Acting Ladylike | On Hold

✩ O N E ✩

  "Adele Davenport, you come right back inside this house, young lady!"

  I freeze in my tracks in the middle of the yard with the weighted bag still slung over my shoulder and my mouth twisting into a frown as if on instinct.

  A second later, a figure emerges from the house, clothed in a frilly white nightgown with curly brown locks identical to mine tumbling over her shoulders and her hands clenched into fists at her side.

  "No, Mother. I'm eighteen! You have to stop treating me as you would a child."

  "I'll treat you as a mother should her daughter." She responds, her strong, slender fingers closing around my wrist as she yanks me back towards the house.

  "Ow! Be gentle, will you?!"

  "You will not raise your voice against me!" Mother responds digging her nails into my skin. I wince, but decide to keep my mouth shut.

  "The third time this month!" Mother's outraged tone carries throughout the house. "Third! You foolish girl!" She harshly shoves me in the direction of the staircase, almost making me stumble over the hem of my dress and go tumbling face first to the floor.

  "I was just enjoying the fresh air, Mother. I swear—"

  "Young ladies do not 'swear,' and young ladies certainly do not try to run away from their homes and their loving families! Ungrateful girl! Some young women don't have half the luxuries you have!"   

  I swallow as I swipe at my face to unstick the hair that had fallen into my eyes during my quick trek through the backyard.

  "H-how did you know?"

  "By God, Adele! You make as much noise as a drunken elephant! If I didn't hear you, I daresay it would be because I was deaf!"

  I wasn't even that loud! Maybe I had dropped a few things and run into the wheelbarrow once or twice—cursed thing, but that couldn't have been loud enough to alert her!

  Could it?

  "It's no wonder your father wanted to leave as soon as he possibly could! I don't blame him!"

  The silence that follows her statement is terrifyingly hushed.

  I feel the swarm of confusing emotions I had tried so hard to push down over the last two years fill my stomach like birds pecking at my insides.

  Mother immediately opens her mouth to say something else, a look of instant regret crossing her face, but no way am I going to stick around to listen to the utter nonsense coming from her mouth.

  Turning on my heel, I rush up the stairs, making sure to grab my quick-escape bag before slamming my door once I reach the landing.

  After throwing the bag down on the floor, I pitch myself onto my bed. It squeals under the weight as I pull the cover over my head and will myself not to burst into unnecessary tears.

  I know my mother is just taking her battling emotions out on me. She's been mentally unstable ever since Father left, stuck trying to appear like everything is just dandy while out and about but taking her feelings out in private when her patience is stretched thin.

  It's not worth it to cry. Tears have never changed anything in either of our lives.

  I could spend my time sulking over a bunch of things, like the fact that Mother and I are still living off the possibly stolen money Father gave us when he left. I could cry over our dysfunctional family. I could cry over how my own mother doesn't understand, or chooses not to understand, half the words that come from my mouth.