Parker
Everything was literally fine, I'm still so lost on how she made a catastrophe out of fucking nothing. I was literally behaving like a civilized human being, even more than that- like those weird kids in those Mormon families you see in those cursed movies. I didn't say anything wrong, was quiet, and spoke when spoken to. She just had to let her excessively rude thoughts out like it was some sort of compulsion. It was obvious her intent was to hurt me. She was good at hitting those sore spots that she learned over the years. I didn't even care what she thought at this point... but she wasn't mature enough to keep her mouth shut for an evening? I never understood her weird obsession with my appearance. More like her weird obsession to destroy any ounce of self esteem I had left- if any.
My cheeks were wet from tears, and I tried wiping my eyes so I could focus better on the road. I didn't like that I cried when I was angry. Of course, I was a little hurt too. Hearing those words from anyone, let alone from your own mother was bad enough as is. But again, I shouldn't be shocked at this point. It wasn't like I haven't been listening to this my whole life. I made a mental note to block her number when I get home. It seems like this is the 20th time I will block her yet again, after I shamefully unblocked her. Somehow I always ended up feeling guilty. It was a vicious cycle and I needed to quit. When I pulled up to the apartment building, I realized I wasn't even there for an hour. I beat my Christmas record.
I tried to get my breathing under control but it just got worse and suddenly, I was hyperventilating in my car. I didn't wanna barge through the apartment like this, but I couldn't sit out here, I was dying in this scorching heat. I think the hot car was making me feel even more suffocated. I got out and made my way inside, choked sobs making their way up my throat every few seconds. The crying, the breathing- fuck, the sting in my cheek wasn't so pleasant either. I just was out of control and I didn't know how to stop it. I unlocked the apartment door, and covered my mouth with my free hand praying Maverick was in his bedroom. But no. He was sitting on the couch, same as when I left half laying down watching a show. I shut the door and that's when he looks over at me. Fuck. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
I angrily yank my shoes off and drop them on the boot mat. He's just looking at me, but suddenly he's rising from his spot on the couch. He's talking but I can't register what he's even saying. I begin to dart towards my bedroom, simply just wanting to bury myself in bed. But he's suddenly in my way and I bump into his chest. "Sorry." I whisper between the sobs. I wipe my hands down my face roughly, probably making it look even worse.
"What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?" His hands are suddenly on my upper arms, and he's inspecting every inch of me. Another sob raked through my chest. I look forward, too afraid to look up at his face. I'm level with his chest. His shoulders were wide under his loose t-shirt. It had a little VANS logo on the right chest. I think I have this exact shirt, this was good to distract myself with nonsense, focusing on these stupid little details. I probably looked like a disaster right now. When I cried my face turned an unholy shade of red and my nose resembled a faucet.
"I'm not hurt." I rasp out. "I fucking hate my mom." Suddenly his large hands moved from my arms and cupped my jaw, tilting my head up so he could get a good look at me. It dawned on me how close in proximity we were. I chewed the inside of my cheek so hard it began hurting. I tasted blood, but didn't mind that. His dark eyes were searching mine. I felt my heart slow, and my breathing was slowly regulating. I don't think I've ever been held like this, it felt surreal. I've hugged my family and that one high school boyfriend. I didn't have actual intimate contact like this and fuck, did it ever feel good. I felt lost in the surrealism of it all. My head was spinning, now these comforting feelings mixed in with the shit storm I just came from. I felt dizzy.
Maverick's concerned face caught me. The last few weeks he seemed miles away from me though we were only inches apart. Now, he was cradling my face. Further in his eyes, he looked ready to fight someone. Not me, per say, but the danger. I can't imagine what was running through his mind. He looked like he wanted to rip the hurt away and chokeslam it into the ground. The one word I could describe him in this moment was protective. A close second, obvious concern.
Suddenly, his hands leave my face and I feel bare. But his arm goes around my shoulders and guides me to the couch. He sits me down and removes himself from me, but he faces me sideways, his knee bumped against mine. He didn't move to the other end of the couch like usual. I sink backwards into the couch, trying to gather any thoughts to say something. Fucking anything. He's patiently waiting, not pushing which I appreciate but I almost want him to in a way. But the fact that he's still sitting here makes me think he'll listen if I say something. I sat up suddenly, placing my elbows on my thighs and clasping my hands together. I hadn't realized they were still shaking, and if they had been this entire time. I felt like I was on some sort of trip and I was slowly coming down.
He gets up suddenly and returns with a glass of water. I nod at him and take it, gulping half down. My throat feels raw from crying. I think I was screaming as I drove but I wasn't sure. "It honestly wasn't as bad as it looks, really. But I think years after being berated and shoved around by her, it just all boiled over. I don't see her as often so all the emotions and shit she throws my way piles up." I pause and set the water on the coffee table. "Has over the last two ish years I'd say."
"Want to go through what happened?" He wonders. I shrug, but nod. I guess so.
"It was okay until supper. Will- my oldest brother- mentions I moved out. She goes on about responsibility and how I can't handle it. So fucking awkward, it's in front of her boyfriend, who by the way she cheated on my dad with. Anyways, his dumb fucking kids and my brothers are there. The silence was killing me. So I just go bring a plate to the kitchen and she follows me." I sigh loudly, words stinging me like needles. I recount the conversation with my mother, how she was criticizing my appearance and saying I had ruined everything when I just sat there. "She slaps me-"
"What the fuck, Parker." He almost yells, his hand reaching to brush my cheek that stung and I assume it was more red than the other. He retracts his hand before it makes contact. I looked over to see his hand was shaking. His facial expression was angry. I reach my hand and place it on his, making him relax. His eyes wouldn't leave me.
"It's okay. I was just so confused how she started all this over literally nothing. I was actually just sitting there normally, listening to conversation, spoken when spoken to. I think she has an undiagnosed personality disorder, and I'm not saying that loosely." I carry on, almost losing my place. I recount the rest of the conversation then mention I just left. "I know it doesn't seem that bad to warrant my reaction but... I just remember when I turned around 10 she just had it out for me." My mind reels over every story, fight, argument, insult she's thrown at me my whole life.
He shakes his head. His piercing eyes were starting to freak me out a little. I see my hand still on his so I pull it back, and I rub my cheeks profusely. One second I think the crying is done but then it just starts. I guess that's what happens when it's been a while since last time.
"Nah I get your frustrations. It's not an overreaction. That's how I feel about my uh, dad." My mind trails off to when he came home slamming doors and shit. I nod in understanding. "Just one little thing after another and it snowballs and then it all fucking explodes. I've had my fair share of that. My dad sounds like your mom- a bully."
I was surprised at the fact he was sharing personal details with me, and it honestly kept my mind from her, in a way. It felt good when you could find someone you relate to in some way or another. Even if it was relating to shitty circumstances such as these. It's never great to have a parent, someone who is supposed to be a lover and a provider, to treat you like dirt. I obviously knew what my mothers issues were but I never understood why she chose to take it out on me everytime. I glance back at him, and nod, showing him I understood.
"Nothing is never enough, even if it's your best." I chide. A grimace graced my lips. My chest was no longer on fire from the hyperventilating, and I felt the comedown of it all.
"That's fuckin' right." He whispers.
I lean back yet again and shut my eyes. The tears still trickled down my cheeks, but I felt relieved a lot because my emotions were relaxing. I needed that, where you just let everything out. I banged on my steering wheel, screaming 'fuck' over and over. at the moment I had the urge to break something. I remember once I was so fucking livid with my mother I went out onto the street and smashed a snow globe she got me the previous Christmas. It felt so good.
"One time in high school.. Well okay. There were a few girls that would kinda make dumb comments or try to make fun of me. I didn't really pay much attention to it, cause like there were so many rumors going around about them, they were just insecure, trying to get the attention off themselves." My hands began to feel tingly. "Anyways, one day one of them called me a dyke and I fucking shoved her against a locker and threw her to the ground. I was just over it. Get that shit at home, so at school I was just like fuck that. I didn't want to hit my own mom. I ended up getting suspended for a week. I walked home and just kinda waited to get ripped to shreds by my mom for getting suspended, cause obviously they called her and my dad. As I'm awaiting my fucking death, I'm thinking about what I could say to like... lessen the blow. Any excuse for fighting, whether to be honest or lie. I drove myself a little crazy." I was doing the hand mash thing again, slightly regretting starting this story. I felt like I was such a bad storyteller, so messy and all over the place. But I couldn't just stop there. It was going somewhere I swear.
"I fell asleep and I woke up obviously to my mom bursting into my room raging. So I explained my version of it, cause I don't know what the principal told her. Cause I remember the girl I hurt was trying to lie to the Principal and shit, and I'm like 90% sure they believed her over me. She had them all wrapped around her finger. So I'm like begging her to listen, talking over her saying they called me a dyke and whatever. My mom stops her yelling, pauses, looks at me and fucking says 'Well do you blame her? Look at yourself' I think that's when I lost any hope I had of ever having a normal mother-daughter relationship with her. That was the moment for me, I guess, when I slowly started losing hope."
My eyes blankly stared at the ground, realizing that I hadn't thought about that one in a while. It kind of felt good to get off my chest, but brought back the painful memory of it all. It swallowed me whole for weeks. I barely could say a word to her. When she was home I hid away in my room. I was being bullied and she essentially reiterated it. But again, she was the biggest of them all. I dare to look over at Maverick and his face is an angry red color. His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles pale white. It looked like the skin was about to tear open.
"I'm sorry I literally am still processing that. What a fucking bitch- sorry but-"
I stopped him. "Oh no I agree. Don't say sorry. She's an evil fucking bitch."
"My dad liked to say shit to us as well. Sometimes he got physical though, only with me though. He'd grab my arm pretty roughly, or smack me upside of the head. When I grew up a bit, and became bigger than him, he tried that shit and I grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. I almost hit him but I just ditched the house for a few days. He never did it again." He says it like it's some sort of nostalgic memory. Maybe he liked that he scared him so badly. But I'm with him, gotta fight back. I've said some pretty nasty shit to her. Telling her to go fuck herself today was refreshing. At least my mom didn't hit me often. Today was a very rare occurrence. And even then, it wasn't too much. She's never actually hurt me badly. I appreciated him telling me that. I sort of spilled my guts, and it was nice to get even a sliver of that in return. Who knew the thing Maverick and I would 'bond' over would be our shitty parents?
"Good for you, fuck that shit man. I can't believe parents treat kids this way... Treat us this way. They're supposed to protect us from the bad stuff, not bring it upon us." Maverick shakes his head, but I could tell it's because he's in agreement with me. He looks over at me and the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. I felt like our dynamic had drastically shifted- even since Friday when he began talking to me regularly.
And right now, I somehow felt more at home than ever.