Desperate Chances

This was my parents’ dynamic. Dad went to work and when he got home, Mom waited on him hand and foot. She seemed happy enough to do it, but the thought of sliding back into that mind numbing routine was enough to make me want to scream.

“Yes, Dad, I got new tires last week,” I replied sharply, waiting for the judgment. Expecting it. So, I was surprised when I didn’t get any.

“That’s very responsible of you, Gracie,” he said gruffly, sipping on his gin and tonic. I supposed that’s where I developed my love for that particular cocktail.

“This doesn’t taste right, Sarah,” my father remarked, holding up his drink.

Mom glanced in my direction. “That’s because it doesn’t have gin in it, darling. It’s lime and soda. Grace is here, after all. We can’t have the alcohol out.”

I snorted and both of my parents turned to me with narrowed eyes.

“You don’t have to hide the booze when I’m here, Mom. I won’t reach across the table and guzzle it. Dad can have a G&T. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re a recovering alcoholic, Gracie. Your mother is just trying to be sensitive,” Dad admonished, always defending her. Even when she was a raging bitch, my dad had her back. I guessed there was something sort of lovely about that.

“Which reminds me, the new locked liquor cabinet should be arriving next week,” my mother said as she put the steaming casserole down in front of my dad.

Locked liquor cabinet? Seriously?

“I just don’t want you to feel tempted once you move home,” Mom added.

That was it.

I couldn’t take it any more.

I was at the end of my very short rope.

“I’m not moving home, Mom. It’s not happening. I’m quite happy in my apartment. I have a good job. I have a life.”

Mom handed dad a basket of rolls. “So how was your day, Leonard?” she asked, completely ignoring me. My voice was never, ever heard in this house.

Well, that was ending now.

I stood up abruptly, my chair falling backwards, and hitting the hardwood floor with a loud clang.

“Grace Evelyn, pick up that chair immediately and sit down like you have some sense,” my mother ordered.

I picked up the chair, but I didn’t sit back down. “I can’t stay for dinner,” I said.

My dad frowned, his face thunderous. “You’re being insolent, Gracie. Your mother worked hard on this dinner. Now you sit down and eat!”

“No. I won’t. I’m leaving. I won’t sit at this table and allow you to treat me like I can’t think for myself.” Deep breaths. Stay calm. Don’t lose it now.

“I’ve made mistakes. Who hasn’t? I’m sorry that I worried you. That I made you look bad in front of your friends, but I’m trying here. But I’m more than aware that no matter what I do, it’s not good enough for you. I’m a twenty-four year old woman with a good job and a place to call home. I pay my bills and I file my taxes. I have people in my life that love and respect me, and I feel pretty damn lucky. And I am not moving back here. So you don’t need a locked liquor cabinet, because I won’t be living under this roof.”

I turned and left the dining room, my heart beating so hard and fast that I could barely hear anything else.

I had stood up to my parents.

Now I was walking out of their house.

Without eating my mother’s casserole.

She’d be holding a serious grudge over that one.

“Gracie Evelyn Cook, don’t you dare step one foot outside this house!” my dad shouted. I pulled on my coat and grabbed my purse, but I hesitated.

I didn’t want to upset my parents but there were limits to what I was willing to stomach. And I was way over my limit.

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