Libby answers after the fourth ring. “Hey girl! Sorry, I just walked in the house and couldn’t find my phone in this mess of a purse I have.”
As soon as I hear her voice the dam breaks free, and tears start rolling down my face. The cry I’ve been holding in since walking into my mom’s room erupts from my throat in a loud sob.
“Dakota?” Libby’s voice is serious now. “Is everything okay? But wait, are you driving right now?”
I nod my head and then realize she can’t see me, so I squeak out a meek, “Yes.”
“I need you to pull over,” my bestie commands. “Wherever you’re at, just pull over and put your car in park.”
I’m still in my neighborhood, so it’s easy enough to steer my vehicle to the curb. Luckily, there aren’t any houses directly in front of the space, so I have some semblance of privacy while I break down and completely lose it.
“Are you parked?” Libby asks in a concerned voice.
“Yeah,” I manage to sniffle. My friend sighs.
“Is it Eddie? I swear that asshole doesn’t deserve you.”
“It is, but it isn’t too. It’s my mom,” I stammer.
Libby lets out another loud sigh because she’s familiar with Denise and her shenanigans.
“Your mom? I swear they shouldn’t let some people be parents because they’re just not fit for the job. There should be a test or something. You know she’s got body issues and she projects them on you. It’s insane! You’re gorgeous, and you don’t need to starve yourself to fit her distorted view of what a woman should look like.”
“No,” I sniffle again, tears pooling once more. “It’s not that. I mean, she did call me fat, but I’m used to that. This, oh god, Libby, this is far worse. I knew Denise was never a model parent, but this goes beyond the pale. I never imagined she could do something this cruel.”
My friend tries to calm me down.
“Dakota, take a minute, sweetie. You sound like you’re about to hyperventilate. I want you to just relax and get some oxygen, and then you can tell me what that witch did.”
I drop my head back against the headrest of my seat and try to do what Libby said, inhaling to fill my lungs. The extra oxygen does help, and I feel somewhat calmer, although not a lot.
“Do you feel a little better now?” Libby asks in a supportive voice.
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” she says. “Now, tell me what Denise did. I know it’s something horrific.”
“It is, but it wasn’t just her.”
Libby groans again. “Ugh. She’s pulling others into her crap now. Let me guess: she has a friend who’s another desperate, middle aged single woman who looks for happiness by bringing others down. Were they doing jazzercise in crazy-colored 80’s outfits when you burst in on them? And then did they try to get you to join them by shaming you?”
I shake my head although a smile comes on my face. Libby has never shied away from calling my mother out for exactly what she is, and it’s one of the reasons I love her. But then reality pops back up in my mind, and my smile falls.
“No. Nothing like that, although I wish it were that.”
“Then who’s her new accomplice?”
“Eddie,” I manage to choke out.
The line is silent for a moment and I know Libby is trying to imagine all the ways my mom would team up with Eddie to hurt me, but I’m certain she won’t get this one because the betrayal is just so unbelievable.
“I’m at a loss,” she finally says. “Tell me.”
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself to say the words out loud for the first time. “When I got home from work, I thought I heard raccoons in the attic again, so I went upstairs to look.”
“I’m guessing there weren’t any raccoons,” my buddy drawls.
“You’re right. It wasn’t animals because when I went upstairs, there were pounding sounds coming from my mom’s room, and when I peeked inside, they were doing it. I walked in on her having sex, Libs. With my boyfriend. With Eddie.”
On the other end of the line there’s a jangling sound, like Libby is digging keys out of her purse. “I’m on my way,” she says. “What the fuck? This is so fucking awful.”
“You don’t have to come,” I say in a small voice.
“Oh, I’m coming, and I’m going to kill them. Yup. That’s it. They’re dead.”
I smile. Libby is the real deal when it comes to best friends. She’s always had my back, no matter who the bully was. Unfortunately for me, that bully has always been my mother, and over the years, Libby has taken every chance she can to take a jab at my mother. My friend does things like calling Denise a toothpick, or suggesting she weigh her purse down with bricks so the wind won’t blow her away, and even hinting that my mom have me call her “Denise.” Of course, my mother loved the idea because she thought it made her sound young and cool, but Libby was just pointing out that she didn’t deserve the title of “Mom.”