The Plague of Popularity
Then To Leave.
I knew that was going sting, probably leave a mark too. My cheek was throbbing—since when did her hatred include physical abuse? Right, since I decided I wasn’t going to be her puppet anymore.
“What the hell were you thinking?! You think I won’t take everything you own away from you? If you weren’t so suddenly something your father became interested in you’d be on the streets by now.”
I just stood there, what could I say? She’d probably just slap me again. She raised her hand as if she were going to hit me once more when the front door swung open and there stood my father, holding flowers and a box. His smile dropped immediately as he took in the scene before him.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re home!”
My mother lowered her hand and rushed to his side. His eyes were locked on my red cheek as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Frankie what happened?”
I didn’t even glance at my mother; I knew she wouldn’t try anything now, not in front of my father.
“She slapped me.”
He removed himself from her arms as he stared at her in disbelief.
“Why?”
“Because I stopped being her perfect little puppet, I decided I wanted to start thinking for myself, start being who I want to be.”
I could ruin this family if I spoke the words that were egging to be let off the tip of my tongue. This new found popularity I’ve found from my father could become useful.
“Is this all because of money Linda? Is that what you wanted? You wanted to turn our child into a conniving bitch just like you?”
Her eyes went wide, mine did too—he knew.
“What, you thought I was too in love with you to notice, to care? You seem to forget that in a large house words carry a lot further and sometimes louder than you mean them to.”
I didn’t have to ruin this family—it had already been ruined.
“The only reason you’re still here is because of my son. You can go gather your things and go find one of your precious whores to stay with. You will not speak to Frankie, you will not see him, if I ever find out you’ve tried, you will go to court and I will win.”
She was smiling—smiling—at those words. She squared her shoulders and raised her head high before opening her mouth.
“I could ruin everything you have Frankie dear, everything you have with your two newest friends. Anthony, rot in hell for all I care.”
With that she just turned and walked out the font door—which had remained open. She got about halfway to her car when she realized she didn’t have her purse, which held her keys and the money from her father. My father slammed the door in her face and retreated into his study—not the homecoming he expected I’m sure.
I couldn’t move—my parents had just split up and I witnessed the whole thing. I should be ecstatic that she’s gone, but she’s still my mother. I could hear her low, pathetic begging to have her purse; I smirked. I went through her back, only taking out the check card that went to her father’s account and took her car key off the hook.
I opened the mail slot in the door; her eyes immediately came into view. I shoved them out and walked away before she could open her mouth to say anything. I walked straight to my room, closing the door behind me. I don’t know what to think or feel—even Pansy couldn’t fix me at the moment.
“What the hell were you thinking?! You think I won’t take everything you own away from you? If you weren’t so suddenly something your father became interested in you’d be on the streets by now.”
I just stood there, what could I say? She’d probably just slap me again. She raised her hand as if she were going to hit me once more when the front door swung open and there stood my father, holding flowers and a box. His smile dropped immediately as he took in the scene before him.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re home!”
My mother lowered her hand and rushed to his side. His eyes were locked on my red cheek as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Frankie what happened?”
I didn’t even glance at my mother; I knew she wouldn’t try anything now, not in front of my father.
“She slapped me.”
He removed himself from her arms as he stared at her in disbelief.
“Why?”
“Because I stopped being her perfect little puppet, I decided I wanted to start thinking for myself, start being who I want to be.”
I could ruin this family if I spoke the words that were egging to be let off the tip of my tongue. This new found popularity I’ve found from my father could become useful.
“Is this all because of money Linda? Is that what you wanted? You wanted to turn our child into a conniving bitch just like you?”
Her eyes went wide, mine did too—he knew.
“What, you thought I was too in love with you to notice, to care? You seem to forget that in a large house words carry a lot further and sometimes louder than you mean them to.”
I didn’t have to ruin this family—it had already been ruined.
“The only reason you’re still here is because of my son. You can go gather your things and go find one of your precious whores to stay with. You will not speak to Frankie, you will not see him, if I ever find out you’ve tried, you will go to court and I will win.”
She was smiling—smiling—at those words. She squared her shoulders and raised her head high before opening her mouth.
“I could ruin everything you have Frankie dear, everything you have with your two newest friends. Anthony, rot in hell for all I care.”
With that she just turned and walked out the font door—which had remained open. She got about halfway to her car when she realized she didn’t have her purse, which held her keys and the money from her father. My father slammed the door in her face and retreated into his study—not the homecoming he expected I’m sure.
I couldn’t move—my parents had just split up and I witnessed the whole thing. I should be ecstatic that she’s gone, but she’s still my mother. I could hear her low, pathetic begging to have her purse; I smirked. I went through her back, only taking out the check card that went to her father’s account and took her car key off the hook.
I opened the mail slot in the door; her eyes immediately came into view. I shoved them out and walked away before she could open her mouth to say anything. I walked straight to my room, closing the door behind me. I don’t know what to think or feel—even Pansy couldn’t fix me at the moment.