Page 75 of Ravaged
“He had a business trip and is out of town for the next couple of days.” She slides me a glance, and I have no idea what that’s about. Okay, fine, I can guess. “The engagement was a surprise, as was the party.”
“That young man should’ve come over here and asked for your hand in marriage from me first. What happened to that? Respect in your generation has been abandoned. That’s the reason we weren’t invited to that party, Monica,” Dad says, stabbing his fork at Zora even though he directs his comment to Mom. “He knew he was wrong and I would have something to say about it.”
Zora sits there, her usual placid, Sunday-dinner smile on her face, taking this verbal lashing because that’s what Zora does. Her MO since we were kids. Keeping the calm. The peacemaker. Although Cyrus has stepped into the breach lately, and Zora has retired most of the unwanted duties thrust upon her. But old habits die hard. If anyone knows that, it’s me.
It’s not fair.
My parents aren’t satisfied with the venom in their own relationship; they have to plant seeds in Zora’s. Suck her joy from her. And they don’t care. They don’t see. They neversee.
Levi sets down his fork, anger gleaming in his eyes. “It’s not enough that—”
“Maybe the reason Cyrus didn’t ask for her hand in marriage is because this isn’t the 1950s and she’s a grown woman perfectly capable of making the decision on her own of whether or not she wants to marry the man she loves. And maybe the reason he didn’t invite you to the party is because he wanted to give the woman he adores a happy evening with joy-filled memories and not one filled with resentment, bickering, and toxicity. Those are just my immediate thoughts.”
Silence permeates the room, and I swear, even the world beyond the house has gone quiet. Inside, that small voice in my head squeaks an “Oh shit!” and shuts the hell up.
Across the table, Levi stares at me, and for the first time, my older brother looks at me with something other than strained patience and confused affection, as if he has no idea what to do or make of me. Admiration brightens his gaze. And understanding. For the very first time in my twenty-seven years, I think my brother and I understand one another.
Zora, seated next to him, smiles at me and mouths, “Thank you.”
For not sinking away and disappearing.
For speaking up.
For defending her.
“Excuse me?” Shock and a looming anger deepen Mom’s voice. “Excuse me?”
“Did you really just speak to us like that, young lady?” Dad snaps, his fork clattering to his plate. “And at our own table?”
“You should’ve waited until we were in the living room, Miriam,” Levi, back to his usual sardonic self, adds.
“That’s enough out of you,” Dad thunders. Then, to me, he demands, “What has gotten into you to even dare talk to us like that?”
“I know what it is,” Mom mutters, throwing her napkin down beside her plate. “That business they’re all involved in. None of this ... behavior began until they started it. Especially you, Miriam.” She shoots me a look, and I’m not immune to the anger and hurt there. But I can’t allow it to dictate my life anymore either. “This isn’tyou.”
“Meaning it’s us,” Levi says to Zora.
“Levi,” my sister murmurs, though the corner of her mouth twitches.
“Actually, Mom, thisisme. I’m mouthy, no filter, a little offensive even when I don’t mean to be, and often a little unapologetic about it.” My voice shakes because,oh my God, I can’t stop talking. But it’s like adam has broken inside me, and everything I’ve held back out of fear of their rejection or hurting their feelings, out of insecurity, comes rushing out. “I’m also sensitive with a big heart, even if it’s bruised. I’m a good friend, sister, and daughter, though far from perfect. I’m more than my IQ. I like math, but I love art. I’m an artist.”
Just saying those three words aloud has a weight lifting off my chest, and I suck in a deep, cleansing, healing breath. And I smile. Big. I meet the gazes of every member of my family.
And I say it again just because it feels so wonderful and liberating.
“I’m an artist and author. And a damn good one. Just ask my publisher and my many readers since Ravaged Lands, my graphic novel series, are among the most-downloaded issues on their app—”
“I fucking love Ravaged Lands,” Levi says. “Especially Zadok. He’s a badass.”
Shock damn near knocks me back in the chair, and I stare at him, mouth hanging open.
“Levi! Language,” Mom yells. Oh yes, she’s just about reached her limit. And she proves it by pushing her chair back and shooting to her feet. “This is ridiculous. Art? Graphic novels? Since when, Miriam? And what next? God, I’m afraid to ask.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t know what’s next,” I say. She drops her arm and glares at me, but I don’t avoid the heat there, don’t duck my head. “But I’m not a child, and whatever choices I make are for me. If you approve, that’s nice. But if you don’t, that’s okay too. This is my life, Mom. And I can no longer allow my past to influence my future ...”
That includes my childhood.
And their marriage.
