Home

Things were pretty quiet for a few weeks after Olivia’s visit. Orlando didn’t pester me about meeting up with him, mainly because filming was set to start on After Midnight, and he had virtually no time. I ran lines with him over the phone, and offered my opinions for him, but I tried not to interfere too much. He was reading my dialogue, from my final re-write, and he seemed to understand it very well, so I felt no need to press him.

Scheduling my television interview seemed to be taking longer than I’d thought it would. Olivia was being very particular about which shows she contacted, and I was grateful for that. She called me daily to keep me updated, but mostly she just told me to sit tight and wait for the right offer. Of course, she’d let me know what the right offer actually was.

My contented mood wasn’t destined to last, though. My mother’s three-week European honeymoon ended far too soon for my liking, and before I knew it, she had the audacity to actually call me.

I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, expecting it to be either Olivia or Orlando. No such luck.

“Peyton, darling,” my mother’s sickeningly sweet voice rang out, immediately making me want to gag. She had the uncanny ability to act like nothing had ever happened.

“What do you want?” I said coldly, ready to disconnect the phone right then and there.

“Is it so wrong to call my daughter and tell her I’m home?” she said, and I could hear the pout in her voice. I rolled my eyes.

“Yes,” I said simply. “It is.”

“You always do this, you know,” she started, heaving a sigh. “I’m happy and in love, in a great mood, and you have to rain on my parade.”

“If I had my way, I’d be throwing flaming bags of shit on your parade,” I said, going into my office to start up my computer. “But I guess I’ll have to settle for raining on it.”

“Why do you have to be so foul?” Mom snapped, her phony façade slipping. I couldn’t wait for the day when she’d just admit that she hated me so I wouldn’t have to deal with her crap anymore. It would make my life a lot easier. Little did I know, that day would be sooner rather than later.

“That was nothing compared to what you deserve,” I said, dropping down onto my desk chair to wait for my computer.

“What have I ever done to you?” she asked, and I swear, if she’d been in the room, I would have slapped her. How the hell could she be that clueless? Or that delusional?

“What a stupid fucking question,” I spat, spinning my chair away from my desk. I could feel the disgust, the anger, the hatred burning inside of me, and I itched to unload it all on her. Lord knows she’d earned it. “You not only humiliated me every chance you got at that farce of a wedding of yours, but you have potentially blown my whole fucking career. You are a selfish, vindictive, nasty bitch, and I can honestly say I hate you with every fiber of my being. You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself, and you’ve always made me feel like I don’t deserve to be part of your perfect world because I don’t live up to your ridiculous standards. But guess what? If living up to those standards means being anything like you, I’m glad you’re disappointed in me. I may be fat, I may have scars, but I’ve never gone out of my way to be hurtful, or to ruin another person’s life. You’re a fucking bitch, you always have been, and honestly, if I never see you or talk to you again, it will be too soon.”

“You have no right to talk to me that way,” she screeched, her carefully created composure cracking. “You’re an ungrateful cow, Peyton. You’ve been nothing but an embarrassment to me, and you know what? The reason you don’t have any friends, and no one gives a shit about you is because no one can stand to be around you. You’re toxic, and you’re ugly, inside and out, and if I had known this is what you’d turn into, I would have never gotten pregnant. You’re the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and now I’m paying dearly for it.”

Her words should have stung, but for some reason, they didn’t. I still felt what she said, that would probably never change, but her words weren’t as piercing as they could have been, and I felt adrenaline rush through me, making me want to rip her to shreds.

“That just goes to show how little you actually know me,” I said, jumping to my feet, unable to sit still anymore. I started pacing. “You take pleasure in thinking that no one cares about me, and I hate to burst your bubble, but there are a lot of people who give a shit in my life. I’m lucky I can form a functional relationship, because God knows you were never a great example for that. I’m not going to get into a mud-slinging match with you, you’re not worth the shit off the bottom of my shoes, let alone the time for that, so I’m just going to tell you to lose my number. Don’t call me, don’t show up on my doorstep, forget I exist. Then you can go back to your new boy toy and his money, and you can be what you’ve always wanted to be: free of me.”

“You’ll regret this, Peyton,” my mother hissed, her voice shaking with rage. No one ever talked to her like this because she would rip them a new asshole if they did, and they never lasted long after that. I’d seen quite a few of her ‘friends’ come and go over the years because of her attitude, and I was elated to be able to make a clean break from her the way they had.

“The only thing I regret is not telling you to get out of my life sooner,” I said, keeping my voice level, staying calm, suddenly wanting to take the high road. If I flew off the handle at her, she was the victim again, and that’s not something I wanted to give her. She liked it too much.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh yes, Mom,” I said, still pacing, feeling jittery, yet somehow strangely at peace. This was the biggest purge I could ever make in my life, and it was long overdue. “I’m doing it. I should have done this years ago, but I never thought enough of myself to realize that you’re the biggest problem I have in my life. I have a great career, despite your best efforts to ruin it, I have friends, and there’s a man in my life now who actually seems to care about me. So that means there’s no room for you and your bullshit. It seems kind of simple, now that I think about it.”

“The only simple thing here is you,” my mother shrilled, sounding like a rabid banshee, all attempts at control gone. “There’s no man in your life, and your ‘career’ is a joke. You sit in front of a computer all day, on your fat ass, making up drivel for losers who are as pathetic as you have always been. You’ll never have anyone who loves you, Peyton. If your own mother hates you, then why would anyone else love you? You’re not lovable, even to me, and I gave birth to you.”

“That’s fine,” I said, taking a deep breath. I had to end this before I lost my shit on her and said something that would give her the victim status she craved. “I’m hanging up now. Don’t call me. Like I said, forget I exist. Because from now on, you no longer exist to me. Good-bye, Mom.”

I disconnected the phone.

I sat back down at my computer desk, my whole body shaking. I’d needed to do that, it had felt good, but now the aftermath was kicking in. I could feel the hurt from what she’d said starting to flow through me. I felt the repulsion at myself, the hatred I tried so hard to keep at bay, welling up and I had to squeeze my eyes closed and actively fight it. When I started to think I couldn’t stop it from overwhelming me, I picked up the phone again and dialed.

“Olivia, can you talk?” I asked when she answered.

“Sure, Peyton,” she said, sounding very lighthearted, very upbeat. “What’s up?”

“I just told my mother to go to hell,” I said, trying to control the shaking in my body. I stretched, hoping to work out some of that nervous energy, but it didn’t do any good.

“You did?” ‘Liv sounded surprised. “Why were you even talking to her in the first place?”

“She called,” I said, then launched into a full account of the conversation. By the end, I was breathless, and my stomach was knotting wildly.

“God, that woman’s vile,” Olivia said, disgust clear in her voice. “I’m glad you stood up for yourself. You’ll be so much better off without that harpy in your life.” She paused, waiting for a response. “Are you okay?” she asked when I didn’t respond.

“I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “I mean, it felt amazing to finally tell her, point blank, what I think of her, but I’m so used to taking everything she says to heart, it’s hard to just shove it away, you know?”

“That’s understandable,” Olivia said, and I heard her light the obligatory cigarette. “Now what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging to myself. “Business as usual, I guess. I just hate that she can have this affect on me. I hate that nagging little voice in my head that tells me I’m worthless. It sounds suspiciously like her. I’m still not fully convinced I’m not some of those things she said, that I don’t deserve, in some small part, the shit she spewed at me. How fucking pathetic is that?”

“It’s not,” ‘Liv exhaled. She took another drag. “You’ve been told your whole life, even before your accident, that you weren’t worth anything. You can’t expect that belief to just change over night, right? It’s going to take time, and hopefully help from a certain actor friend of yours, to make you realize you’re not worthless.”

“Leave him out of this,” I said quickly, knowing what she was getting at. “I’m not going to get my sense of self-worth from a man. I’m not an idiot.”

“No, but you can’t deny he makes you feel pretty damned good about yourself,” she pointed out. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess,” I sighed, feeling some of the jitters start to relax. I wasn’t shaking as much, and I no longer felt like I was going to puke. I ran my fingers over my scars, needing the comfort of a familiar gesture.

“You did the right thing,” Olivia said after a few seconds of silence. “Just keep telling yourself that. She’s going to eat her words when she sees you on the telly, looking amazing, showing the world how articulate and professional you are. That might be worth a phone call in itself, wouldn’t you say?” I could hear her smirking through the phone.

I smiled, almost despite myself. “No, she’d just use that as an opportunity to criticize my outfit, or my hair, or my fat,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And of course, somehow that would be all about her. She’ll take the bragging rights.” I found myself actually chuckling at what an asshole my mother could be. I felt strangely detached from her stupidity, and I knew it was Olivia’s doing.

“Feel better?” ‘Liv asked when our chuckles had subsided.

“Yeah, I do,” I said, stretching again to clear the last of the jumpy energy from my system. I still felt a bit fragile, like the nasty thoughts could come back at any time, but somehow I knew I’d be able to shove them away, to make them not matter, even if it was just for a little while.

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Thanks, Olivia,” I said, switching the phone to my other ear as I opened my writing program on my computer.

“Any time,” she said gently. “I was going to call you today anyway.”

“Oh?” I said, pulling up the revision file on my new book. “Why’s that?”

“I think we’ve got your television spot scheduled,” she said, and I heard her tapping away on her computer keys. “And I think you’ll be very happy with the results.”

“I doubt that, but go on,” I said, a shot of nerves jolting through my stomach.

“What would you say if I told you we could do this via satellite?”

That drew me up short. “As in, I wouldn’t have to leave my flat?” I asked slowly, positive I’d heard her wrong. My fight with my mother was making me hallucinate, I was sure of it.

“That’s right,” Olivia said, her grin clear in her voice. “We’ll set up a live feed from your flat, you’ll be in the comfort of your own home, it’ll be perfect.”

I tried to imagine cameras and other television equipment scattered around my disastrous living space, but I couldn’t see it. Letting something so intrusive into my private sanctuary was actually worse than me having to leave it. But I hesitated to burst Olivia’s bubble, since she clearly thought this was a compromise, the best of both worlds.

“Um, that’s a great idea,” I said hesitantly. “But doesn’t that defeat the purpose of dragging me out of my shell?” I needed to get out of this in a way that didn’t hurt Olivia’s feelings, especially after she’d been so good to me lately. I couldn’t just shit on her brilliant solution. For once in my life, I had to use tact.

“Yes and no,” she said, but the wheels were clearly turning. She was still typing, and I wondered what she was working on, whether she was hesitating because of that, because she wasn’t paying full attention to our conversation now, or if she was hesitating because she was actually thinking about what I’d said. I was willing to be it was the former.

“That might need some explanation,” I prompted when typing was all I heard for a few seconds.

She seemed to snap back to our conversation, the typing stopped. “It will mean a lot for you to bring your readers into your home, to show them where you spend all of your time. They get to see you, which is what we want, right? Sure, we’re not bringing you out into the world like we’d planned, but this is better. It takes a lot of guts to open yourself up like that.”

“Which is kind of what I’m worried about,” I said honestly. “I don’t want the world to see where I live. I’d be perfectly happy going to a studio or something.”

She saw right through my obvious lie. “No, you wouldn’t,” she said, chuckling to herself. “You know as well as I do that as soon as you get into that room full of people, with all of those bright lights and cameras, you’re going to freeze.”

“No more so than I would here,” I said, my stomach still knotting wildly.

“But at least at home you can escape to your bedroom or the bathroom or somewhere private,” she pointed out. “It will just be your living room we see, nothing else.” She lit another cigarette. “And I’ll have a cleaning crew come by to deal with the mess, don’t worry. Just trust me. I’ll get you through this.”

I sighed. Trust her, that was easier said than done. But the truth was, I’d already trusted her more than any other human being in my life, so why should I stop now?

“All right, ‘Liv,” I conceded, rubbing my fingers over my eyes. “I’ll trust you.”

“That’s all I ask.”