it's just the same old thing.
" and it's not my fault your a bitch.."
I remember the end of that summer and that entire school year clearly. I was a senior at Addamson High School -the supplier of Stanton, Texas' high school football obsession- and just a baby in the big, bad world of life. It was on the last night of summer 2008 when one little slip up on my part started the snowball effect of my desire for freedom.
A light summer breeze was floating through my room, carrying the familiar sounds of the season with it. In the small town where everyone knew everyone in a sense, the crickets chirping and the owls hooting were only a few of the small town comforts that I tried to enjoy each summer night. However, even in the late hours of the night when I would stow myself away in my room surrounded by peach colored walls and scented candles, her cigarette smoke always seemed to snake its way through my doorway and around my walls until it constricted the scent of my candles and left me choking a bit. That night was no different, and after coughing for a moment my dark eyes wandered to the doorway where she was leaning, a nauseated look plastered across her aging face.
"What the hell have I told you about leaving that window open, Leona? Is it really that difficult for you to understand me when I say that those stupid crickets are getting on my last nerve?!" she spat, bringing the half burned stick of tobacco to her thin, red stained and wrinkling lips. I couldn't help but noticing how much older than her age she looked, with frizzed and graying hair to match her wrinkling skin. If I hadn't known her I'd never believe she was only 37, and even knowing her I had my troubles.
"Sorry, Helen." I muttered, getting up from my small bed to close the shutter windows. She just snorted from her place by the door.
"Sure, you're sorry. No," another puff. "but you will be, you little brat!" she snapped, rolling her pale eyes and closing them as she took the last, long inhale of her cigarette before dropping it on my carpet. Her pale eyes opened as she let her foot grind the cigarette into my carpet. I watched, standing awkwardly by the window and tugging at the bottom of my t-shirt that covered my shorts.
She was right. I wasn't sorry, but I'd never say that to her out loud. Unfortunately, I went too long without saying anything out loud and that sent Helen on one of her famous tirades.
"You know, you are so ungrateful. Really, you are. I mean, your drug addict of a mother runs off and leaves your poor daddy with a runt like you and then he meets me who is willing to love and nurture you and take care of both of you since he has to work and provide a life for you." I wasn't looking at her. "Leona, will you listen to me? This is exactly what I mean! How in the hell does your good for nothing father expect me to love a little tramp like you anyhow?" her thick, southern-bell like accent somehow made the words sound worse than they were and I found that I could feel the color red taking it's place in my cheeks. I'm sure it matched the red waves of my hair and contrasted well against my milky skin color.
"Stop it." I muttered, unsure of how I had actually gained the courage to say something to her. But it did stop the tirade for a moment, catching her off guard I'm sure.
"What did you just say to me, Leona?" she breathed maliciously.
"Stop it." I repeated, my knee's quaking a bit as I looked her in the face now. Her face grew as red as mine when she spoke again.
"You know what? I do not have to sit here and take sass from you!" Helen barked, a bit of a sinister grin taking form on her lips. She was trying to get a rise out of me.
"Then don't." I said simply, testing my boundaries for the first time. "No one said you had to come in here, Helen. You're more than welcome to go back to your own room."
That made her lose it. With quick steps she stalked into my room, around my bed until she was only centimeters away from my face.
"Don't for a minute think that you can sit there and mock me young lady! I run this house when your father is gone and I run you! I don't know where you got the nerve all of a sudden but let me tell you something little missy, you better lose it real quick." I noted mentally that her spit against my face was almost enough to make me puke. "It's not my damn fault that your good for nothing daddy can't handle you long enough to stay here more than two days at a time."
I don't know what possessed me to say it but when I uttered the beautiful words, "and it's not my fault you're a bitch." and felt that slap sting my right cheek, I couldn't help but smile. Call it strange but I felt a strong sense of change brewing that night and that made all the difference in the world to me.
Helen didn't say anything after she slapped me and I didn't mind the bruise that was already forming where her hand had made contact. My own fairytale version of the evil stepmother had finally just discovered that her obedient, quiet, timid little servant was tired of taking her -pardon my french here- shit. I only hoped I would keep that confidence and stand up to her more often, because things would be ten times worse at home if I didn't.
A light summer breeze was floating through my room, carrying the familiar sounds of the season with it. In the small town where everyone knew everyone in a sense, the crickets chirping and the owls hooting were only a few of the small town comforts that I tried to enjoy each summer night. However, even in the late hours of the night when I would stow myself away in my room surrounded by peach colored walls and scented candles, her cigarette smoke always seemed to snake its way through my doorway and around my walls until it constricted the scent of my candles and left me choking a bit. That night was no different, and after coughing for a moment my dark eyes wandered to the doorway where she was leaning, a nauseated look plastered across her aging face.
"What the hell have I told you about leaving that window open, Leona? Is it really that difficult for you to understand me when I say that those stupid crickets are getting on my last nerve?!" she spat, bringing the half burned stick of tobacco to her thin, red stained and wrinkling lips. I couldn't help but noticing how much older than her age she looked, with frizzed and graying hair to match her wrinkling skin. If I hadn't known her I'd never believe she was only 37, and even knowing her I had my troubles.
"Sorry, Helen." I muttered, getting up from my small bed to close the shutter windows. She just snorted from her place by the door.
"Sure, you're sorry. No," another puff. "but you will be, you little brat!" she snapped, rolling her pale eyes and closing them as she took the last, long inhale of her cigarette before dropping it on my carpet. Her pale eyes opened as she let her foot grind the cigarette into my carpet. I watched, standing awkwardly by the window and tugging at the bottom of my t-shirt that covered my shorts.
She was right. I wasn't sorry, but I'd never say that to her out loud. Unfortunately, I went too long without saying anything out loud and that sent Helen on one of her famous tirades.
"You know, you are so ungrateful. Really, you are. I mean, your drug addict of a mother runs off and leaves your poor daddy with a runt like you and then he meets me who is willing to love and nurture you and take care of both of you since he has to work and provide a life for you." I wasn't looking at her. "Leona, will you listen to me? This is exactly what I mean! How in the hell does your good for nothing father expect me to love a little tramp like you anyhow?" her thick, southern-bell like accent somehow made the words sound worse than they were and I found that I could feel the color red taking it's place in my cheeks. I'm sure it matched the red waves of my hair and contrasted well against my milky skin color.
"Stop it." I muttered, unsure of how I had actually gained the courage to say something to her. But it did stop the tirade for a moment, catching her off guard I'm sure.
"What did you just say to me, Leona?" she breathed maliciously.
"Stop it." I repeated, my knee's quaking a bit as I looked her in the face now. Her face grew as red as mine when she spoke again.
"You know what? I do not have to sit here and take sass from you!" Helen barked, a bit of a sinister grin taking form on her lips. She was trying to get a rise out of me.
"Then don't." I said simply, testing my boundaries for the first time. "No one said you had to come in here, Helen. You're more than welcome to go back to your own room."
That made her lose it. With quick steps she stalked into my room, around my bed until she was only centimeters away from my face.
"Don't for a minute think that you can sit there and mock me young lady! I run this house when your father is gone and I run you! I don't know where you got the nerve all of a sudden but let me tell you something little missy, you better lose it real quick." I noted mentally that her spit against my face was almost enough to make me puke. "It's not my damn fault that your good for nothing daddy can't handle you long enough to stay here more than two days at a time."
I don't know what possessed me to say it but when I uttered the beautiful words, "and it's not my fault you're a bitch." and felt that slap sting my right cheek, I couldn't help but smile. Call it strange but I felt a strong sense of change brewing that night and that made all the difference in the world to me.
Helen didn't say anything after she slapped me and I didn't mind the bruise that was already forming where her hand had made contact. My own fairytale version of the evil stepmother had finally just discovered that her obedient, quiet, timid little servant was tired of taking her -pardon my french here- shit. I only hoped I would keep that confidence and stand up to her more often, because things would be ten times worse at home if I didn't.
♠ ♠ ♠
alright, so this isn't great but I'm starting from scratch here and I kind of hope this gets somewhere good. I would love some feedback on this if anyone reads it. comments and subscriptions are welcomed and loved.Hope this wasn't too horrible!
xoxo Lola