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Mom ignores him. “You watch your fucking mouth, Harlow.”
Beside me, Jace slices into his lasagna, takes the first bite out ofeveryone, while Dad slams a fist on the table and stands, booming, “You said you’d stop with this shit!”
“Thisshit?” I ask, my stomach dropping as I look between my parents. “There were others?”
“Yes,” Dad answers, his hands fists at his side.
“And you knew?”
“Yes!”
I stand too, unable to sit still. Unable to think straight. “You knew?!” I don’t want to yell at my dad. I really don’t. But, “The entire time, you knew the type of person she was, and you let her treat me the way she does…” I hate that I cry. “You knew the things she said about me,tome, and you never once thought to throw any of that in her face?”
Dad’s shoulders drop immediately, his eyes meeting mine across the room. “Harlow, it’s not that simple.”
Mom asks, “Is this why you asked me to come over? So you could embarrass me in front of your boyfriend?” She leans forward, elbows on the table, and speaks directly to Jace, who’s still calmly eating his food. “You know about her past, right? About all the guys she’s been with? About how she broke up a marriage?”
I laugh once, almost deranged. “Do you realize how fucked up you sound right now? You’re breaking up your own marriage, and you don’t even care!”
“Oh, shut up, Harlow!” Mom gets up and leaves the room, saying over her shoulder, “I’m so sick of hearing you cry! Wahh wahh wahh, life’s so hard.”
I follow her, my blood boiling. “For years, you’ve done nothing but make me feel like a piece of shit. Not worthy of the air I fucking breathe, and all this time… you’ve been a thousand times worse! You call me a whore? Look in the fucking mirror!”
She turns so quickly, I don’t have time to block the open palm to my face.
I charge at her, but familiar arms wrap around my waist, holding me back.
“What iswrongwith you, Marcie?” Dad booms from beside me, his hand on my shoulder. “That’s your fucking daughter!”
“Look at you, always protecting your perfect little Harlow!” Mom laughs, irrational and sinister. “She’s not even yours!”
I still, my heart plummeting, and Jace holds me to him, my back to his chest. I look up at my father, his face red, eyes redder. Jaw tense, he seethes, “Shut your mouth, Marcie. Right now.”
“Dad?” I cry.
“You don’t know that,” he says, but he’s speaking to her.
“Yes, I do,” Mom scoffs.
“You swore you’d never find out.”
I’m sobbing now, unable to comprehend the words they’re sharing. “Dad!”
But Mom—she takes the dagger, aims right for my heart, andtwists. “I took samples of your hair and had it sent away for testing. She’s not yours, Shawn. She never was!”
I can barely make out my dad through the tears blurring my vision, but I know he doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t say saying. Not even to deny it.
“Dad?” I cry again, and I can feel Jace’s hot breath against my shoulder as he tightens his hold, trying to comfort me.
“And you know what, Harlow?” Mom continues, and I hate that I look at her. Hate that I see so much of myself inher.“You were right. I wish it were you who had died. Better yet, I wish you were never born!”
My heart stops there, at the junction between truth and lies. Jace speaks for the first time since we left the kitchen, his voice soft, quiet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, shut up, Jace!” Mom scoffs. “You belong in the fucking gutter, right next to your alcoholic grandpa!”
Red.
It’s all I see.