She frowns, looking over her shoulder. It’s a complete mess behind her. How dad sleeps with her in a space that’s more like a messy artist’s loft than a real bedroom, I’ll never understand.
“I really shouldn’t. I’m so behind, Sadie. Why don’t you run along and tell your father I’ll be down soon? Only an hour, okay?” Her eyes are pleading.
I’m looking right through her. Staring at the white canvass splotched with random black smears, the places where she missed on the floor, the holes she knocked in the wall during a really bad episode a couple weeks ago. Jesus.
I can’t believe it’s our lives sometimes.
It was never like this before the breakdown.
“Oh, come. If it really means this much to you, then I suppose one little night off won’t hurt.” She smiles sweetly like she’s done me a huge favor. My eyes must have really looked like hell to break through her obsession.
“Thanks, mom. See you downstairs soon.” I wait in the laundry room around the corner until she finishes her shower, and I hear her coming. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s changed her mind.
My fingers keep tugging at the scrap of paper tucked in my pocket.
NANNY WANTED.
I’ve been unpaid help for the last six months. The good, faithful, dedicated daughter. The girl who put her life on hold to bail out a family crisis – what choice did I have after Jackson twisted my arm?
I don’t mind helping out. Really. Even though I’m totally unprepared and undereducated after dropping out of college, I do what I have to, ignoring how my patience is bleeding out one day at a time.
But I’m not an angel. I’m not selfless. I haven’t given up on life.
I need money. I need hope. I need a future.
NANNY WANTED.
I’ll have to talk to Jackson first. He’s harder because he always has dad’s ear, even though our father likes to pretend he’s his own man.
I’m laughing, shaking my head when I stand, already disgusted at the absurd thought of having to ask big brother for his holy permission to take a side job.
If I can deal with this family, though, I think I’m up for anything.
Including a frigid, arrogant, rude beast of a man I want signing my paychecks. I want to prove him wrong even more.
“Damn good gravy tonight. Your cooking, ma?” Jackson stuffs another big uneven bite into his mouth, smacking his lips loudly until Ginger elbows him. They’ve been married for over a year, and she’s still trying to teach my older brother some manners.
Mom looks up from picking at her food and doesn’t answer. Dad smiles, placing his hand over hers, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “I’m the chef tonight, but it’s her recipe. I’m just glad I’ve done it justice. Oh, and your sister helped with chopping. Thanks again, Sadie.”
“So good,” Ginger whispers, popping a bite of ham in her mouth. She’s trying hard to keep the peace before another Kelley dinner turns into a train wreck, and she’s forced to ask herself why she ever married into this family.
“I’m not made of glass,” mom says, her eyes pinpricks. “You did wonderful, Peter. I should’ve been down to help you sooner…”
“Nonsense, Steph!” Dad’s nervous smile grows. He squeezes her hand, his knuckles going white. “You needed your rest. You were at it for, what? Eight, nine hours today?”
“Eleven. I tracked them like always. Producing nothing but complete and utter dog shit.” The last word is like a sudden gust of wind ripping through the house.
Jackson coughs. Ginger looks down at her plate. I try to keep eating because damn it, it’s been a long day, and I’m hungry. Dad does his best to comfort her, but it’s like pushing the pin back into a hand grenade that’s already been triggered.
It physically hurts to see this happening. Again.
For my first twenty-one years of life, it was a rarity to see my mother cry, much less swear like a sailor. Now, it happens almost daily. The tears are already in her eyes.
“What about you, Sadie? Having fun sticking people with needles all day?”
I glare, scratching my fork on the plate a couple times. “It’s a blast. Good training and interesting work. I’ll be ready to find a job as soon as I’m licensed.”
“You’d better. Think dad chopped down the money tree out back last year when we were cleaning up brush.” My big, dumb brother grins like a fool at my mother, hoping she enjoys his joke.
It’s tempting to lay into him. He always thinks I’m the one with my hand out because I went to college while he went into the service. Too bad he’s trying to relieve my mother’s tension in his own sadistic way, and if it saves her from a meltdown, then sure, I’ll put on a brave face.