Page 23 of Unraveling with You

I don’t meet Dad’s eyes, but I’ve memorized his body language enough to see his taut beer belly in my peripherals - a warning sign his patience is running out. I never know which minor insult will be the tipping point between his regular, stewing annoyance and a full-blown outburst, so the sight stiffens my shoulders.

Sitting on the bed’s end with my back to him, I smile at Mom. “I haven’t actually been up to much else. I made a new friend, but that’s it.”

Mom’s eyes brighten. “That’sit?That’s so exciting! You were just telling me it’d be nice to find more friends. It’s so hard to find more as a working adult, isn’t it? What’s her name?”

I giggle at Mom’s long string of thoughts. “He’s actually a guy. His name is Remington, and he’s my workout buddy at the gym.”

“Oh! How unexpected! That’s so great you’ve been able to get to the gym! I know how long you’ve been wanting to do that.”

But Dad straightens. “How are you affording it?”

My ribcage tenses. “My friend Gabby gave me a gift card—”

“Honey, she’s in her thirties. She can use her own money to take herself to the gym.” Mom snaps at Dad.

He clenches his jaw. “You think I like having to rely on our youngest daughter for rent?”

Mom gasps. “Joe!”

“What? It’s no secret.”

Mom scowls at Dad, ready to argue back, but I sit straighter. “And rent is almost due, I know, and I lost track of the days last week. I’m sorry to worry you. The envelope for this month is in my bag, by the door. I’ll get it for you in a minute.”

Dad stands. “I’ll get it myself.”

Rage simmers deep in my belly. My heart screams to chase after him, yell at him, rip my money from his hands - anything but continue to sit here like I have most of my life. But Mom’s shaking hand lands on my arm, reminding me I can’t. It’s not safe.

Dad takes care of everything alone. He’s generous and hardworking, but his patience will be tested beyond his limits if I don’t help them with rent. I’m afraid his temper tantrums will leak from just targeting me to also including Mom. What if he hurts her worse than he means to, like he’s done to me? Mom doesn’t have the youth or body I do. She might survive her disease despite suffering through it for the rest of her life, but if she sees what Dad’s really like when he gets angry, I’m afraid she could die from pure heartbreak.

“Ignore him. He’s just hurt that I gave him a hard time this morning,” Mom sighs. “Actually, Lilibeth, do you think you could help me to the bathroom? I think your dad accidentally forgot I asked thirty minutes ago.”

I can hardly school my fiery breath. “Thirty whole minutes ago? And he’s complaining about turning the TV off for you?”

She laughs. “Oh, Lily, it’s fine. He’s just an old, tired man.”

“It’snotfine,” I whisper.

“Okay, well, either way, I need to pee,” she laughs, and my shoulders soften. “And I rested a lot today. I might be able to stand just long enough to sit in the chair without him picking me up. I just need your help keeping steady.”

My stomach tenses. I open my mouth to speak, close it, then open it again, but the words won’t come out.

Mom’s whisper comes out desperate. “Lily, seriously, I need to go. Let’s try before he comes back. You know what they say - it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.” She laughs again, but I can’t even smile.

“Maybe I can give you and Dad a break soon. I’ve been working really hard at the gym. I think I can lift you now, Mom. ”

Mom freezes. Her placating smile is gone.

She glances at the open door over my shoulder. Her whisper softens even lower. “You really think you can?”

“Yes. Can I try?”

She waves me on. “Hurry, hurry.”

Scooping my arms beneath her emaciated torso and thighs, I breathe through my pounding, frantic heartbeat. I have to do this. Please, let me be able to finally do this.

But the second I have a good hold on her, we hear footsteps parading back down the hall.

Mom gasps. “Stop, stop, Lilibeth. He’ll be even more hurt–”

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