Elle and the Exchange Student

Chapter 17

Elle's Point of View:

As I walk through the front door, I can already tell I'm about to get a lecture. There're so many things wrong here, at least in my mother's opinion, I don't even know where to start; me obviously skipping school - because it's not even 3pm and I'm already home, me hanging out with a boy and me not informing her about any of these.

As I'm mentally preparing myself for what's to come, my mother starts to passive-aggressively clean the kitchen countertops.

"So, young lady, are you going to take the initiative to tell me what happened, or do I really need to start asking questions?" she kickstarted a conversation that would most likely stretch throughout the entire night.

I just stand there, leaning against the wall on the other side of the kitchen, and try to calm myself. I sigh deeply, trying to decide whether to be a bitch or a good obedient girl. After having to deal with Dae this morning and entire afternoon, I was already on the verge of a breakdown. So, I guess we are going with the bitchy-teenage-daughter.

"I could say the same for you, Sam" I said.

Here's the thing, I almost never call my mother 'mom'. She lost the right to be called that years ago. And the fact that she hates it when I call her by her first name, makes me want to use it more often.

"What are you talking about?" she said confused.

"You called the school nurse? Like seriously that's low, even from you" I accused.

"Watch your mouth, Elle! I am simply worried about you and I got you help" she stated, still wiping the already-clean countertops.

"Did it even occur to you that you could have talked to me first?"

"I have tried many times and -" she defended.

"Oh my god, you have not! Not once have you mentioned anything about this...matter." I interrupted her. I mentally slapped myself for not thinking of a better way of saying that, but I couldn't actually admit to her that I have a eating disorder or something, because I don't. I am fine.

"And what is the matter you're referring to?" she asked smugly.

"You tell me, since you're the one being so concerned!"  I yelled.

"Oh, darling, I am well aware that you skip meals. And that you throw up in the shower, which I forbid you to do again! Your father won't be too happy if we have to call the plumber because your vomit blocks the pipes" she said, almost excitedly mixed with a hint of disgust, as if she just revealed some scandalous gossip of a person she doesn't like. Worry or love could not be heard in her voice.

Samantha Helena Edwards, mother of the year, everyone!

I was too shocked by her words to respond. We just stood there staring at everything but each other's eyes, both trying to gather our thoughts and feelings.

In arguments like this, I either say whatever comes to mind without thinking about it first or I stay quiet for literally thirty minutes trying to come up with the perfect come-back.

The latter is something I'm used to doing specifically because of my mother. Growing up all of us siblings had to be very careful about what or how we said things to her. Our choice of words could either create a fight of a lifetime, days-long silent treatment or a happy and easy-going family night. And trust me, we all did our best so it could be the last one.

Mom was the worst. All of us, even dad, tip toed around her, trying to please her in every way possible. As long as Samantha was happy, everyone else was happy too. And God forbid, if she was in a bad mood, the whole day was ruined for everyone else as well.