Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you or Dad. If he found out I’m not his son, it’d kill him. I didn’t want to destroy our family more than I already have. Did you know he comes by here every week, behind her back, to see me?”
“No,” I murmur. “I had assumed they both stopped talking to you.” Dad always goes along with whatever Mom wants.
“No, just Mom. I can’t even imagine how pissed she would be if she knew Dad still talked to me.”
We’re both silent for a moment, and then I say, “I don’t think I can keep this to myself. I’ve been feeling so…stuck lately. Trapped. Like I’m drowning under her rules and expectations. Her judgements have gotten worse. To know this entire time she got pregnant out of wedlock and doesn’t even know who the father is… It makes me feel sick.” All this time she’s been pointing her finger at me and Stephen. Throwing Bible verses our way. I’m not judging her for her past. Had she come to us with the truth, I would’ve understood. But to hide it all these years from everyone…from her husband…I’ve lost all respect for her.
“She has to live with herself. If you want to confront her, that’s up to you. Just don’t let her navigate your life like she does with Dad and everyone else around her. Life is too short to not be happy, Nevaeh. Promise me you’ll find your own life and live it to the fullest,” he says. “Live hard and love harder.”
Why does it sound like my brother is giving me parting words, like something you hear someone say before they die?
“Promise me.”
“Okay.” I nod, my stomach tightening from my sudden nerves. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
He gets up to throw his garbage away, silently ending our conversation, but for me the thoughts running through my head have only begun. I need to process everything he’s just told me. It’s as if everything I’ve ever known is no longer true. The trust and respect I had for my mom is gone.
No longer hungry, I follow him into the kitchen to throw my container of food away as well. Stephen puts the leftovers into the fridge while I silently wash the couple dishes we used, still in shock by everything he just threw at me. My mind flips through every decision I’ve ever made. In some way, shape, or form, my mother has been there to influence me. To block me. To deter me. To guilt me. No more.
Just as I’m finishing washing the last dish, there’s a loud, commanding knock at the door that shakes me from my thoughts. I notice Stephen immediately tense up before he mumbles something under his breath as he leaves the kitchen to answer the door.
I take a root beer from the fridge and pop the top, taking a large gulp before I start cleaning up the kitchen for him. I’ve wiped down two of the counters when Stephen walks back in. Grabbing my shoulders, his eyes plead with mine. “I need to deal with the person at the door.”
“What?” After the way he’s been acting, his statement worries me. “What’s going on?”
“Nevaeh, please. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Okay, I need to use the bathroom anyway.”
Stephen tightens his grip on my shoulders, not enough to cause pain but enough for my worrying to increase. “Stay in there until I come get you. Okay?”
I nod my understanding, not wanting to argue with him, and head to the bathroom while he walks toward the front door.
The bathroom has been upgraded since I was last here. It has a huge shower with waterfall showerheads. I peek inside and see a television that fits securely inside the wall. Why the heck would you need a television in the shower? I look at his bathroom rug and it has the New York Jets logo on it.
That’s probably why.
I sit to go pee and look around, wondering where he got the money to upgrade his bathroom. I imagine police officers make an okay living, but enough to put flat screens in the shower?
The sound of two men arguing has me halting in place for a brief second before I bring my jeans back up and snap them closed. I probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but something doesn’t feel right.
A loud thud comes from the living room and immediately I go on high alert, wanting to see what is going on out there—to make sure my brother is okay.
“Fuuuuck!” a man’s voice yells out—a voice I know for a fact doesn’t belong to my brother. My heart is beating out of my chest and fear overpowers every emotion. The front door slams shut and, ignoring my brother’s command to stay put, I run out to the living room to check on him.