Though I try to sneak into my house through the side door, Mom is waiting for me. Barbie’s tanned face is stuck on paranoid bitch. Her blue eyes flare with irritation. Her blonde hair is wild, even pulled into a ponytail. Despite her natural beauty, she looks crazy right now. Since my mother is of average height, she often gets on her tiptoes to intimidate people. I never understand why she thinks that’ll work with me, even if I wasn’t six three.
“Did you know?” she demands, placing her hands on her hips.
“I suspected. Didn’t you?”
“Never.”
“Did you really think Monroe found Lowell hotter than me?” I ask, turning around for her inspection. “All this hot young delicious goodness versus that old guy with the beard.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Mom says, settling down a little as my logic takes hold. “But, weeks ago, Bronco did make a strong case for her wanting a sugar daddy.”
“Well, he was wrong.”
Barbie narrows her eyes. “I don’t like it.”
“You claim Bronco’s wrong all the time,” I say, messing with her wild hair.
“No, I don’t trust this girl. She’s dangerous.”
“Do you remember her mother, Needy Hobbs?”
“I don’t keep track of the bunny hos.”
Walking to the fridge, I grab a root beer. “Technically, wasn’t that your job before Jena took over two years ago?”
“Not back when Miss Lying Cunt’s mother was a bunny. Back then, I don’t know if anyone was in charge of them. They just did whatever.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe what you want,” she nearly hisses.
“Why are you upset?”
Shrugging, Mom struggles to answer. “I don’t like her.”
“Yeah, because I do. You’re afraid she’ll steal my heart, and you’ll end up alone.”
“I like being alone,” Mom mutters, taking away my drink before realizing she doesn’t know what she’s doing and hands it back. “That’s why I’m always pushing you to move out.”
“You’ve never pushed me once.”
“I do it subtly.”
Chuckling, I can’t imagine what Barbie envisions as her being subtle. “Well, the Monroe issue isn’t really your problem, then, is it?”
“She’s a whore.”
“All women are.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, waving off her chastity claim. “You got around plenty before Dad.”
“Who the hell told you that?”
“You did,” I say, sitting in our two-story family room with the wooden beam above. “Your whispering skills are awful. I can hear you from across the house.”
Mom flops onto the couch next to me. “What if she’s not Lowell’s? What if Bronco made another bastard girl? That’d make her blood to you.”
“I’m okay with that. If Monroe and I stick, we’ll adopt kids rather than birth inbred weirdos. I don’t know if she even wants babies, and I’m in no hurry. Plus, you’ve said more than once how being a grandmother doesn’t interest you.”
“No, not after Bambi’s shithead brat grandson. He called me fat the other day.”
“What did you call him?”
“Ugly,” she says and then grins. “Little fucker started it. I’m not standing down for a seven-year-old. He’s lucky I didn’t slug him.”
“You seem tense tonight,” I say, patting her hand. “Vibrator in the repair shop?”
Mom laughs hard at my question. “I’m going to miss you when you run off with that lying whore.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Like probably not as much as you expect, but ditching your ass will definitely give me the feels.”
“I raised you well,” she says and sighs. “If Monroe ain’t bullshitting about who knocked up her whore mother, then I guess she’ll need to be introduced around the Woodlands and moved out of the slut complex.”
“We’ll see. She seems to like living there.”
“That apartment is for whores.”
Nudging her as she sits too close and tries to fix my flawless hair, I say, “Jena hasn’t sucked any dicks in a year, but she still lives there.”
“I was under the impression she still agreed to backdoor action with Hoagie.”
“No, I just started that rumor to upset his old lady.”
“Good boy,” Mom says and pats my hand.
“So, do you really not remember Needy Hobbs?”
“I don’t care about those bitches’ names.”
“It’s a pretty unique name. I’d think you’d remember.”
“This was back when? Twenty-some years ago? I had a baby underfoot, and Bambi’s shithead kids were always around. Bronco needed tending to. I was busy.”
“Well, Bronco was in his early twenties, which is when a man most needs his sister’s guiding hand.”
Grinning, she playfully elbows my chest. “Smartass.”
“If Needy got pregnant twenty-two years ago, who would have scared her off if not Lowell?”
“Me or your aunt.”
“But you don’t remember Needy?”
Maybe sensing how she could have screwed Lowell out of knowing his kid, Mom shrugs. “I don’t remember a lot of shit.”
“What would you have threatened?”
“To make her disappear.”
“Did the men know you did that?”
“I can’t imagine they’d care.”
“But those were their kids.”
Mom rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically at my gullibility. “You saw Bronco welcoming Carina into his house and acting all happy to be a fucking dad. But Bronco didn’t jump for joy over Summer, and he was hoping Sidonie was Hoagie’s kid before they did the blood tests. Sure, he eventually got on board with playing daddy. But that shit wasn’t something those men wanted, especially if they were married.”
Unable to respond, I can imagine my mother scaring Needy out of Elko. Monroe’s life took a wrong turn, and my family is likely the reason.
“Don’t go sullen brat on me,” Mom mutters.
“If she’s Lowell’s daughter, he missed out on two decades of her in his life.”
“If he had that kid around, he might not have met Topanga or had Dunning. His life turned out fucking fine, Conor.”
“But her life didn’t.”
Mom waves off my comment and stares out the back doors to the dark night. “Spilled milk and all that shit. Don’t you always tell me not to obsess over stuff?”
I think to mention how I’m not the one suffering from a mental illness. Or how she only takes her pills because Bronco put his foot down when Lana and Carina were in danger. My mother is actually the bad guy in many people’s lives.
Of course, I don’t tell her that now. Barbie Parrish Jessup isn’t an easy woman to love, and I’m one of the few people who actually care. Kicking her ego won’t solve anything, anyway. She refuses to take responsibility for her bullshit. To this day, she thinks Bronco overreacted to her attack on Lana. No way will she feel guilty over assigning Monroe to a life of poverty and suffering. I don’t know my girl’s details yet, but there’s no way she grew up safe and happy. And that’s on Mom and Aunt Bambi.