Page 81 of Storm in a D Cup

‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked.

‘I’d have married you even if you had been the hunchback of Notre Dame,’ I gushed, out of control. Which was true. After eight years, I was still under Julian’s spell.

*

Alongside my page that was going rather well, I steadily worked at my novel about an ugly duckling. Hell knew if I had enough material for it. I had been the ugly duckling all my life, battling year after year to get rid of my albatross of youth and experience my sexual awakening. But to think that my own daughter would in a few years be doing the same made me very uncomfortable. So, in an effort to establish a stronger tie between us, I had given it to her to read.

‘So what do you think about it so far, Maddy?’ I ventured, mostly to get an insight of her mind because lately she wasn’t talking much to me again. God knew what I had done to break the temporary spell.

She shrugged from her bed, eyeing the dresser where my manuscript lay, dog-eared and stained with the make-up she swore she never wore. ‘It’s OK, I guess.’

I struggled to keep my eyebrow down. ‘Oh, good, I’m glad. What do you think about Lisa?’

‘How the hell should I know? I can’t relate to her.’

Arrgh. Brutal. ‘Don’t you, uhm, think other girls might?’

‘Only losers,’ was her verdict.

‘So you can’t see any of your friends reading my book?’

Maddy sighed. ‘I’m not pimping your work for you, Mom.’

The blow was like a gunshot. ‘I never asked you to. Thank you.’

Wow. When had my only daughter become similar to Ira? I had done so much to keep my kids away from him and his horrible influence, but I hadn’t considered that, no matter what I did or where I took them, half of him was in them. How was I supposed to control that? My guess was, I couldn’t. All I could do was continue to be patient and constant with my motherly love, and maybe, perhaps one day, Maddy would ‘see’ me.

I took the manuscript off her dresser and went downstairs to the kitchen where Joey was making herself a sandwich. It was a joy to see she felt at home and even more of a joy to see her eat without me having to force-feed her.

‘Want one?’ she asked.

‘No, thanks, but I like what I see. You look so much better, Joey.’

She cut the sandwich into two and wiped her hands on a paper towel. ‘And I have you to thank. You took me into your home and made me better. I am really grateful to you, Erica…’

‘Stop,’ I said, welling up. ‘Anything you need – a chat, a hug – I’m here for you. We all are.’

She stopped, her eyes huge. ‘I wouldn’t actually mind a hug, if that’s OK?’

I grinned and opened my arms for her, and like a fragile fledgling, she flew into them. She was still so small, even with the weight gain. I’d have to have a doctor give her a check-up, just to make sure.

While my own kids were killing me, with each passing day, I literally fell more in love with Joey. Everything she did, everything she said, was cause of the deepest joy to me. Who knew I’d ever appreciate something Genie Stacie had created?

‘What’s that?’ she asked, eyeing the pile of sheets that used to be my masterpiece in progress.

‘Just a book I’m trying to write.’

‘Wow, really? Can I see it or is it off-limits?’ Joey asked, wiping her hands carefully.

I sat back and stretched. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s been through worse.’

Joey didn’t answer, already reading the first page.

I grinned. ‘It’s a YA. Nothing like Julian’s rubbish.’

She chuckled and continued to read. ‘Do you mind if I take it and finish it?’

‘Sure, absolutely.’

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