“How about she not be mad at me, period? She doesn’t have any reason to be pissed off. I haven’t done anything to her. To accuse me of always getting what I want, like I’m some spoiled brat…?”
He lifted his left shoulder and tilted his head toward it, giving me the scrunched-up face that said, “well…they’re right and you’re wrong, but I’m not going to say that so I’m just going to shrug, cock my head to the side, and curl my lip like I just ate old cheese.”
“I am not a spoiled brat.” I shoved at him again and fought to slide off the vanity.
But he refused to let me. Instead, he remained between my legs, his hands on my shoulders with his thumbs beneath my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “I wouldn’t say ‘spoiled brat,’ and I’m sure your sister didn’t use those words, either. But you do get away with a lot. And you pretty much get everything you want.”
I was pretty sure my eyes were about to bug out of my head with as wide as I opened them to stare at him. “Did I get what I wanted on my first day of kindergarten? When I was so excited to finally be in school like everyone else, with a backpack on and my hair neatly braided, only to hear my mom do nothing but brag about Nikki going to college? Her first baby, away at school. Out of the nest. And it wasn’t just once, either. I understand that my memory isn’t so great from that long ago, and there’s a chance things have been exaggerated over the years, but from what I recall, she brought it up a thousand times.”
“Really? A thousand? You sure it wasn’t like a hundred million?”
“Don’t be an ass,” I whined and slapped his chest. “You know what I mean. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, when she picked me up that day, she spent the entire drive home on the phone, talking about Nikki. So I don’t recall getting what I wanted then. Or how about when my parents told me they’d let me take piano lessons when I was ten, providing I made good grades? But when I did what was asked of me, earned straight As, I was told piano lessons were out of the question because Nikki got knocked up so they had a wedding to pay for and not much time to save. Which means my piano money funded her shotgun wedding. And after that, they had to help financially support them because Shane was still in college.”
Even though he didn’t move and continued to force me to look at him, at least he stopped talking. Instead, he stood there, perched between my parted legs, hands on my face, with his thumbs ever so gently removing the streaks of exasperation from my cheeks.
“And Stacey has no room to talk. She moved away for college and only moved back when her husband lost his job and she couldn’t afford to solely keep her family afloat. So who the hell does she think she is, saying anything about me being gone? At least I didn’t come crawling back to Mommy and Daddy, begging for their help because my man couldn’t hold onto his paycheck.”
“Don’t…Janelle.” He shook his head, sorrow filling his eyes. “You don’t know anything about that situation. So until you do, maybe you shouldn’t throw stones.”
“Then tell me. He didn’t lose his job?”
“No…he did. He was let go.”
“Okay then.” I refused to listen to him argue in her favor. “I didn’t say anything wrong. He was let go. Laid off. Fired. Forced retirement. I don’t care what term it’s given or what they’re calling it. Bottom line is, he lost his paychecks so they came back with their tails tucked between their legs and let everyone else take care of them.”
Finally, with a hearty intake of air, he stepped away from me. “You’re angry over hearing her say hurtful things about you behind your back. I get it. You have every right to feel upset, but how is what you’re doing any better? How is it any different?”
I refused to answer him, because I didn’t like admitting that he was right.
“Surely, you can understand the need to get it out to someone you care about, knowing it’s a safe place, rather than let it fester and ruin your day.”
“So it’s okay for her to talk shit about me, but I can’t say anything about her? What’s going on, Holden? Do you have a thing for her? Are you two fucking behind Tony’s back?” As soon as he leaned toward me, his hand in a fist with one finger pointed angrily in my direction, I knew I’d overstepped my bounds.
I just didn’t know how far until he started to talk.
“This is your family. There will be highs. There will be lows. But no matter what, at the end of the day, they are yours. They share your blood, your sweat, your tears. If you ever find yourself needing them, they will rally together and come for you, no questions asked. The least you can do is show them the same courtesy.”
“Why are you on their side?” I asked in such a desperate whisper I had to close my eyes, not wanting him to see me as exposed as I felt in that moment.
“I really wish you could see this for what it is. I’m not on their side, Janelle. I’m on yours.” And with that, he yanked the door open with enough strength, I worried he’d torn it off its hinges. Then he stalked away and left me alone on the vanity, tears tracking down my face.
I’d never felt so alone in my life. Rather than lock myself in the bathroom, I followed Holden out. But where he turned left to meet everyone outside on the back patio, I turned right, heading to the front door. I made it outside but stopped on the top step, realizing by the sight of Holden’s burnt-orange Challenger, that I didn’t have a car. Which meant I had no way of leaving. I was stuck here, whether I liked it or not.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Matthew asked from behind me, probably seeing me run out and knowing something was wrong.
I quickly wiped my face and took a seat on the front stoop, not speaking until he joined me. “No one wants me here, but they don’t have the balls to tell me to my face. Instead, I have to hear it being whispered behind my back.”
“I’m not sure what you heard or who you heard say it, but I’m willing to bet you misunderstood something. We’re all very excited to have you back. I know Christine and I were thrilled when Holden called to tell us you were going to stay with him for a bit while you looked for a job.”
Knowing Holden had lied to his best friend to protect me—and him, too—made my chest constrict. Sure, he wouldn’t risk telling Matthew the real reason I was living with him, but he didn’t have to elaborate and offer extended fabricated pieces of information to make me look better.