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It’s one thing to have my past thrown in my face. To pretend that my pain isn’t real. I expect nothing less from any of them.

Asher? He deserves better.

He’s lived a life few people understand, and it’s also no one else’s business how he copes with it.

How dare she do this to him?

But why does he deserve better? I mean, I knowwhy, but why can’t I have a break, too? Is it because I set myself up just like this? To get the attention off Asher so he can relax? Have I done this to myself all along, and everyone else just fell in with it?

Daniella’s instant grab of the verbal baton says they have.

Why am I setting myself up for this?

Ideserve better. I don’t have to throw myself under a bus and apologize to it once it runs me over.

It’s like an epiphany that hits me all at once.

I don’t have to change anything about myself. I like myself as I am. I got rid of the blonde clone hairstyle, and this fits me a lot better. I did it because I thought I’d like it. Not for them, forme. That’s who I’m supposed to be focusing on. I lost sight of that as soon as I walked in the door.

I look at Maman and really see her for once. Face to face with her clueless viciousness. She has no idea what she just did or how it would affect Asher or anyone else. She just wanted to browbeat us all into submission so she’d have control. With the hate back on me, everyone else is safe. I’ve naturally fallen back into the role she wants me in.

Have I really let this hateful woman wear me down? Because she bears the title of Maman when she doesn’t deserve it from me?

I’m suddenly getting the itch to draw something. Maybe her hateful face on a trash can with a raccoon posed to kick it the hell over.

I haven’t had the urge to draw for months. Now, my fingers are tingling, remembering the feel of the tattoo gun in my hand and missing it with everything in me.

The surprise of it makes me want to run out and tell Poe. If nothing else comes from this dinner, I’m still winning something.

This is just what I needed to square up against them. My backbone has finally snapped into place.

“Apologize to your brother, girlie,” Maman continues while I bask in rebellious joy.

This is when I follow our script to the end and apologize for her accusations, just to get everyone calm again. But, I’m no longer hergirlie, and it’s time she knew it. Let them see how vile and hateful they are without me trying to cover it up and take all the blame. Maybe, for once, they’ll see themselves and make their own changes. I won’t hold my breath for it, and I’m not sticking around to see the results.

I’m setting this burden down. I don’t need to hold it up anymore. I never did.

I look at her with a smile that’s a little bit smug and a lot chaotic. “For what? The only true thing I’ve done to him is not show up for one dinner. I couldn’t have been busy? He’s blown me off several times. If he doesn’t care enough to text me that he can’t make it without prompting, why should I? Fair’s always been fair for you Broussards, hasn’t it, Valerie? I’m just practicing what you preach to your babies. I’m treating others how they treat me. At least I have the guts to admit it.”

It’s like a record just got scratched so loud it echoes in the silence that falls. The sudden flip from my desperate distraction to my mockery seems to surprise everyone. The normal reactions to my anticipated drama get suspended. Everyone is staring at me with shock-filled, wide eyes.

My tone alone would get me scolded. Throwing all her self-righteous teachings back in her face might have gotten my butt beat. But no one calls Maman by her first name unless they mean business.

Well, guess what? Imeanit.

I can’t think of her as a mother in any respect anymore. To the rest of them, sure. To me? The only things she’s ever done for me were the basic necessities to keep a child alive. Food, shelter, water, and education. I could have gotten that in foster care.

Gone is the image of a woman who struggled for her children and provided love and support. That stopped for me when I was a child.

It hits me at that moment that I didn’t just lose one parent that day. I lost both. My whole family, from beginning to end, one tiny piece at a time. I’ve been mourning the loss from day one and only now figured it out. I felt guilty, as if the whole thing had been my fault. The abuse, the arrest, and everything that came after. All because I was a cruel man’s favorite child. It’s time to let it rest, and if it doesn’t, I willmakeit rest.

“What did you just say to me?” She asks, sounding breathless and wide-eyed in disbelief.

It’s funny that any arguing or shouting never amounted to anything in her eyes. She could brush all that off and steamroll through. Being called by her given name has pressed pause on her. If I had known that before, my life might have been different.

“Addie, I’m sorry,” Asher interrupts quickly. “I had good reasons for every single time I didn’t answer. I swear to you.”

I’m not falling for this distraction. She wants all the negative attention on me. I’m going to give them a real reason for it.