Page 51 of Single Girl in the City
“This isn’t just the pregnancy. It’s everything.” Dotti was never good with confrontation so when her gaze skittered away, Abi braced herself for the impact. “Hank hates how he has to tiptoe around you in the morning while he gets ready for work. The kids have to be quiet until Auntie wakes up, and you come in at all hours.”
“I’m working three jobs.”
“That’s your choice and we both know it.”
Abi knew all too well why she was sleeping on her sister’s couch, busting her ass working three jobs to live in a city she couldn’t afford. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave—just like she couldn’t bring herself to tell Owen the truth.
“Have you even looked at the elementary school teacher job listing that I sent?” Dotti asked, and a sheer, black panic swept through Abi. She hadn’t felt this helpless or out of control of her life since she’d been a kid, her life revolving around other people’s priorities. She knew that for Dotti, her family would always be her number one, and that was how it should be. But for once, Abi wanted to know what it felt like to come first in someone’s eyes. “Please don’t do this, Dot.”
“What do you want me to do? You just up and moved, then showed up at my door.”
“Because I needed to be around people who love me,” she whispered painfully. All she’d ever wanted was to be around people who loved all of her. While she knew deep down that her parents loved her, it always felt as if love was on their terms. She never got to choose where she lived or how she spent her weekends. She was just shuttled back and forth.
“I do love you, but it makes things hard when Impulsive Abi takes over.” The comment cut deep. “You gave me less than a week’s notice, then showed up on my doorstep.”
“I didn’t think I had to give notice since that doorstep was formally also mine. As for Impulsive Abi, I’m not her anymore.” Okay, not all the way true, she sometimes found herself randomly scouring Voodoo Doughnut’s display case without prior or proper planning—bless her thighs—but she never bought more than a half dozen at one sitting. Impulsive Abi was a side of her that, when it came to the important stuff, she’d outgrown. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“No, the best you can would be to get an actual adult job. Oh, I don’t know, maybe teaching. You spent a fortune to go to school, use your degree.”
That lump jumped to her throat and constricted her airway. “You know why I can’t do that.”
Dotti might have lowered her voice, but the judgment was loud and clear. “I know that you think you can’t, but if you just reframe the way you think about things you could totally overcome this. I know you can. It’s like riding a bike. Remember when I dared you to do the big jump at the bike park and you went over the handlebars? You eventually got back on.”
“I didn’t skin my knee this time, Dot. I watched my best friend die.” The last word stuck in her throat as cold seeped through her shirt and into her chest.
“I know. And I know you’re hurting, but it’s been four months.”
“I’m sorry if I’m not grieving fast enough for you.” She hadn’t meant to say it so loud but that feeling of being cornered, stuck without an escape, was slowly tying itself around her neck.
“It’s more than grieving. It’s like you won’t let go and it’s affecting everyone around you.” Dotti softened her tone. “It feels real, but it’s your mind playing with you. I mean it’s just like when I was afraid of spiders. Hank wasn’t home to kill it and it was near Lemon-Marie so I squashed it and my fear.”
“This isn’t a spider. I suffered a trauma. A really bad trauma.” There. She’d said it. Aloud for other people to hear. Except the look on Dotti’s face said she didn’t care.
“Hank and I both agree. You need to find somewhere else to live.”
“I’ve been nice about everything because I know I’m hard to take in big doses, but it’s my house too, Dotti. Grandma left it to both of us. You can’t kick me out.”
She might have agreed to sleep on the couch so as not to encroach on Hank’s space, or to wake up at seven so that her niece can watch her morning shows. But she was done playing nice if Hank tried to kick her out of her own home.
“I spent more time here than you growing up. Every summer I came here to be with Mee-maw so she didn’t get lonely. You came, what? Every other summer and only when Mom made you,” Abi said.
“Maybe. But we’re not kids. There is a mortgage, bills, property tax, the new roof. Who pays for that? Me. You bailed and left for Alabama.”
“Because I was being squeezed out. Once Lemon was born and needed her own room, I was asked to move to the guest room, which then became Hank’s office and game room, and my only option was to take the living room couch. So I left and went to Mobile.”
Dottie took a big breath. “Koi is afraid to go to the bathroom at night, Abi. And Lemon? She’s slept the last four nights in bed with us because of your nightmares. The kids are scared to sleep in their own rooms.”
Shame and humiliation made a complicated knot in her stomach, pinching tightly until she knew she’d be sick. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dotti said gently. “But the kids deserve to feel safe in their own home.”
Once upon a time, it had been Abi’s home too—a place she felt fearless and free. Every summer, Abi would spend a month with her grandma. They’d go to Belle Mont House for a picnic near the pond and watch the geese chase tourists. They’d spend hours in the kitchen, Ruth teaching her how to make pie crust from scratch and her blue-ribbon apple butter.
Those had been some of the best times of Abi’s life. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see herself standing on a wooden chair in pigtails, pearls, and a too-big apron, with flour down her front, a whisk in her hand, and a sheer pleasure on her face.
Abi thought that coming back to the last place she’d felt happy and safe would free her from the nightmares, the panic attacks, and give her the power to slay her demons. But that hadn’t happened. If anything, the nightmares were coming more frequently and with more detail. She often awoke with Jenny on her mind.
While Mee-maw Ruth wouldn’t want Abi to leave, she also wouldn’t want her granddaughters to argue. That had been a stipulation of the will. If they couldn’t play nice, then they lost their toy—or in this case, the house would go to their cousins. Abi wanted it in the family more than she wanted it to be hers. Even if it meant she’d be a guest in her own home.
