be back to bother you again. I have a million things I’d like to say to you, Mom, but I’ll keep it short. You let me down. You let me down at a time when I needed you the same as I needed the very air I breathe. You let your own issues and your own selfishness drive you instead of giving your daughter what she so desperately needed. A mother. I wish it were different, but I can see now that you’re never going to change. You’re always going to be the cold-hearted, selfish woman I know you to be. I should have never expected anything different. The funny thing is, I’m better off without you. I got through it, even when I thought I couldn’t. I made it on my own. I’ll keep making it on my own. You gave birth to me, but you’re not a mother; you’re not my mother. I wish you well, but I deserve so much more.”
I turn on my heel and walk off, boxes in my hand.
And I close the door on this chapter of my life forever.
It’s forward for me now.
The past is no longer.
“YOU ARE A HARD WORKER, Callie,” Andrea says as we lock the doors to the café late at night.
We held a function, and I’ve been here since six a.m. this morning helping Andrea as she was short-staffed. It was a long night, but it was incredible. It kept me busy, and kept my mind in the right now, instead of reliving what happened the day before with my mother, who never called or tried to fix things. She gave me the final answer to any questions I had been asking.
She doesn’t care.
That’s fine with me.
“It was a great night. You did amazing,” I tell her as we turn and walk to my car.
I pull out my keys and unlock it, then turn to Andrea, who is watching me with a smile on her face.
“Are you still coming on Saturday night?” she asks me.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m bringing my friend Jo; it should be great. Tanner invited me to another party at his place after it, so no doubt the night will get messy.”
She laughs. “It will if you’re with Tanner and the boys. They party hard, but they’re a bunch of fun.”
“Well, I better get going before I fall asleep standing. Thanks, Andrea. It was a great night.”
She smiles and says, “Be careful getting home.”
When she’s gone, I get into the car and drive back to the apartment. I don’t know if Jo is there or not, but I know I’ll be falling straight into bed as soon as I get in.
I walk up the front steps once I’m parked, digging around in my purse for the keys. After a few minutes, I come up empty. Oh no. Did I leave my keys at work? I use the flashlight on my phone to search again, but they’re not here.
