Chapter 4 - The Great Exposure
"What on earth are you doing?" my mother hissed,
stepping forward into the foyer.
Her voice was a sharp whisper,
filled with the venom of a thousand unspoken judgments.
"I told you to wait," she added,
her eyes darting to the plastic bag under my arm.
She knew.
She knew exactly what was in that bag,
and her only concern was that the others might find out.
I looked at her,
really looked at her,
and saw the vanity that drove her every move.
"I couldn't wait," I said,
my voice surprisingly steady,
ringing out in the quiet space.
"I’ve been in that bathroom for three hours,
Mom."
"You look ridiculous," my brother piped up,
taking a swig of the wine from the bottle.
"Did you have an accident,
Hanny-bear?"
The nickname,
once sweet,
now felt like a slap in the face.
A few of the children giggled,
their innocent laughter cutting deeper than any adult’s mockery.
I didn't look at him.
I kept my eyes on my mother,
who was now trying to shepherd the guests back into the dining room.
"It’s nothing," she told them,
her voice forced and bright.
"Hannah is just feeling a bit under the weather,
the heat must have gotten to her."
"The heat?" I asked,
stepping down the last three stairs until I was on the same level as her.
"I have been sick,
and you wouldn't even bring me a pair of jeans."
"Not here,
Hannah," my father said,
stepping forward to place a hand on my mother’s shoulder.
"Let’s just go into the kitchen and talk about this quietly."
"No," I said,
pulling back as he reached out for me.
"I’m not going into the kitchen to be hidden away like a dirty secret."
I looked around at the faces of my family,
the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally.
I saw pity in some eyes,
disgust in others,
and a terrifying apathy in most.
I realized then that I had been trying to fit into a mold that was never built for me.
I was the inconvenient one,
the one whose needs always seemed to clash with the family's desire for perfection.
"I’m leaving," I announced,
the words feeling like a heavy stone being lifted off my chest.
"In that?" my aunt asked,
pointing at the robe with a manicured finger.
"Yes," I said,
squaring my shoulders.
"In this."
I walked toward the front door,
my bare feet slap-slapping against the polished hardwood.
My mother grabbed my arm,
her fingers digging into the thick terrycloth.
"You are not walking out that door like this,
you’ll embarrass us all."
"No," I replied,
shaking her off with a strength I didn't know I possessed.
"I’m not embarrassing you."
"You’re embarrassing yourselves."
I reached for the door handle,
the cold brass a welcome sensation against my palm.
I didn't look back as I pulled the door open,
letting the cool night air rush into the stifling,
scented house.
May you like
The wind felt like a blessing,
cleansing the smell of bleach and resentment from my skin.
