Free Fugue State by M.C. Adams

the media or the crowds.”
    Tess DeBrow’s hand nimbly flicked the door locked without losing her daughter’s gaze. “Alexa,” she said, her voice hovering just above a whisper. “I’m so glad this is all finally over for you. I know everything will be all right now, and you can get your life back on track after this horrible incident.” Tess forced a prim little smile that Alexa knew was typically reserved for public speaking and social banalities.
    The proper, well-kept, sensible attitude her mother maintained was too much for Alexa to bear, and she became painfully aware of the distance between them on the bench seat they shared. Both women clutched the door handles beside them as if their bodies were adhered to the doors.
    “I’m not sure anything will be all right, Mom. I’m afraid I’ll carry this stigma with me everywhere I go. Everything is different. I’m different.” She begged her mother to allow her to fall apart just this once.
    “These things happen in life, Alexa. Bad things happen. People can beat you, they can rape you, but you should never let them change you.” She looked deep into Alexa’s eyes. The pools of blue looking at Alexa were a reflection of her own.
    I look so much like her. The prominent cheekbones, the slope of her nasal bones; only the dyed chestnut hair and the age separate us.
    “You were such a good girl.” She slid a hand across the seat toward her daughter.
    Alexa frowned hard and pulled her own free hand away. Yet, we are infinitely different. You work so hard to keep face while Camelot burns to the ground, and I run around screaming. “Why must you look at me like that? You look at me like I’m a stranger.”
    “I’m looking for my daughter,” Tess stated grimly. “I feel as though I’ve lost her completely. I’m trying to look past the anger on your face. Trying to see beyond the vengefulness you display. I don’t know who you are anymore. I want my daughter back.” Her mother’s stare burned as if she were a priest trying to exorcise a demon from Alexa’s soul. Tess retrieved her outstretched hand and wrung them together in her lap.
    “Why do you keep judging me? You never did that before.” Alexa resisted the urge to open up and succumbed to the defensiveness to which she had grown accustomed. Feeling the tension grow, she tried to think of a way to steer the conversation another direction. It seemed as if the same argument unveiled itself every time she hoped to make amends.
    “I think you should see Father Andrew, Alexa.”
    Seriously? The priest from couples’ counseling? Yes, she’s planning an exorcism.
    “He can help you forgive yourself and find peace with the situation.”
    “No. Not happening. I don’t want or need forgiveness. I’m fine.” You shouldn’t have come. She hung on the thought for a moment and debated whether to unleash the wrath of her words. She paused, lowered the privacy screen, and muttered her parents’ home address to the driver. Her rage refused to subside. She raised the screen, and her head snapped back toward her mom. She’d bottled up too much for too long. The cork popped off, and she overflowed.
    “You show up for the finale, but you missed some really great stuff in the middle, Mom.”
    “You told me not to go to court anymore. It was such a cause of tension — for you, me, your father. All we did was fight. All we do is fight. You won’t let me help you. You only push me away. You’ve become very good at pushing people away, Alexa. I can count them on both hands. . . .”
    “You tell me what I should feel and should think and should do. But you’re not me. If I push you away, it’s because you’re not willing to accept me .” I told you not to come to court if you were going to side against me. She shoved her head back against the seat. “Were you planning to say goodbye today, Mom, thinking they were going to lock me away? Do you think I should be in prison?” Her lips spat bitter