Free Dancing Barefoot by Amber Lea Easton Page A

void.
    As far as she was concerned, her official history began in college where she'd reinvented herself for the most part. How many times had Julie showed up at campus, though, with one of her new men wanting to show off her daughter? That's what she'd always been...a trophy of sorts for her mother to use as proof that she hadn't sucked as a parent, but only brought out when necessary to impress otherwise forgotten about to collect dust.
    Julie stretched along the sofa wearing only a t-shirt, panties and one sock. Empty beer bottles lined the coffee table. Fresh bruises lined her mom's face. According to the neighbor, the police had been here for hours.
    "Oh, mom," she whispered before sitting on the chair opposite the sofa.
    "I don't want you here," her mother answered without opening her eyes. "I didn't call you."
    "Sylvia—"
    "—Is a busy body who should mind her own goddamn business." Julie pushed herself to sitting, arranged her shirt to her thighs, and avoided making eye contact. "It's Saturday, shouldn't you be doing something fun?"
    "Are you okay? Should you be going to the hospital to get checked out or...who did this to you?" How many times had she asked these same questions?
    "Travis. I met him in Atlantic City last week, he's been—"
    "You brought him home with you?"
    "You do not get to ask me questions." Julie pointed a newly manicured finger at her. "Let's not forget who the mother is, got it? You've always been such a downer. One day you'll see it's not so easy being a parent. I gave up everything for you, don't you see? Now look at me. I'm all alone while you're off in the city leading your fancy life."
    Deciding not to argue, she grabbed an armful of bottles and c arried them into the kitchen. After seeing that the garbage can was full, she dumped them all onto the counter.
    "Travis didn't mean to do this. It was that Sylvia who called the police, had to get involved." Julie leaned against the kitchen table. "Do not come in here and clean my house like you own the place."
    She closed her eyes and silently counted to twenty. Why she bothered anymore was anyone's guess. She'd rode on the train for the past hour trying to get to her mom, could have taken her motorcycle, but the sky threatened rain.
    "I told Travis you were an architect. He's in construction. I told him you could probably set him up real nice on one of your projects. I gave him your phone—"
    "Please say you're lying."
    "Don't get all snooty. You've always thought you were better than me, but you're not."
    "For God's sake, mom, you're fifty-nine years old and you're sitting here with bruises on your face surrounded by filth and—"
    Her words were silenced with a slap. She took a step back until her hip collided with the counter, her hands automatically covering the sting on her cheek.
    "You're not better than me." Julie shook her head and looked away. "Who are you to judge? I deserve a good man."
    "A good man doesn't hit you or expect your daughter to get him a job." She walked away from the kitchen and into the living room.
    Her entire body quaked with anger and frustration. Nothing felt familiar anymore, not since Jacques had walked down those stairs at the bookstore yesterday. Being here with her mom, having the same conversation she'd had at least one thousand times in her lifetime, and picking up beer bottles felt wrong.
    "Where are you going?" Julie followed her onto the porch. "It took you an hour to get here, right?"
    "You know what, mom? You don't deserve to get hit and neither do I." She spun on her heel and looked her mother in the face. "Yes, it took me an hour to get here, but so what? Why did I even come? Oh yeah, that's right, I thought you were hurt and needed your one and only daughter so here I am. Look at you—" she motioned to the t-shirt and sock—"didn't you ever want more than this?"
    "You know I did—"
    "No, I don't. I'm not talking about all the men, I mean you as Julie, as a woman, didn't you want more than this?