Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 35.2

I dash to the table in the corner that holds Mom's antique writing box, raise it high above my head and throw it to the ground as hard as I can. A small piece of wood springs off the side and clatters on the floor. I pull open the drawer and grab the envelope. I rip out the letter and hold it to my mother's face.

"Dear Catherine," Iscream, not even reading from the page, "My accountants tell me that the cost of raising a child to eighteen years of age is approximately fifty thousand pounds. Converting from pounds sterling, supporting Rebecca for five years amounts to roughly twenty-seven thousand, seven hundred and seventy-seven Canadian dollars. I expect you do not have such a sum at your disposal, so I would like to meet you to discuss reparation. Sincerely, William."

Mom puts a hand to her face in shock. "How – how do you know about this?"

"Is that appropriate?" I shout. My voice breaks and my throat feels like it's been raked with sandpaper. I'm beyond hysterical. "Is that appropriate? Paying Bill twenty-seven thousand dollars he spent to help raise me? Where the fuck am I supposed to get twenty-seven thousand dollars? Rob a bank?"

Mom's face drains of all colour. "How did you find – "

"Who the fuck cares how I found it? I can't believe you would keep something like this around. Why didn't you tear this up and throw it in the trash? Is this a memento or something? Why don't you stand up to him?" Tears pour down my face.

Mom recovers almost immediately. "I did stand up to him, Rebecca. I would never expect you to pay that. I – "

"I know how you 'stood up to him', Mom. You think I don't know anything! I know everything." I throw the letter to the floor and it lands in the debris of the writing box. "What did you do?" I scream. "Lie back and think of England?"

Mom is ashen. "How do you know about – "

"I followed you, Mom. I didn't go to the mall. But instead of telling Bill to fuck the hell off, you – you – " My voice falters.

A single tear rolls down Mom's cheek.

"You just gave yourself to him," I shout. "You didn't try to stop him. You just offered yourself up to him on a platter." I know this isn't true, that Mom resisted, but it comes out anyway.

"I did not," says Mom. "How dare you speak to me this way? I sacrificed my– "

"'Sacrificed?'" I scream. "I've sacrificed everything for you. I've been a good kid. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't fool around with – "

Fuck it.

"Jesse," I shout. "J.J., Jesse James, Dr. J, the doctor is in. He wanted it and I wanted it and I got the chance and I took it. Get the picture, Mom? Your beautiful innocent daughter fucked Jesse James."

I stand in the middle of the room, staring at my mother. Billy Joel continues to play behind us. Kyle sits on the sofa, stunned. I can't believe what I just said.

Mom presses her fingers against her blouse. I think she's trying to massage her heart through her chest so it doesn't stop beating.

"So Mr. James – "

"Drop the formality, Mom, for God's sake. His name is Jesse."

"Jesse did nothing wrong, then," says Mom, trying to compose herself.

"No."

"So you lied."

"Yes."

"You lied in court."