After I put away the photo albums (meaning I threw them back into the box and shoved it into the corner of my room), I went downstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs and watched as Mom let in a group of people. There were also some people I didn’t know who were sitting in the living room, chatting quietly. Riley was sitting with them, and she looked up. When she saw me there was a weird expression on her face I couldn’t read, as if she were sorry about something.
It was moments later I realized why she’d been wearing that expression.
Suddenly, there was a large woman standing in the middle of the living room. She gasped when she saw me.
“Claire, I didn’t realize you had house guests! I never would have asked if I’d known...” Mom shakes her head, walking over to join the lady.
“I don’t have house guests, Becky. That’s Teagon, remember?” She said my name slow and loud, so everyone could hear it. The lady eyed me for a moment before gasping again.
“Oh, child, child, child! Come down here, so I can see you! Oh!” She kept gasping as I walked down the stairs. I heard someone walking around behind me, and I saw Brielle at the corner of my eye, standing behind the wall so no one could see her. I flattened my hand at my side, my palm facing back to her, telling her to stop. This was our signal, back in the old house, when someone would be in our living room that we didn’t know. Dad would have people over sometimes. Business friends, nothing bad or anything. And Dad never drank, but these people did. He didn’t know this, so the people he trusted to stay with us while he went to do something were not trustworthy at all, really. I would go down to investigate while Brielle sat upstairs (back at home we had stairs that you could sit at the top of and not be seen by the whole house), waiting.
Obviously I was too slow for this large woman, because once I finally reached the bottom of the stairs she was in front of me, hands on my shoulder, practically shaking the life out of me. She eyed me suspiciously, as if I wouldn’t notice. She kept her voice high and sweet, though. Fake. That’s what she was.
She looked at me as if I were a cheap, hideous rag doll she wanted to throw outside and forget about. Maybe I was, though.
“Claire, this is Taylor? Where is Brianna? Where is the other one? I must see the other one.” Mom cleared her throat.
“Teagon.” She said. She sounded annoyed. “Teagon, Becky. And Brielle,” she paused, letting the name sink in. “is upstairs.” Barely seconds after Mom told her this was Becky shoving me aside and pounding up the stairs. I heard Brielle scramble up and take off down the hallway. I looked at Mom. Her mouth formed a line and her eyes narrowed at Becky. But only for a moment.
“This is Teagon, everyone.” She came over and stood beside me. I was slightly taller than her, so she didn’t have to bend over when she mumbled to me quietly, “The worst part is over.”
And she was right. The worst part was over. But in a way, it wasn’t. Because all night the only things I heard from the group that arrived with Becky were criticism and rude comments, mostly toward me and Brielle. But we ignored them.
Up until now.
We’re sitting at the table, ready to eat. Mark (I finally got to meet Riley’s family) was serving food he’d brought. I was sitting with Brielle on one side of me and Becky on the other. Riley was on the other side of Brielle.
Becky takes in a deep breath. “So, Tina,” she still hasn’t learned my name. I hear Mom sigh from across the table. “Why haven’t you been with your mother all these years? I may have bad eye sight, but I can assure you, with that color hair, I would’ve noticed you around here by now.” She chuckles. I stare at her in bewilderment. Who can be this rude?
“Becky...” Mom says slowly.
“I’ve been living with my father.” I tell her calmly, trying to collect myself, ignoring her comment.
“Well, that’s no way to be living. I mean, shouldn’t a young, growing girl such as yourself be living with your mother? You are a girl, after all.” She immediately takes a big bite of food as soon as Mark places it in front of her. I pick up my fork. She’s still chewing as she continues. “Why did you decide to come down here, after all those years? I can’t believe they let you live with your father. I’ve heard so many crude things about him. Such a terrible man.” I slam my fork on the table. Everyone jumps and stares at me, their voices fading.
I turn and stare at Becky. “You can say many things about my father, but you can never say that he was a bad man. You’ve got no room to talk, running your mouth nonstop about other people. I’ve heard nothing from you but complaints and rude comments since you got here. I don’t know you, and I barely know who you are. But to tell you the truth I really don’t care at this point. Someone who’s going to treat me and my sister this way doesn’t deserve to be known. You are a terrible woman, terrible. Don’t you ever say anything about my father again, you hear me? He was a great man, a wonderful man! You never even knew him!” At this point my eyes are watering. I get up, shoving my chair back in the process, and storm upstairs. After I make sure no one’s following me I slow down up the next flight of stairs to my room. There’s still silence downstairs.