All Too Well ⏤ Tim Shepard | ✓

CHAPTER NINE

content warning: descriptions of gore and injuries sustained from violence

Her mother is sitting at the kitchen table when Becca shuffles out of her bedroom the next morning. Geraldine looks over the newspaper, face blank. Becca is on edge, wondering why the hell her mother is here in their apartment instead of at the hospital.

"Aren't ya supposed to be at work?"

"I took the day off." Geraldine closes the newspaper, placing it down carefully on the table. "We need to talk."

"Why'd you do that for?" Becca is in disbelief. "We ain't rolling in cash, we need all the money we can get!"

"You don't think I know that? I don't need my daughter lecturin' me on our finances." There's a crease between Becca's mother's eyebrows. She sighs, collecting herself. "I didn't take the day off to argue. I wanted for us to talk. Properly."

Becca looks away. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Talking is always a good idea. Otherwise how else would problems get solved?"

Becca doesn't like solving her problems. She prefers to bury her head in the sand and pretend her problems don't exist. It's why she still hasn't acknowledged being stuck between George and Tim, pretending nothing is happening.

Becca sighs. "Alright." Inside, she is dreading this conversation. This is going to end up in another argument or her mother will end up in tears when she realises how much Becca resents her father.

Geraldine pats to the empty chair. "Sit down. I'm gonna let you talk and not cut you off. I'll only talk when you have finished. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fine. I will let you talk too." Becca sits down, hands clasped nervously. She doesn't know how to start.

"It's alright, sweetheart, I won't judge ya," Her mother encourages.

You can't promise that. You don't even know what I'm gonna say. Becca silences that voice in her head and begins speaking. "I don't feel the same way about Dad comin' home like you do." She figures that is the best way to start before she uncovers the feelings she has painted over and over to hide them. "I... I still feel so angry about what he did. It's been ten years since he was thrown in the cooler but I'm still angry at him just like I was when he was arrested by the fuzz."

Becca pauses, watching her mother's expression carefully. Her mother is concealing her emotions; her face blank and Becca can't get a read on how she's truly feeling.

Becca continues speaking. "I can't get over what he did to that man." There's a lump in Becca's throat and she swallows it down. "He beat him so badly he almost died. And he just left him there. Just. Just like those boys did to Tommy." Tears form in her eyes and she wipes them. "And then Tommy died. And all I could think 'bout was how Dad was supposed to be there with us, not locked in a cell. He should've been there at Tommy's funeral. He shouldn't have let ya work extra shifts and more than one job to keep a roof over our head. Tommy shouldn't have had to choose not to go to college to stay and help the family. Dad had responsibilities that he failed! He failed and we were supposed to pick up the pieces. It's not fair!"

Becca stops, putting her head in her hands. When she looks up, a tear slips down her mother's cheek. She reaches out and places her hand over Becca's, squeezing it. "I'm sorry you felt like you could never tell me all this, baby."

Becca shakes her head, wiping at her eyes with her other hand. "It's not your fault. I never say how I'm feeling. Ask the girls, they'll tell ya."

It's a cheap attempt at a joke but it works as Becca and her mother laugh.