I took a bite of the juicy apple and gestured at the spare seats in front of the desk, where she always had Dacia and me sit like dutiful lapdogs. “Sit. We need to talk.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. And where did that atrocious car come from—”
“Sit. Down.” It was time I put an end to my mother’s meddling and rude affairs with the same slap of reality I received yesterday. “I will not repeat myself.”
She wasn’t getting doormat Darla today.
She was getting Principal fucking Hill.
“Watch how you talk to me.”
“Watch howyoutalk to me.” I shot the apple core in her trash can, purposely missing so it landed on her pristine floor. “You have forgotten I’m your daughter. Not your soldier.”
“And you have forgotten I’m your mother,” she sneered, lowering herself to a chair nonetheless. “Address me with respect. That means fixing your attitude and taking your dirty heels off my desk.”
I smirked coolly and entertained her this last time, dropping my feet on the floor. “Did you like my gift, Mother? Zeno bought it for me. Pretty car, don’t you think?”
She pursed her mouth. “You will return that car to him tonight.”
I held the chess piece between my fingers, staring at it thoughtfully. “Did you know you’re legally an adult in Canada by the age of eighteen? Meaning mommy and daddy aren’t needed anymore to make decisions. Therefore, given that I’m twenty-seven, I think I can do whatever the hell I want, Diane.”
She glared at me.
I shot the queen chess piece in the garbage.
This time, I didn’t miss.
“I am sick and tired of you belittling me. For years, Dacia and I have done your bidding. I know how you are when you don’t get your way, and frankly none of us want to deal with your hysteria or disappointment. But I am at this point in my life where I’ve had it. You’ve messed with my last nerve and I amdone,” I enunciated each word carefully, rebellion causing my heart to pump even faster. “How dare you talk about my so-called ego and my weight in front of strangers? What. Is. Wrong. With. You?”
She flinched as if every word was a physical lash.
“You’ve insulted me time and time again, and it’s my fault for allowing you to treat me this way. But I am not responsible for your actions or your words.” I leaned forward on my elbows, my anger barely tamed. “You said my writing would amount to nothing, so I never applied to the creative writing program at Vesta University. You said continuing our legacy was my calling and forced me into the education program. I went along with it because I wanted to please you somaybeyou would see something of worth inside of me. I realize now that will never happen. You don’t see me as your daughter. You see me as your project, Diane. Deny it. I fucking dare you.”
She started crying silently, tears streaming down her cheeks like a murky waterfall.
I hardened my heart against the sight.
With a deep breath, I stood up.
“Take a good look at me.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m twenty-seven. Not eighteen. My body has changed and matured. This isn’t high school anymore. Even when I was a cheerleader, I was slim with curves, just like today.” I worked out hard three days a week to maintain my mental and physical health. I liked the way I looked, but I spent many years not loving what my mirror reflected because of my mother. “Stop trying to make me feel bad about my body because I’m not your ideal. Fuck your ideal.” I threw an arm over her chessboard, letting every piece clatter to the ground. “And honestly, fuck you too for making me feel like shit for years!”
I heaved by the end of my monologue. She cowered under the weight of my accusations, of my pains, when I had spent years cowering under the weight ofherjudgement,herexpectations.
Diane Hill was too proud to apologize. Even now, she trembled with tears and quiet sobs, but not one word of apology left her mouth.
Disgusted, I shook my head. “Your unwanted opinions end here. You will never dictate my professional or personal life again. If you try to, I swear, I will walk out of here and never look back.”
I would get my own place and start over, far from her claws and venom.
“Every penny you have is because of me!” she finally croaked. “I’m the reason why you’re St. Victoria’s principal. I’m the reason why you arewhoyou are.”
I smiled.
There was nothing humorous about it.
“In case you haven’t figured it out, my future husband is a billionaire. I doubt I’ll ever have to work a day in my life. I mean, hey, maybe being a trophy wife won’t be such a bad thing,” I said sarcastically. “And even if I didn’t have him as a safety net, Diane, you forget I am a rich woman.”
“Your salary as a principal doesn’t pay enough to sustain your expensive taste.”