It's Thursday night when mom calls a family meeting. Dad and I both get back late from the office, and she calls one as soon as we step into the house.
Dad tells me to put my stuff down real quick, so I rush upstairs to put my bag down before going back to the kitchen. Collin and Cody are there already, so I'm the last person.
For the first time in a while, my anxiety spikes. I have no idea why mom is calling a family meeting. We haven't fought since the last time, and I've been going to work everyday with dad since then. I don't understand what problem she could possibly have with me.
The parents are sitting at the kitchen table, and the three of us are sitting at the island facing them.
"Some things have been brought to my attention from some of you," dad says. "And I feel like we need to talk about them as a family. I have been told about some behavioural issues that need to be addressed, and because of these behavioural issues, our family doesn't feel like a family right now." Dad looks at each of us. "We have an amazing family, and I love when we go do things together. I love the bond you all have with each other. Some people are born into a family, and they hate everybody. We are very fortunate to be born into this family, and I think we all enjoy each other's company. That's a good thing."
"And some people don't have families," mom cuts in, sounding the complete opposite as dad does. Venomous. "And to be honest with you, mommy and daddy don't really have a family either. Daddy doesn't have a daddy cause he died when he was a young kid. And then daddy's mommy is very sick. And then your grandmother—my mother—is a terrible person who doesn't want anything to do with us. And we are totally active, wanna be parents to you guys, and you just treat us like shit."
Dad talks again, back to gentle and understanding. "There's gonna be a day not too far away when you guys go to college, and you leave the house. But one of our goals in life is that you are able to go out into the world. You maybe get married, have a kid. Have a family. We want to have a table at Thanksgiving that seats thirty cause everyone comes home with their families. I've never had that. We think that's cool. Mom and I will buy an RV and drive around the country, doing weird things, and have a sign that we stick at campsites that has our names on it and come visit you guys.
"You have stuff here that— I got a newsletter from Josy's school, right? And every time I see that newsletter, it's probably the strongest connection that I feel with any family in the world, and they were not my family. They were not my blood family. A hard question for daddy at work is 'tell me about your family.' And I start telling them stories about Grandma Lucy, right? And Uncle Bob teaching me how to ride a motorcycle. Martha telling me how to sailboard. Sitting up on the hill, playing guitar. My graduation party was at Grandma Lucy's house. It's always kinda weird, but you guys have something. You have a blood relation and a home and this lineage that I would have killed for. I would still kill for. And mom has an opportunity to be a part of something, a tight knit lineage that goes all the way around the table."
Mom again. "Like a fun family. Like a happy family. I was part of a family. I still have a mom and dad, and I have a sister. But they're really pretty freakin miserable. They bitch and complain all the time. I don't want that. I want happy. I want fun. I want adventure. I want things to do. I want a family. We have a desire to have a family. You know what my mom did? She had a desire to raise me, and then the minute I got married, she never wanted to speak with me again. That is not our intention either. You have this beautiful family that wants to be a family, and you guys are just like 'fuck it. We don't care. We don't even like it. We don't want it. We don't wanna be a part of it.' And that is your choice. Because we've already had one child leave the family, and that's his choice. And you all have that same choice. We will give you the dignity, the space, and the respect to do that. But while you live here, I just need a different attitude. I need an attitude of 'you know what? This is a great place to live. I appreciate your love and your concern, your desire. And you're providing me with things and stuff and experiences. And the fact that you're married and even want to be in my life—"
I can tell she's getting heated.
She continues, "My parents are divorced! His dad died when he was younger than Collin, and then his sister died, an eighteen-year-old sister, died when he was younger than Collin. And you guys have all of this stuff, and you're just like 'this fucking sucks.' It blows our minds, baby. It blows our minds." She looks directly at me and continues, "And you don't have to know what it's like, but you have to have a halfway freakin decent attitude towards the two people who love you more than anybody else in this world. And you treat me like shit. You speak to me like shit."
Dad steps in. "And if you think mom won't have it— Mom keeps me from chewing up your asses. Cause I have zero patience. Nobody messes with mom. Or I'll bust your ass. Got it?"
Mom says, "Wake up in the morning with a smile on your face at a decent hour, and when somebody speaks to you, speak back like you're happy to be alive and you're happy to be in this beautiful half million dollar home. In this beautiful city. In this beautiful opportunity. With a car and a phone and a roof over your head and— The world is your oyster, and you wake up everyday fucking pissed off to no end. Every. Day," she spits out. "That has got to be a shitty life." She pauses. "So wake up in the morning and choose to be alive. To be happy. And to be grateful and to be a part of a family. Who loves you."
"Like as close as you are—" dad starts.
"And who does not tolerate anymore shit from either one of you," mom finishes.
"When I was your age, I didn't have that," dad says. "My mother tells stories about breaking paddles on my ass and thinks it's funny. There's no back hands for you guys. There's no disrespect. Smacking your children because you can't communicate with them is ignorant and disrespectful. We don't do that. Are we on the same page? Does everyone understand unacceptable behaviour and what that is? Because now you're being held to a standard." He points to each of us and makes us nod our heads.
Mom speaks. "Mommy and daddy don't need to come back from adventuring in the morning—we're not waking you up, we're letting you sleep in—we come back at eleven or twelve o'clock, and we're like," she sighs. "'We have to drag the kids out of bed and put up with their attitudes.' We're not going to do that. Eleven or twelve o'clock, your ass needs to be out of bed, and you need to have a smile on your face, so when we walk in the door, you can say 'good morning, mom and dad.'" She looks directly at me again, and I can tell what she's going to say is about that morning. "Ignoring me is not fun for me. It doesn't make me feel good when my own child won't give me the time of day."
Dad cuts in, "Your mother saves your asses from me just smacking the shit out of it." He pauses. "Do not disrespect your mother in front of me again." He pauses again. "Cause she is much nicer than me."
"You come home, and you're a flaming bitch," mom says towards me. "Why is that?"
I shrug, not knowing what she wants me to do or say.
"If this place, for you, is the bane of your existence, and it is the epitome and the epicenter of your misery, there are six doors. Find one of them." She leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. "I expect not to be talked to with a tone or an attitude. Cause we're your family. We're the humans that gave birth to you. We're the humans that love you. And everything I just said to him," she points at Collin, "you need to be listening loud and clear."
He nods.
"Good." She seems to calm down for a minute before remembering what the next topic is. Then that fury is back, and she leans forward again. "Cody has come to me telling me that the two of you never allow him to hang out with you. A family sticks together. We do not exclude your brother because it makes him sad to be left out." She points at me with fury in her eyes. "You haven't changed at all. I sent you away to that place, so you would get out of your room, make some friends, and be happy. But you're the same miserable human being you were when you left. I was enjoying myself without your presence around me. If I didn't know Orion was a liar and a waste of money, I would send you back in a heartbeat. But that man is just as disappointing and pathetic as you."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask without thinking.
Mom freezes and looks at me. I can tell she's surprised by me talking.
I am too. I've never broken my own rules before.
"What did you just say to me?" she hisses.
The tension is like jelly. We just stare at each other, and I'm completely flabbergasted at what came out of her mouth. Every part of me wants to shut up and take whatever she yells at me. It's easier that way, the aftereffects not as harsh.
But I have to protect them.
"I asked what the fuck is wrong with you," I say finally, fed up with everything she's made up of. "Why are you so mean?" My heart races, but my voice is steady. "What have they ever done to you? Cause from where I'm standing, they're more of a family to me than you ever were."
"I am your mother."
My nerves turn into anger. What the fuck does that even mean?
"I have always wanted a family—" she continues. I open my mouth to say something but mom cuts me off, "You don't get to talk right now. You can shut up and listen."
"No," I say, grasping that anger inside me, forcing the needed words, and finally challenging her. "I'm going to talk because that's how a conversation works, and for once in my life, we're going to have one."
She's shocked. I can see it written all over her face. I don't know whether I feel shocked too or I'm too hyped up on adrenaline to notice. "Don't," I say as harshly as possible. "Don't ever talk bad about them. Especially because they wanted me when you didn't."
"I'll talk about them if I want to. I am the parent here. You listen to me. Not the other way around."
It is at the moment when something in me breaks, and I realize that she doesn't have any more power or control over me. I can do anything I want to do. All the anxiety and fear over the unknown, over the future, melts into thin air, and for the first time in a while, I feel drunk off of relief. I feel like I can breathe now and choose my own things in life, rather than walk along shards of glass and be terrified when she comes into the room.
I miss the carefreeness of Orion's house and the ability to be myself and grow into someone I am proud of. I miss the availability of finding myself without the restrictions set upon me by mom. I don't want to be the same person anymore—always afraid and closed off. I want to connect with people—with the others—and be able to feel loved without questioning it—without worrying that something I do may mean they don't love me anymore.
I want to feel on top of the world again.
And if that means hurting mom, then so be it. I'm tired of trying to be the better person and getting shit on for it. If that's how the good person gets treated, then I don't want to be the good person anymore. I'll be the villain in her story. I don't care anymore.
"You know what, mom? You call me depressed all of the time, but that's not true in the slightest. I am happy. I've been happy. Just never around you. Because you have given me no reason to be happy around you. I tell you something I'm happy about or love, and you bash me for it, telling me that I'm never gonna get friends if I like it or telling me that it's trash or using it against me to get your way.
"And I'm sick and tired of you treating me like some scum of the Earth. You wanna know why I never wanna leave my room? It's because that is the only place in this house where I can be myself. You spout all this nonsense about loving us no matter what, but then yell and belittle us when we don't fit into the perfect image of a family that you have in your head. You tell us to just 'be happy,' but why don't you take your own advice? You had your family years ago, but pushed everyone away when they didn't fit into your perfect little mold. Colt and I heard every nasty word you thought you said behind our backs. We know you don't actually love us. I know you hate how I read books all the time, the way I dress, how I act, and my view on the world. Nothing I do will ever be enough for you. You were so focused on the image of your perfect little family in your head that you neglected the imperfect family that you already had.
"And, I'm sorry, but so what you had a shitty childhood? So had lots of people, but they chose to make their lives better. How fucking dare you tell us to be grateful for you not beating us. That's the least you could do as parents. And, oh my god, wow. You feed and clothe us. Thank you for your contribution? If you can't handle the responsibilities of being parents, then why'd you become parents in the first place? You had to have known that we wouldn't stay babies all of the time. Surely you expected us to grow up and discover ourselves, right? Surely you expected us to not all be perfect children like you wanted?
"I know you think I hated you, mom, but in the beginning? I didn't hate you. I was going through shit, learning that the world wasn't all rainbows and sparkles like I grew up to believe. I needed you back then, but you pushed me away, so I had to learn everything by myself. And then you wonder why I never come to you for help anymore. You think we don't have a relationship because of me, but you were the adult who never once asked herself 'Why? Why do all of my kids hate me?'"
"How dare you speak to me like that," she cuts in, and I can see the signs of her anger, but I don't care anymore. It can't reach me.
Somewhere in my rant, I stood up, and I clench my hands into fists.
"This is my home, and I am your mother. I had to take care of your seven week early sorry ass, and this is the thanks I get? I birthed you. I took care of you."
"And so what? You did a shitty job of it. If you wanted a family so bad, maybe you should've respected us and let us decide for ourselves who we wanted to be. Instead of bullying and belittling us. You were surprised when Colton left, but I was surprised he stayed after what happened. You are his parents. You should've been there for him. To help him. Instead, you treated him like shit and celebrated when he left."
"I wanted a family," she spits. "Not a bitch as a son."
"And who do you think taught him to be one?"
"I did not teach my children to be bitches."
"And yet, in your eyes, you have three of them."
"Blythe, sit down," dad says, speaking for the first time since my rant started.
"No," I say, enjoying how easy the word comes out of my mouth. I smile and laugh, feeling like my old self that I missed so much and thought mom had killed. "I've missed this so much."
"Being a bitch?" mom snaps.
I look at mom, and I feel powerful. "No. Fighting back. I'm tired of you yelling at me and being afraid all the time and being so fucking alone." For years, I've let mom do whatever she's wanted because I couldn't do anything without fearing punishment. But now, I feel like the giant anvil hanging over my head is gone. I feel free for the first time in forever, and it feels amazing.
She stands up. "Get out!" she screams. "Get out of my fucking house, and don't ever come back."
I take a deep breath, and for once, I feel a little nervous. Whenever she kicked us out before, I never actually debated doing it. Now, I have only one doubt. I look at Collin, the only one keeping me here.
He nods his head with a half smile. He understands.
"Do you remember two years ago when you left emancipation papers on my desk when I got home from school one day?" I ask mom.
"I never did that."
"You kicked us out."
"I never kicked you out."
I sigh and nod. I guess I'm never going to get an apology, but I never actually expected to get one. I know my mother. "Okay." I shrug. Then I leave the kitchen to go pack my stuff. I'm barely unpacked from before, so I'm downstairs in ten minutes. Everyone else is in their same places. I hand Collin a slip of paper with my number on it. "For whenever," I say. I nod at my dad who's face never changes, and I open the door.
"Bye, Rose," I hear.
I look over my shoulder at Cody, and all I see is another child born of abuse. I can't blame him for how he acted. He needed to do what he thought he needed to survive. "Bye, Jack."
"You're just like your brother," my mom says, trying to get a last jab in.
"And you're like your mother," I say and close the door behind me.
I have another two uploads for you guys today. Why? Because I can.