Page 82 of Untying the Knot
“Because I should have an idea at this point, and I don’t. That’s embarrassing.”
“Says who? Pretty sure there isn’t anything that says people need to have their life figured out by a certain age. My grandma Louise is the perfect example of that. She was an elementary school teacher for thirty years and then one day said she was going to start fishing lobster. And she did.”
“What?” I laugh. “Isn’t that arduous work?”
“She wouldn’t bring in many, it was more of an after-retirement hobby, but she didn’t know anything about lobster cages. She decided to learn, went out on her little boat, and she spent her days fishing for lobsters. To this day, I will always say she caught the best of the best, and boy, did she know how to cook them. She made this special butter sauce that melted in your mouth.”
“I’ve never had lobster.”
His eyes shoot open. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah. My mom never really thought I was special enough to spend money on lobster, and as an adult, I guess I’ve always been afraid to try it.”
“Well, we’re going to have to change that now, aren’t we?”
“Any good seafood places around here?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’ll have to take you to Maine. It’s the only place to get lobster. I refuse to eat any other kind.”
“Lobster snob, are we?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest about it. So, Maine lobster, huh? What do you miss most about living there?”
“As you know, I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone and everything happening in each other’s lives. It sometimes felt invasive, but when push came to shove, the town was there for you if you needed something. Also, Bright Harbor and Port Snow are magical during the holiday season. Twinkle lights as far as the eye can see, Christmas music playing all of the time, and little kiosks resurrected on each corner with homemade hot chocolate and cookies. Nothing beats it.”
“I would love to see it one day.”
“Where have you lived?”
“Everywhere,” I say with a sigh. “Ohio, Arizona, Colorado, Nebraska, New Mexico, and here.”
“Wow, that is everywhere. Which was your favorite?”
I think about that through the muddiness of my childhood. “Depends, Colorado was the prettiest, but I have the best memories when we were in New Mexico. That was before everything happened.”
“Can I ask what you mean by everything?” he asks.
Nichole is really the only one that knows about my past. I haven’t felt comfortable with anyone else to talk about this, but I don’t know if it’s the ice cream, the night, or probably the man stretched out in front of me, but I feel like I can trust him.
“My parents were both in the Air Force, I think I mentioned that. My dad was an engineer, and my mom was a therapist. Dad’s role was seen as more important than Mom’s, so my mom always had to follow him around. We moved from base to base because of him, and she had to put up with some lousy facilities because of it. She became bitter. He was gone a lot, promoted more, and my mom never got to prove herself the way she wanted to. She became bitter and took it out on me.”
He sits up now, his brows turned down. “I know you’ve mentioned this before, but what precisely do you mean that she took it out on you?”
“Started when I was eight,” I say, my voice slightly shaking. “I forgot to do the dishes before I left for a friend’s house. When I got home, my mom shoved my face into a sink of dirty dishwater. I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to do. I swear, she almost drowned me. When she finally let me up for air, she told me not to do it again. I was so confused. I had no idea where the behavior came from. I mean, I had been spanked, and my mom had slapped me once, but that . . . that was extreme. And it only grew from that moment on. She saw me as weak and unsure, and she took advantage of it. The only time she wouldn’t touch me was when Dad was around. But her jealousy of the relationship I had with Dad made the abuse worse. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I fought back and stood up for myself. By that time, we were in Arizona. I had three years left at home, I’d met Nichole, and I was planning my escape. But she knew how to track my moods, and when I was low, she took advantage of it. She knew when I felt worthless, and she made sure to cultivate that feeling.”
“Holy shit, Myla.” He takes my hand in his. “I know it’s weird to ask, but are you okay?”
I shrug. “I’ve grown from it. I don’t try to waste my time thinking about it because when I do, I turn into someone I don’t like, someone who shelters herself from the world.”
“I can understand that. Is that why you’ve sheltered yourself from me?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s hard for me to trust. It’s hard for me to consider myself worthy enough. So yeah, that’s been a main part of the holdup when it comes to us.”
He brings my knuckles up to his mouth and lightly kisses them. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Did you ever tell your dad?” His compassion wraps around me, comforting me, showing me that maybe I am worthy.
I shake my head. “No, I was too scared what would happen to me if I did tell my dad. So I just lied for her when he saw a bruise or a cut. You would think that would appease her, but it didn’t. I want to believe my dad knew in a way because I saw their relationship deteriorate. My mom cheated on my dad, my dad cheated on my mom—at least that’s what I heard during one fight. It was so toxic that I’m really glad I’m out of their house and don’t have to deal with them anymore.”
