Her eyes flared with anger. And a tiny bit of hatred. My mother held a lot of resentment in her soul, and her kids and husband had been wrapped up in that resentment for years. We’d held her back; stifled her life plans. Apparently. “How the hell did you come from me?” she demanded to know.
“That’s a really good fuckin’ question.”
“Kick!” Lina interjected, her eyes glaring at me.
Fuck, the fuckin’ swearwords.
I quickly glanced at the kids who were busy watching television. Thank fuck, they didn’t need to be involved in this shit. I turned back to my mother. “I don’t know how the hell any of your kids turned out okay after being subjected to your nastiness and bitchiness while we were growing up, but you did manage to screw Evie up, so there is that.”
Evie caught my attention when she took a step in my direction, a distraught look on her face. She found my eyes and whatever she saw there stopped her. “Kick . . .” she began, but I cut her off.
“No, Evie, she needs to hear this. So her husband screwed around on her and then took it one step further and slept with her best friend. It doesn’t give her the right to take that shit out on the kids in her life, one of them being you. Just because her husband slept with your mother doesn’t give her the fuckin’ right to label you . . . a fuckin’ innocent teenager in all that . . . a slut, and spread nasty rumours about you.” My heart pumped furiously in my chest as years of hurt and anger roared to the surface. I jabbed my finger at my mother. “That shit ain’t fuckin’ right!”
Jesus!
I began pacing in the small space I occupied, fully aware I was close to losing my shit completely. Evie and Lina stared at me in horror. None of this had ever been confronted. Our families had splintered apart after Evie’s sister died, and we’d shattered completely after Dad slept with Loretta six months later. As far as I was concerned, this conversation was about eighteen years too late.
“You’ve got no idea what I went through! What your father did to me!” my mother screamed at me, the vacant look in her eyes long gone, replaced with bitterness and pure hatred.
“I don’t give a shit what my father did to you! You should have been more concerned about your children but instead, I spent my whole life chasing your affection . . . chasing your love. You were more concerned with trying to make yourself look good so that people would think you were this amazing mother and amazing person when that was so damn far from the truth.”
She stared wildly at me, her chest heaving, and her face flushed with anger. “You’ve grown into an asshole, Kick. That club is obviously no good for you but that’s what you get for abandoning your family as soon as you could.”
Was she for fucking real?
Funny how someone’s memories of how something went down can be so wrong.
I jabbed my finger at her again, the adrenaline coursing through my veins needing an outlet, and a finger jab seemed like a much better option than the punch I wanted to throw. I’d never punch a woman, but the wall was looking more and more attractive. The kids were the only thing holding me back at this point. “I joined Storm because they were more of a family to me than you and Dad ever were,” I fumed. “You can’t abandon something that isn’t there in the first place. Dad was long gone, and you were never there. And I never fuckin’ abandoned Lina or Braden.”
The rage circling the room threatened to choke me.
I need to get out of here.
Without another glance at my mother, I turned and stalked out of the house. Once I’d made it to the footpath, I placed my hands behind my head to grip the back of my neck. “Fuck!” I roared into the air, pushing a chunk of pent up frustration out.
I paced the footpath for a few minutes until Mum came storming out of the house towards her car. “Don’t ever talk to me again, Kick. I don’t want anything to do with you ever again!” she yelled as she threw her bag in the car.
“Consider it done!” I thundered, and turned my back as she backed out of the driveway and sped off. “Fuck!” I yelled again, desperately trying to get the rage out that was trapped in my body.
Evie came running out of the house, towards me. I held my hand up, signalling for her to stop, to not come anywhere near me, because I couldn’t be sure of my actions at the moment.
She slowed her advance but didn’t stop, her eyes pleading with me to let her close.
To let her in.
“No, Evie, don’t come any closer!” I yelled, hating the words as they left my lips but unable to stop them from falling out. I needed to keep her safe and I wasn’t safe.
She didn’t fucking stop.
She came right up to me and a moment later, her hand landed on my arm. “Kick,” she said, her voice calm.
Full of love.
My mind flickered with a chaotic mess of thoughts.
So jumbled.
So confused.
I tried to claw through them but instead I was drowning in them.
I was drowning in my life.
A childhood of abandonment, an adolescence of hurt and grief, a life of regret.
Her arms circled me. “Kick,” she soothed me as she pulled me close.
Love.
Evie’s love clawed through the thoughts.
It pushed the pain aside as it reached for my heart.
For my soul.
Home.
Family.
Evie is my family.
I took a deep breath and put my arms around her. “Evie,” I whispered, “I love you.”