bitch part.
“You’re more stupid than I thought.”
There are times in life when it takes all your willpower just to shrug.
Caroline smiled slowly, relishing my despair. “You’re going to get everything you deserve—that’s what happens to vulgar little whores who kiss my fiancé.”
Every triumphant gloat she’d ever enjoyed at my expense came flooding back to me.
Every lie.
“Why did you do it?” I asked quietly.
She knew exactly what I was talking about. “Your dirty secret would’ve been exposed sooner or later.”
“Why have you always hated me?” I asked angrily. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
She turned her back. “I bought a dress for you. Something Mum approved of. It’s on a hanger behind my door. Wear it with the black ballerina flats in my wardrobe.”
I jumped off my bed. “I want you to answer me!”
She paused and turned around. “You don’t get what you want, Paisley. Not now, not ever. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“You knew what Manuel was doing,” I said, lowering my voice so it wouldn’t carry. “You watched us from the door and after he left that afternoon you were angry. You convinced me to come forward and tell the whole family, or don’t you remember?”
She looked at her nails with a bored expression. “No.”
“Mum and Dad were livid,” I said, my voice shaking as badly as my body. “Weeks of prayer and punishments, ice at the table and knuckle sandwiches everywhere else. I barely ate or slept and you... You treated me like dirt. I counted on you to help me during the meeting like you promised. Why didn’t you tell them what you’d seen?”
“I told the truth,” she said haughtily.
Liar! my mind screeched.
The memories didn’t race through me; they sauntered across my mind, taking their time to fill me with anguish. We’d sat at the kitchen table with our parents, Father Martin and Officer Williams. I could clearly see Caroline’s angelic face full of sorrow, her hands trembling as she clasped them together. Her voice was regretful as she divulged that in a moment of sisterly confidence I confessed to lying about Manuel’s visits to my bedroom.
I was malicious, Caroline said. I had lied in revenge for Aunt Isabel’s constant scolding and because I hated her. I was jealous of our aunt and wanted to destroy her marriage. It pained Caroline to expose my lies but she couldn’t bear the weight on her conscience any longer. Uncle Manuel and Aunt Isabel had suffered enough because of me.
Unfortunately, it was no secret that I hated my Aunt Isabel. When I was small she’d pinch me, hard, and she’d find reasons to punish me. When I got older she pointed fault at my appearance and made derogatory remarks about my schoolwork. I was openly obnoxious to her and our most recent altercation had been ugly.
Our parents, Father Martin and Officer Williams listened to Caroline, weighing her academic achievements against my truancy, her upstanding record against my history of misdemeanours. Her “honesty” against my lies. I had summoned the courage to speak out, so I tried to convince them I was telling the truth. I gave them the sordid details even down to the tiny mole on Manuel’s dick—God knows I’d seen it enough times—but the more I spoke, the angrier they got.
On the scale of Truth, Caroline’s virtues weighed more than my sins, and they found me guilty of everything she said.
Officer Williams was scathing. He said my parents could have been fined but since I was a minor he’d let me off with a warning for wasting police time. Father Martin lectured me for trying to ruin Manuel’s reputation and his marriage. He wondered if the household was descending into un-Christian practices and recommended strict punishment—a knockout kick to my stomach and a heavy praying regime as it turned out.
But my biggest reward for telling the truth came that weekend, when my extended family gathered in the sitting room to hear my formal
“You’re more stupid than I thought.”
There are times in life when it takes all your willpower just to shrug.
Caroline smiled slowly, relishing my despair. “You’re going to get everything you deserve—that’s what happens to vulgar little whores who kiss my fiancé.”
Every triumphant gloat she’d ever enjoyed at my expense came flooding back to me.
Every lie.
“Why did you do it?” I asked quietly.
She knew exactly what I was talking about. “Your dirty secret would’ve been exposed sooner or later.”
“Why have you always hated me?” I asked angrily. “What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
She turned her back. “I bought a dress for you. Something Mum approved of. It’s on a hanger behind my door. Wear it with the black ballerina flats in my wardrobe.”
I jumped off my bed. “I want you to answer me!”
She paused and turned around. “You don’t get what you want, Paisley. Not now, not ever. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“You knew what Manuel was doing,” I said, lowering my voice so it wouldn’t carry. “You watched us from the door and after he left that afternoon you were angry. You convinced me to come forward and tell the whole family, or don’t you remember?”
She looked at her nails with a bored expression. “No.”
“Mum and Dad were livid,” I said, my voice shaking as badly as my body. “Weeks of prayer and punishments, ice at the table and knuckle sandwiches everywhere else. I barely ate or slept and you... You treated me like dirt. I counted on you to help me during the meeting like you promised. Why didn’t you tell them what you’d seen?”
“I told the truth,” she said haughtily.
Liar! my mind screeched.
The memories didn’t race through me; they sauntered across my mind, taking their time to fill me with anguish. We’d sat at the kitchen table with our parents, Father Martin and Officer Williams. I could clearly see Caroline’s angelic face full of sorrow, her hands trembling as she clasped them together. Her voice was regretful as she divulged that in a moment of sisterly confidence I confessed to lying about Manuel’s visits to my bedroom.
I was malicious, Caroline said. I had lied in revenge for Aunt Isabel’s constant scolding and because I hated her. I was jealous of our aunt and wanted to destroy her marriage. It pained Caroline to expose my lies but she couldn’t bear the weight on her conscience any longer. Uncle Manuel and Aunt Isabel had suffered enough because of me.
Unfortunately, it was no secret that I hated my Aunt Isabel. When I was small she’d pinch me, hard, and she’d find reasons to punish me. When I got older she pointed fault at my appearance and made derogatory remarks about my schoolwork. I was openly obnoxious to her and our most recent altercation had been ugly.
Our parents, Father Martin and Officer Williams listened to Caroline, weighing her academic achievements against my truancy, her upstanding record against my history of misdemeanours. Her “honesty” against my lies. I had summoned the courage to speak out, so I tried to convince them I was telling the truth. I gave them the sordid details even down to the tiny mole on Manuel’s dick—God knows I’d seen it enough times—but the more I spoke, the angrier they got.
On the scale of Truth, Caroline’s virtues weighed more than my sins, and they found me guilty of everything she said.
Officer Williams was scathing. He said my parents could have been fined but since I was a minor he’d let me off with a warning for wasting police time. Father Martin lectured me for trying to ruin Manuel’s reputation and his marriage. He wondered if the household was descending into un-Christian practices and recommended strict punishment—a knockout kick to my stomach and a heavy praying regime as it turned out.
But my biggest reward for telling the truth came that weekend, when my extended family gathered in the sitting room to hear my formal
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