Page 20 of Until Ace

At first glance, we look like an average happy family, always smiling and never fighting beyond the normal childhood way. But just one scratch of the surface would bring out stuff that would raise more than a few eyebrows. A deep-dive into our day-to-day life would make anyone run away screaming.

A controlling mom, a wimp of a dad, and three screwed-up kids, each in their own way. And yes, I’m counting myself in it.

The walk up the path feels like it’s a thousand miles long. My legs are shaking, my knees threatening to buckle with each step.

Fucking hell, what is happening to me?

I don’t like coming around here, and whenever I do, I go through my mental pep talk to have the strength to survive another visit with my family and leave with my sanity intact.

This level of fear and nerves though? I’ve never experienced it before.

With every breath, I know something bad will happen.

The knots twisting in my stomach are basically yelling that something is about to change.

I’ve only had that particular feeling once in my life, and that was the day I finally screamed, Enough! and broke up with my ex when he brought home that other woman.

Standing in front of the door, I wipe my palms on my jeans and knock on the wood.

Too soon, the heavy door opens, and the older man standing in the doorway gives a small noncommittal smile as he stands aside and waves me inside.

“Mandy, sweetheart,” my dad mutters as I pass by him. He indicates the kitchen, and without another word, I go where I’m told.

If someone were standing here and could hear him, I'm sure all they would’ve heard is a sweet greeting. All I hear are empty words.

We used to be close, Dad and me. He was my rock. He was the parent I told everything to. Around the time I turned sixteen, all of that changed. I wish I could say we had a fight or something, but that wasn't the case. It's just that at sixteen, I had my first boyfriend, and I told my parents.

I learned the hard way not to keep secrets from them two years before, so I made sure I shared everything. My mom went nuts, claiming I was too young to date and was sure to wind up pregnant, ruining my future. That was also the time she started calling me a whore. Sure, that hurt, but not as much as the fact that my dad said nothing when he heard her say it. And not as much as how he stopped talking to me about anything except school and superficial stuff.

“So you finally came to see your mother.”

At her voice, I turn around and come face-to-face with my mom.

She’s sitting at the breakfast nook, with a coffee cup and an empty plate on the round table in front of her.

The moment I see her, I don't even think. I walk over to her and lean toward her to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Mom.”

I look at her.

She used to be larger than life and just as beautiful.

She’s had the same hairstyle, blonde hair cut into a sharp bob, for as long as I can remember.

Her eyes have always changed with her mood. If she was mellow, the blue in them was vivid. If she was emotional, they flashed with more green. But most of the time, they were like this, a mix of the two swirled colors.

Over time, the image of her changed in my eyes. A once-beauty became something almost ugly. And her larger-than-life persona became difficult and heavy. Suffocating.

God, my own mother is trying to wring the very last breath out of me and claim it for herself.

“I honestly don't understand. Will the crown fall from your head if you come to see your parents more often?” The question is only the second thing that comes out of her mouth to me today, and as ever, it's full of judgment.

I look at my dad, and he rolls his eyes slightly, but he stays silent.

“Well?” she demands when I don't reply.

“I was here just a few days ago, Mom,” I remind her. I don't say anything about the fact that of all her children, I'm the only one who comes to visit frequently, and we speak on the phone almost daily.

“No, you weren’t,” she dismisses my answer as if I said the sun is blue. “You haven’t been here in almost a month.”