Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
As tears prick my eyes like I knew they would, I lean down to give both of them a hug. My aunt pretends not to see how emotional I get and tells me she’s happy to see me. My mom wraps her arm around my waist and hugs me back while my aunt does the same.
After a long hug, I pat them both on the back and straighten up. “Should I get us some coffee? Tea?”
My aunt wants coffee and my mom wants tea, so I head into the kitchen. I know my way around just fine. It isn’t the first time and I’d be naive to think it’ll be the last. The kitchen is small and a little dated, but it's squeaky clean and well-organized. I find tea bags above the stove and put water on to boil. A pot of coffee that seems pretty fresh is waiting on the burner of my aunt's coffee machine.
Over the clacking of mugs in the cupboard, I can hear their voices talking quietly while I wait for the water to boil and pour it over the tea bag. I try not to eavesdrop, even though I know my mother will tell me if I ask. She doesn’t keep it from me anymore. She hasn’t for years. As I try to count how many times we’ve been in this very situation over the last twelve years, I steep the tea and add a little milk and sugar. Just how she likes it. Then I pour my aunt's coffee, also with a splash of milk. Just how she likes it.
I can't decide between coffee and tea and finally settle on tea. While it steeps, I bring my mom and aunt their drinks. They're still sitting close together on the couch, and my mom is wiping at her eyes.
My throat gets tight with frustration, and I go to get my own tea. By the time I get back to the living room and settle into the chair across from them, my mom's eyes are dry again. I can tell it's not the end of her tears, though. She has a dimple in her chin and the corner of her mouth keeps wavering up and down.
I hate him. I hate my father more than he’ll ever know. More than I could ever express. I hate even more that she loves him. Love is for fools.
My mom alternates between deep breaths and sips of her tea.
“I'm really doing it this time.” She tries to sound confident but her voice hitches in the middle of her sentence. “I am,” she says, and nods like she wants me to nod along with her. I’ve heard it so many times before though and I used to believe it. Now I just prepare for the next time because there’s no hope left.
My aunt rubs at my mom's shoulder, careful not to jostle either of their drinks. “You can stay here as long as you want. You know that, right? You and Renee both know that?”
“Thank you, Aunt Laura,” I tell her when she looks at me.
“Neither of you have room for me,” my mom says. “I'm not going to be in your way for any longer than I have to.”
“You're not in anybody's way,” I say, sharing a quick look at my aunt. “You could stay with me. I don't have a spare bedroom but the couch pulls out, and you wouldn't be in my way.” She’s done it before and I think my place being small and her feeling guilty is what led her to go back. I’m grateful my aunt loves my mom. I’m grateful she can crash here. I just know she doesn’t have money and he has it all. I don’t have to ask to know he’s turned off her cards, probably telling the bank someone stole them. I’m sure the savings and checking accounts are empty. I’m sure she’s screwed financially.
He says things will change every single time and they don’t. It always ends up like this. My gaze lands on her black eye. Well it hasn’t always been this bad. Each time it gets a little bit worse.
My aunt waves me off. “Oh, stop it. Renee's place is small. I have the room, and I mean it when I say you can stay here as long as you want. We can be the crazy old ladies who live in the corner house. I have a spare witch's hat you can wear when we pass out candy on Halloween.” That gets a small laugh from each of us even though my aunt wears a sad smile.
“If you have a hat, then I guess I can stay,” my mom says while wiping the corners of her eyes. She loves my father. She believes him every single time and tells me how it didn’t used to be like this. That he’s going to change back into the man he was…