Page 76 of The Breakaway

"Sharla, everything you told us . . . it was a long time ago. You've both changed since then."

My hands balled into fists at my sides. "It doesn't matter how long ago it was! It still happened, and nobody has ever acknowledged it. Nobody has ever apologized."

Her voice wavered. "I know, sweetheart. But it's not that simple. They're family."

I wanted to scream. To throw the phone across the room. Family. Of course. Why wouldn’t that take precedence over their own flesh-and-blood daughter?

"Why can't you tell him to leave?" The words tumbled out of me, hot and angry.

My mom's breath hitched. "Sharla, I can't just kick them out. It’s Christmas."

I drew in a shaky breath, my chest heaving. "I see." My voice was barely a whisper. "Well, I guess that tells me everything I need to know."

I moved to hang up the phone when I heard, “Sharla? There’s something I need to tell you.” I pursed my lips, placing the receiver back against my ear.

Mom cleared her throat. “We got a letter in the mail from the Alberta Heritage Fund. They awarded you eight hundred dollars.”

My mind went completely blank.

“It looks like it’s an academic award or something,” she continued. “I deposited it in your bank account this morning.”

“Oh.” The word escaped with a breath. “Thank you.” An academic award? I got good grades, but when had I been submitted for something like that?

“You’re welcome.” After a few moments of silence, she said, “I need to go get groceries.”

I forced my lips to move. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Love you, Shar.”

I hung up the receiver. I didn’t say it back. I knew I should’ve, but I couldn’t drag the words out. It didn't matter how long ago it had been. My parents still didn't get it. I knew they loved me. I knew they wanted what was best for me, but in that moment, it didn't feel like enough.

And eight hundred dollars? What kind of insane conversation did I just have?

I stared at the receiver, the dial tone echoing in my ears. My chest felt hollow, like I'd been carved out with a soup spoon. I leaned against the countertop, my legs shaking as the guilt set in.

I shouldn’t have lashed out.

I’d almost hung up on mymother,and I didn’t say “I love you.”

“What a bitch.”

My head snapped up. Rob stood on the other side of the island, his hair dishevelled. “That’s my mom you’re talking about.”

He walked to the cupboard. “Still stands.”

The corner of my mouth lifted. “You and my fifteen-year-old self would’ve gotten along.”

“Hmm. She sounds hot. Was she already a big Bryan Adams fan?”

I snorted, then turned so he wouldn’t see my flushed cheeks from his comment. I pulled a banana off the bunch.

Rob pulled out a bowl and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. "I'm sorry, by the way."

I frowned. "For what?"

Rob poured himself a bowl of Fruit Loops. "For eavesdropping."

I grabbed the milk for him and passed it across the counter. “Yeah. That was a dick move.”

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