“When the hell were you going to tell me that you got a divorce?” I snap, trying to catch my breath.
She doesn’t even seem surprised that I know. I think she’s too tired at this point. Or she just doesn’t care. I’m not sure which one I’d rather it be.
“Emilee …” She softly says my name.
“Don’t do that.” I shake my head. “Don’t talk to me like I’m five, Mother. You got a divorce.” I growl. “A divorce? Why …? What?” I reach up and start yanking on the bobby pins and ponytail holder that kept the bun in place. “Fuck!” I hiss, scratching my head roughly.
“Will you give us a second?” she asks her nurse in a soft voice.
I begin to pace the large room. My eyes scan over the white carpet. My mother has always been a clean freak, but to be honest, she always paid someone to do it for her. My father gave her the ability to hire help, to allow her to be a stay-at-home mother who never had to worry how the mortgage was going to be paid or where her next meal would come from. I think she took that for granted.
Once she exits, my mother begins. “It’s complicated—”
“No. It’s not,” I interrupt her. “You. Got. A. Divorce. Who wanted it? You or Daddy?” My chest is heaving with every wild breath I take. The news of their divorce is hitting me hard. I understand that not every marriage works out. I’m not stupid. I know how love works. People change over the years and grow apart. It’s the fact that she never told me. I talked to her all the time. She had thousands of chances to come clean, and she chose not to.
She lets out a long sigh and pats the large space next to her. I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to move. I love my mother, but I’m not going to give her a pass because of her condition. She’s been lying to me. Daddy had been lying to me. What else don’t I know?
“Who?” I demand.
“It was mutual.”
“Bullshit!” I snap.
“Emilee …”
I throw my hands up. “Fuck this.” And turn to leave. As my hand turns the doorknob, she speaks.
“I wanted it.”
I keep my back to her, and my chest tightens. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it. My mother once told me “someone always loves the other more,” and my father loved her more.
“I wasn’t happy. And neither was he. Even though he wouldn’t admit it.” A silence fills the room. “It had been a long time coming.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask roughly. “Why didn’t Daddy tell me?”
“He wanted to.” She coughs. “But I talked him into waiting.”
I turn to face her, and tears fill my eyes. “So even after you left him and broke his heart, you still managed to control him?” I shake my head with disgust.
She closes her heavy eyes and runs her hands down over the sheets. “I was ashamed—”
“You should be!” I interrupt her, hearing the bedroom door open behind me. I turn to leave her but come to a stop when I see who has entered. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.
“Emilee.” My mother sighs. “Please quit using such harsh language.”
I watch with confusion and horror as George undoes his tie and walks past me. He goes over to the side of the bed and bends down to kiss my mother’s forehead.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” I shout.
“You didn’t tell her?” he asks my mother.
She waves off his concern. “She’s been through enough for one day.”
My eyes dart down to where he’s grabbed her hand. His dark eyes lock on mine as he bends down and kisses her fingers. My blood begins to boil just as I close my fists.
“What happened to you?” my mother asks him. “You smell like alcohol.”
He smirks at me. I want to go over there and knock the bitch out, but I can’t move. My legs are cemented to the floor. Is this what shock feels like?
“Just an accident.” He winks at me. “It won’t happen again.”
“You can’t be serious?” I manage to choke out. “Mom?” I look at her. The blood rushes in my ears, and I’m trying to catch my breath. “Is this …?”
“I’m tired, dear,” she says, closing her eyes.
“Mom …”
“She said she’s tired,” he growls at me. “Come back tomorrow. She needs her rest.” He pulls the covers up and tucks her in. “What can I get you, darling?” he asks her.
Come back tomorrow? I live here. This is my home too. “Mom.” I lick my lips. “You can’t be serious. He …”
“She’s had enough for one day,” he snaps. “Get out or I will …”
“What?” I shout. “Have me thrown out of my own house?”