Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 18: Drew

We're on our way to our second appointment with my doula, Patricia, when my eldest sister calls.

I hesitate, knowing exactly why she's calling. But she's called five times already, and the longer I dodge her, the nastier she gets. Suppressing a sigh, I hit the answer button, hoping she's in a good mood.

"Hello, Irene." I keep my tone light, maybe she'll match my energy.

"Well, nice of you to answer." Nope, not in a good mood. Her tone is icy, with a hint of acid. Great.

"I've been in and out of meetings all day; I'm sorry I couldn't answer before now." I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my pulse to slow. I can't show emotion when talking to my sister. It's always misconstrued.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You're so busy with your big fancy New York City job, you can't be bothered to talk to your lowly housewife sister." She is practically spitting venom through the phone. Next to me, Damon stiffens in his seat. I have no doubt he can hear her, especially her tone. I'd protect him from this if I could, but he's now indefinitely tied to my family and will need to get used to this behavior.

"You know I didn't mean anything by my statement except that I was busy. It wasn't an indictment on being a stay-at-home mom." This is neither the first nor the last time we will have this conversation.

"Yeah, whatever." Such a mature response. "You know why I'm calling. Are you coming? I tried to tell mom you wouldn't bother, but she still holds on to the hope that her precious baby will come home."

My free hand curls into a tight fist, and suddenly I feel sick. Why is she such a raging bitch?

"I'm not coming. Mom knows why; she just refuses to accept my reasoning." Damon's hand gently takes mine as I'm talking, forcing it to unfurl and intertwine with his. His thumb takes up a comforting rhythm across the back of my hand. It's weird, but this simple contact helps to ground me. Keep me from falling into the memories that I'd rather forget.

"Ugh, you're so selfish. He never hurt you; why do you have to pretend like he was a monster? You're just doing this to hurt mom." If Irene were here in person, I wouldn't put it past her not to slap me. She used to do that anytime she got frustrated with me as a kid. I've never told anyone that.

I don't suppress my sigh this time; I make sure she hears it. "Irene. I don't care anymore that you don't believe me. I don't care that mom won't accept it either. I have to take care of my own mental well-being, and going this weekend will only hurt. I can't pretend that I'm sorry he's gone; I can't pretend that I've forgiven mom. I just can't. You can tell mom that if she wants a relationship with me, she will have to reach out. Because I'm done." I hang up before she's able to spit more venom at me. I'm sure I'll also hear from my other sisters over the next few days. Only Olivia will be nice about it. She's the closest in age to me, which is still a ten-year difference.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Damon never letting go.

Maybe it's the handholding or the fact that he heard that whole conversation but hasn't asked me to elaborate. Or maybe, it's because I'm sick of pretending that we aren't building something together. Whatever it is, I find myself spilling it all.

"My father emotionally abused me." He squeezes my hand, turning his body to face me. I keep my eyes trained forward; if I look at him now, I'll fall apart. "I'm fifteen years younger than my eldest sister Irene; she was the raging bitch on the phone. My sister, closest to me in age, is Olivia, and that's a ten-year difference. They don't really remember what it was like for me. They either weren't around or pretended not to see. My mother, too, she just let it happen. My father was... He was the classic white-male conservative who believed women should be at home in the kitchen while the men went out and earned the household income. My mom never got a college degree, she met my dad in her Junior Year, and he forced her to drop out before her Senior Year. I don't know if they had a more balanced relationship at the beginning of their marriage, but by the time I came around, she was this meek person who only saw what her husband wanted her to see."