Post by spacestylebetsy on Jul 28, 2018 0:29:06 GMT -5
The young blonde woman looked out of the back window of the old Mercury Sable the Uber driver had brought her here in. The scene outside the window was reminiscent of the stereotypical redneck sitcom out of the nineties: Shabby double wide trailers that badly needed a paint job, set on dirt lots. The “lawns” were patches of unkempt grass, some of which were littered with beer cans, hand-me-down kids toys, old cars, stripped for their parts, now left to rust and waste away with time and the elements. Broken lawn chairs set up around portable charcoal grills that were clearly used for anything by actual barbecues. There were cigarette butts everywhere, despite various sorts of cans, bottles, and even old kitchenware being used for ashtrays.There was a small group of children in dirty, tattered clothing playing at the “playground”, which consisted of a worn-down truck tire tied to a rope on a sad looking tree, a slide that was far past its prime held down by tent nails and tied wire, and the coup-de-gras, three rocking horses on a spring that had obviously been lifted from somewhere.
Betsy wrinkled her nose in disgust, suddenly too aware of how she was going to look to the residents of this sad place. Her blonde hair was in a braid that rested on her left shoulder, her face was perfectly made up and glowing. Her trim figure was clothed in designer jeans, purple Converse sneakers, a knit, purple crop-top and a silver locket her father had given her for her last birthday. Her sunglasses gave the illusion of cat-eyes, the decorative rhinestones sparkling against the sun coming in through the window. Swallowing hard, she steels herself for what she had to do… The conversation that needed to be had with the person in the trailer she now sat in front of her. Her driver, curious as to her hesitation, turns and gives her a scrutinizing looks. He’s an elderly man, retired but still active, looking for a little supplement with his Social Security checks.
“Ya a’right, kid?”, he inquires in a friendly voice, marked by his age and years of smoking. Betsy finally recalls herself and nods, shifting in her seat and removing her seat-belt.
“I… Well... “ The typically out-spoken genius seemed to be at a loss for words.
The driver’s eyes look on her as if he were looking at his own daughter. Though this woman was closer to his oldest grandchild’s age, he recognized many aspects of his own offspring in her. He had warmed to Miss Betsy and her friendly demeanor; this is, perhaps, what compelled him to touch her arm gently. “I’m not sure what ya intentions are about these parts. But ya don’t have ta do nothin’ ya don’t feel up ta doin’. I’d be more than happy ta drive ya back to ya hotel.”
Smiling at the driver, Betsy shakes her head and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Mr. Corbett, but I must do this. Today was a long time coming… I’m too close to turn back now. Will you be on standby when I’m ready to leave?”
Mr. Corbett tips his hat in a grand gesture that makes Betsy giggle. “I can’t be makin’ no promises as ta that, Miss Betsy, but I’ll certainly try ma damnedest.”
Betsy nods her gratitude and finally working up her nerve, opens the door to the car and slides out. She looks back at Mr. Corbett, who gives her a reassuring nod and with a return nod, Betsy shuts the door to the car and turns on her heel to look at the trailer before her.
It’s slightly less shabby than the rest, though neglect and time had taken their toll. The lawn was little more than a dried out dirt lot that had seen better days. Unlike the rest, there were no signs to welcome company, such as lawn chairs and childrens toys. Upon closer inspection, Betsy could see that the shades were drawn shut. She could feel the eyes of the children and their chaperones on her, which made her feel self-conscious all of a sudden. Turning her head slightly, she’s relieved to see that the Mercury Sable was still parked outside the trailer, it’s driver waiting until she was safely inside before driving off to his next fare. Her mouth suddenly goes dry; she nibbles her lower lip furiously, her nerves worked to their highest peak. Her hand pauses as she raises it to knock on the door… This was it. Once she knocked, there was no going back to the safety of the car. Whatever happened from this point was completely in the hands of fate. Heart racing, her temple suddenly throbbing with anxiety, Betsy pounds loudly on the door to her mother’s trailer.
Someone stumbles around inside and mutters something that doesn’t sound very friendly. Heavy footsteps grow closer to the door before stopping before it. Betsy can hear the tumble of the lock being turned and finally, the door opens a little and Elena Granger peers around from the other side. She blinks against the bright, Iowa sun, beating down against skin that clearly hasn’t seen the daylight in a long time. Brassy blonde hair that was once kept flawless with keratin treatments was now a disheveled mess of knots and tangles. Her lips were dry and cracked, the crows feet around her eyes more prominent than Betsy had ever seen them. Elena had clearly let herself go since her elder daughter, Adelaide, broke loose from her grips and gone off in her own direction. She now stares blankly at the younger daughter who she had always cast aside.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” Her voice was hoarse, she sounded as though she hadn’t had a drink in hours. To Betsy’s immense surprise, however, Elena opens the door wider and beckons for her to enter.
The smell hits her first. Unable to stop herself, Betsy puts a hand over her nose to block the mixture of rotting food, stale cigarette smoke, and spilled liquor as she shuts the door behind her. Having an uninvited look around, her heart sinks and pity for her mother fills her. The trailer is in complete disarray: A volcano of dirty dishes that overflow from the sink take up the tiny bit of counter space. Empty, unwashed cans of various Chef-Boyardee meals clog up a stove that has never been used. Trash is overflowing onto the floor in a trail towards the door. Several garbage bags are lined up against the back wall. Her bed sheets are wrinkled, stained with sweat, clearly never having been washed. Her clothes tell the same story, some of them hung up sloppily on a rack by the window, most balled up in a hamper, the rest tossed about the house. Full ashtrays adorn her bedside table, coffee table and there’s even one in the tiny, dirty bathroom on the sink. It was clear that the not a single part of the house had ever been scrubbed or dusted, thick layers of dust, dirt, and grime covering every possible unused surface.
Betsy turns back towards her mother and notices all the empty liquor bottles, copious amounts of vodka, whiskey, and tequila had been consumed in this depressing dump of a home. Green eyes meet green eyes and Betsy finally takes a real, honest look at her mother for the first time since entering her home. Elena, who had once been the definition of beauty and self-maintenance was a complete shell of her former self. She wore a pair of dirty blue house slippers, an old, worn-down black lace nightie and an equally worn-down silk, Japanese robe. Elena, in turn, took in her younger daughter with a look of pure disdain. A slight “hmph” escapes her as she lights up a cigarette and reaches for the half-empty bottle of vodka on the little table next to her loveseat.
“Why are you here, Betsy?”
Even now, in her current state of deterioration, Elena had the power to make her younger daughter feel unwanted. Betsy gathers herself up to her full height and swallows back the familiar feeling of neglect that had plagued her since she was a small child, looking for her mother’s love and approval. “I came to check on you, Mama. You went completely off the grid after Daddy served you with the papers and I was…”
“Worried?” Elena’s tone is mocking as she looks up at her daughter, taking a long drag of her Misty Menthol. “Sure you were, kid. You don’t fool me with this little act of daughterly concern for one moment. I could almost see your gloating smirk when Joel told me he was divorcing me. Hell, I’m sure you even helped coax him into it.”
The younger Granger girl shakes her head vigorously in denial. “I never once encouraged Daddy to leave you, Mama. Did I dream about it, wish for it? Of course, when I was still a a meek, shy child who just wanted her mother to approve of her and show her that she did love her, even just a little bit. What benefit do I gain for Daddy leaving you now? I’m already out of the house and I’m done trying to get your approval… Or your love.”
Mother and daughter stare each other down, both of them trying to size each other up. Elena snorts through her nose as she takes another long drag of her cigarette, followed by a long swig of the cheap vodka. “You always had your father wrapped around your finger. Turned him against me pretty early on in your life. Clever girl, I always gave you that much. The brains of the family… What good are brains to a farmer father and beauty pageant mother?” Smashing out her cigarette, she leans back, her robe falling open to reveal just how emaciated she truly was. “Adelaide was a gift… Until you turned her against me, too. My beautiful first born, perfect in every way that mattered. She was my pride and joy, my golden child, my-”
“She was your trained cash-cow, or so you hoped. You never counted on her ever actually a growing a mind of her own and breaking away. You can’t blame me for that either, Mama. Addy and I got closer after I was kidnapped last year and she became a major part of my rescue.”
Elena’s eyes, the same shade of green as Addy and Betsy’s, darken and grow cold. Her voice is like ice. “I remember that. Snatched you right off the street, didn’t they?”
A shiver runs through Betsy as she recalls, unwillingly, the two months she had been held prisoner and tortured by the CEO of Matthews Enterprises. “In the early morning hours, during my morning run... “ Betsy swallows hard to fight the lump in her throat and looks down at her hands in her lap. “Did you worry about me at all? Did you even care?” She braced herself for the answers she feared most.
“Do you really need to ask? Do you really want the answer to those kinds of questions?” Betsy looks up for the merest of moments and gives the smallest of nods. Elena’s face darkens and she crosses her arms over her chest. “No, Betsy. Hand to god, swear on my own life, I hoped that they would give up on the ransom and whatever games that CEO guy was trying to play with your little boyfriend at the time and just dispose of you like a used needle.” Betsy started to shake as the tears filled her eyes, but Elena ignored this. “It’s no secret I was never fond of you, Betsy, but if you really want these answers, if this is why you came, then let’s just get down to brass tacks.” Betsy looked up at her mother, tears spilling down her cheeks, lips trembling and silently waited. Elena chugged the rest of her bottle and let it slide from her fingers, lighting up another cigarette before continuing. “I didn’t want you from the start. When I found out I was pregnant, I was hoping for my boy. Your father and I were both hoping for our son. But no, we got landed with you. Your father, he was easily pacified by whatever we got, but you were a bitter disappointment to me from the womb. The only reason I didn’t drink a Drain-o Cocktail was because of Joel. But I tried to look on the bright side, I tried to think of it as an opportunity to have another daughter in the beauty pageant world. Two beautiful girls to carry on my legacy. But as you started to grow, I knew you would never be the beauty your sister was. You look more like your father, and then that brain… Ugh. I couldn’t keep your nose out of a book long enough to do your hair and put you in pretty clothes. You wanted none of it. Another bitter disappointment from my younger girl, but your father was over the moon about your smarts.” Elena chuckles without mirth. “He wanted to nurture that, allow you to develop that brain of yours, and I wanted to try and make you something worth showing off to our friends and family. If I had known he was getting you all those textbooks and educational games, I would have put a stop to it.”
Betsy mouth drops in horror as her mother continues to rail into her for the very asset she valued most in herself.
“Before I knew it, you were in the same grade as your sister, surpassing her grade, but never her looks. Your father couldn’t have been prouder, I couldn’t have been more humiliated. What good are brains in this world? A woman without her looks is as worthless as a man without a fat wallet. I managed to keep your sister under my thumb and she was happy enough to mold herself to my image. You, though… The more you continued to grow, the plainer you became. Look at you.” Her words became more venomous as she spit them towards her silently weeping daughter. “This ugly, skinny little bookworm who was more concerned about learning different languages and filling her brain with facts and figures than she was about making herself a desirable, useful part of her household. Your father might have been happy to feed into your delusion that your brains would bring you glory, but look at you now! How much do you actually need to use all that ridiculous, useless nonsense you learned from books and scholars in a wrestling ring? The fans who watch, the people you share a locker room with, you think they give a damn about how quickly you can answer a question of science or math? Do you find yourself involved in deep, philosophical conversations about the great minds of the past?” Elena shakes her head and wags a finger in Betsy’s face. “No...You did all that schooling, all that learning just to land in a business that relies on being physically fit and highly attractive. I’ve seen some of the men and women you work around. Most of them look like they belong on Abercrombie and Fitch posters than a wrestling ring, but they know that having good looks is going to get them ahead. And then there’s you… Still the plainest Jane in the bunch. And where has that gotten you so far? For all your training, all your efforts, all your talk and self-promoting… What has it gotten you? They don’t give a damn about you, Betsy, how could they? You won’t do what needs to be done to draw attention to yourself. Because you can’t. You were a disappointment from the womb, Betsy, and you continue to spread that disappointment where ever you go. You surround yourself with beautiful people to hide the fact that you aren’t beautiful yourself. I know you too well, little girl, to believe for one moment that you actually have the confidence you exude when you’re on your little Twitter or cutting one of your little promos for a match. You’re absolutely nothing, Betsy Granger. NOTHING. You always have been, you always will be.”
Betsy, who had been frozen in horror, tears falling silently down her cheeks, slumps down into a chair. Elena just stares at her with a blank face, wondering how her younger daughter would respond to what she already know. Betsy cleared her throat several times and finally managed to speak in a strangled whisper. “You… Never loved me at all, did you? Ever? Not even once, a little bit? I never made you proud?”
Elena shrieked with mocking laughter as she slapped her knee. “LOVED YOU?! Betsy, I would have gotten you scraped without blinking an eye if your father hadn’t found the positive test in the bathroom garbage. How could one ever love, be proud of a pebble in their shoe? A thorn in their side? You were a mistake from the get-go, the result of a few too many drinks and carelessness on my part for forgetting to take my birth control. Go run and cry to your father, kid. Be thankful you at least have one parent who could see past your gaping flaws and appreciate you for what you turned out to be. Don’t bother coming back here. You have your answers… And now you’re officially dead to me.”
Elena gets to her feet and heads to the door. Betsy rises and follows suit, her head hung low, still biting her lip to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape her. Despite everything her mother had just said, there was still the little girl inside of her that desperately wanted her mother’s love, just one time. She took one step outside the door and turned back to face her mother. Elena’s eyes widened in surprise when Betsy wrapped her arms around her shoulders and hugged her. A grunt of disgust passed Elena’s lips and she shoved her daughter off of her hard. Betsy lost her footing and landed flat on her back in the dirt yard. As she sat up, she and her mother locked eyes… Possibly for the last time. For one moment, an unfamiliar look of remorse crossed the face of Elena Granger… And passed so quickly, Betsy would swear for the rest of her life that she had imagined it. She opened her mouth to tell her mother she loved her, but Elena slammed the door shut as hard as she could and locked the door.
Betsy sat as still as a statue, overwhelmed by what had just happened. The children in the playground were all watching her openly. Betsy got up slowly, brushing herself off and started walking down the gravel road towards the exit of the park. Her eyes landed on the most blessed of sights that day: The Mercury Sable of Mr. Corbett, parked just up the road. Betsy rushed over to it and got in, trembling from head to toe. The old man looked at her from the rearview mirror and knew that nothing had gone right for the young girl.
“Ya okay, kid?” He asked in such a kindly voice, so different from the coldness of her mother, that the dam inside of her broke. Loud, wailing sobs poured from her, uncontrollable, for what felt like hours. Mr. Corbett took her hand and held it, his heart breaking for the young woman in his back seat. He knew better than to ask what had transpired between her and the evil looking woman inside the trailer, but he knew it hadn’t been good. So instead, he held her hand silently, letting her get it out of her system.
Betsy was grateful to the old man and when her sobs turned to soft whimpers and hiccups, he passed her a box of tissues he carried with him in the front. Betsy nodded her thanks and started wiping her eyes and blowing her nose as Mr. Corbett turned back to the road and began to drive. “Where were ya thinkin’ of goin’ next, Miss Betsy?” He asked in a gentle voice.
“The airport, please… I need… I need to leave this state as soon as possible.” Her voice was hoarse from crying and still trembled with emotion. Mr. Corbett nods and sets his GPS as Betsy pulls out her phone and begins texting the two people she wanted to see most, hoping Adam and/or Elizabeth would be able to make time for her in their busy lives…
Betsy wrinkled her nose in disgust, suddenly too aware of how she was going to look to the residents of this sad place. Her blonde hair was in a braid that rested on her left shoulder, her face was perfectly made up and glowing. Her trim figure was clothed in designer jeans, purple Converse sneakers, a knit, purple crop-top and a silver locket her father had given her for her last birthday. Her sunglasses gave the illusion of cat-eyes, the decorative rhinestones sparkling against the sun coming in through the window. Swallowing hard, she steels herself for what she had to do… The conversation that needed to be had with the person in the trailer she now sat in front of her. Her driver, curious as to her hesitation, turns and gives her a scrutinizing looks. He’s an elderly man, retired but still active, looking for a little supplement with his Social Security checks.
“Ya a’right, kid?”, he inquires in a friendly voice, marked by his age and years of smoking. Betsy finally recalls herself and nods, shifting in her seat and removing her seat-belt.
“I… Well... “ The typically out-spoken genius seemed to be at a loss for words.
The driver’s eyes look on her as if he were looking at his own daughter. Though this woman was closer to his oldest grandchild’s age, he recognized many aspects of his own offspring in her. He had warmed to Miss Betsy and her friendly demeanor; this is, perhaps, what compelled him to touch her arm gently. “I’m not sure what ya intentions are about these parts. But ya don’t have ta do nothin’ ya don’t feel up ta doin’. I’d be more than happy ta drive ya back to ya hotel.”
Smiling at the driver, Betsy shakes her head and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Mr. Corbett, but I must do this. Today was a long time coming… I’m too close to turn back now. Will you be on standby when I’m ready to leave?”
Mr. Corbett tips his hat in a grand gesture that makes Betsy giggle. “I can’t be makin’ no promises as ta that, Miss Betsy, but I’ll certainly try ma damnedest.”
Betsy nods her gratitude and finally working up her nerve, opens the door to the car and slides out. She looks back at Mr. Corbett, who gives her a reassuring nod and with a return nod, Betsy shuts the door to the car and turns on her heel to look at the trailer before her.
It’s slightly less shabby than the rest, though neglect and time had taken their toll. The lawn was little more than a dried out dirt lot that had seen better days. Unlike the rest, there were no signs to welcome company, such as lawn chairs and childrens toys. Upon closer inspection, Betsy could see that the shades were drawn shut. She could feel the eyes of the children and their chaperones on her, which made her feel self-conscious all of a sudden. Turning her head slightly, she’s relieved to see that the Mercury Sable was still parked outside the trailer, it’s driver waiting until she was safely inside before driving off to his next fare. Her mouth suddenly goes dry; she nibbles her lower lip furiously, her nerves worked to their highest peak. Her hand pauses as she raises it to knock on the door… This was it. Once she knocked, there was no going back to the safety of the car. Whatever happened from this point was completely in the hands of fate. Heart racing, her temple suddenly throbbing with anxiety, Betsy pounds loudly on the door to her mother’s trailer.
Someone stumbles around inside and mutters something that doesn’t sound very friendly. Heavy footsteps grow closer to the door before stopping before it. Betsy can hear the tumble of the lock being turned and finally, the door opens a little and Elena Granger peers around from the other side. She blinks against the bright, Iowa sun, beating down against skin that clearly hasn’t seen the daylight in a long time. Brassy blonde hair that was once kept flawless with keratin treatments was now a disheveled mess of knots and tangles. Her lips were dry and cracked, the crows feet around her eyes more prominent than Betsy had ever seen them. Elena had clearly let herself go since her elder daughter, Adelaide, broke loose from her grips and gone off in her own direction. She now stares blankly at the younger daughter who she had always cast aside.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” Her voice was hoarse, she sounded as though she hadn’t had a drink in hours. To Betsy’s immense surprise, however, Elena opens the door wider and beckons for her to enter.
The smell hits her first. Unable to stop herself, Betsy puts a hand over her nose to block the mixture of rotting food, stale cigarette smoke, and spilled liquor as she shuts the door behind her. Having an uninvited look around, her heart sinks and pity for her mother fills her. The trailer is in complete disarray: A volcano of dirty dishes that overflow from the sink take up the tiny bit of counter space. Empty, unwashed cans of various Chef-Boyardee meals clog up a stove that has never been used. Trash is overflowing onto the floor in a trail towards the door. Several garbage bags are lined up against the back wall. Her bed sheets are wrinkled, stained with sweat, clearly never having been washed. Her clothes tell the same story, some of them hung up sloppily on a rack by the window, most balled up in a hamper, the rest tossed about the house. Full ashtrays adorn her bedside table, coffee table and there’s even one in the tiny, dirty bathroom on the sink. It was clear that the not a single part of the house had ever been scrubbed or dusted, thick layers of dust, dirt, and grime covering every possible unused surface.
Betsy turns back towards her mother and notices all the empty liquor bottles, copious amounts of vodka, whiskey, and tequila had been consumed in this depressing dump of a home. Green eyes meet green eyes and Betsy finally takes a real, honest look at her mother for the first time since entering her home. Elena, who had once been the definition of beauty and self-maintenance was a complete shell of her former self. She wore a pair of dirty blue house slippers, an old, worn-down black lace nightie and an equally worn-down silk, Japanese robe. Elena, in turn, took in her younger daughter with a look of pure disdain. A slight “hmph” escapes her as she lights up a cigarette and reaches for the half-empty bottle of vodka on the little table next to her loveseat.
“Why are you here, Betsy?”
Even now, in her current state of deterioration, Elena had the power to make her younger daughter feel unwanted. Betsy gathers herself up to her full height and swallows back the familiar feeling of neglect that had plagued her since she was a small child, looking for her mother’s love and approval. “I came to check on you, Mama. You went completely off the grid after Daddy served you with the papers and I was…”
“Worried?” Elena’s tone is mocking as she looks up at her daughter, taking a long drag of her Misty Menthol. “Sure you were, kid. You don’t fool me with this little act of daughterly concern for one moment. I could almost see your gloating smirk when Joel told me he was divorcing me. Hell, I’m sure you even helped coax him into it.”
The younger Granger girl shakes her head vigorously in denial. “I never once encouraged Daddy to leave you, Mama. Did I dream about it, wish for it? Of course, when I was still a a meek, shy child who just wanted her mother to approve of her and show her that she did love her, even just a little bit. What benefit do I gain for Daddy leaving you now? I’m already out of the house and I’m done trying to get your approval… Or your love.”
Mother and daughter stare each other down, both of them trying to size each other up. Elena snorts through her nose as she takes another long drag of her cigarette, followed by a long swig of the cheap vodka. “You always had your father wrapped around your finger. Turned him against me pretty early on in your life. Clever girl, I always gave you that much. The brains of the family… What good are brains to a farmer father and beauty pageant mother?” Smashing out her cigarette, she leans back, her robe falling open to reveal just how emaciated she truly was. “Adelaide was a gift… Until you turned her against me, too. My beautiful first born, perfect in every way that mattered. She was my pride and joy, my golden child, my-”
“She was your trained cash-cow, or so you hoped. You never counted on her ever actually a growing a mind of her own and breaking away. You can’t blame me for that either, Mama. Addy and I got closer after I was kidnapped last year and she became a major part of my rescue.”
Elena’s eyes, the same shade of green as Addy and Betsy’s, darken and grow cold. Her voice is like ice. “I remember that. Snatched you right off the street, didn’t they?”
A shiver runs through Betsy as she recalls, unwillingly, the two months she had been held prisoner and tortured by the CEO of Matthews Enterprises. “In the early morning hours, during my morning run... “ Betsy swallows hard to fight the lump in her throat and looks down at her hands in her lap. “Did you worry about me at all? Did you even care?” She braced herself for the answers she feared most.
“Do you really need to ask? Do you really want the answer to those kinds of questions?” Betsy looks up for the merest of moments and gives the smallest of nods. Elena’s face darkens and she crosses her arms over her chest. “No, Betsy. Hand to god, swear on my own life, I hoped that they would give up on the ransom and whatever games that CEO guy was trying to play with your little boyfriend at the time and just dispose of you like a used needle.” Betsy started to shake as the tears filled her eyes, but Elena ignored this. “It’s no secret I was never fond of you, Betsy, but if you really want these answers, if this is why you came, then let’s just get down to brass tacks.” Betsy looked up at her mother, tears spilling down her cheeks, lips trembling and silently waited. Elena chugged the rest of her bottle and let it slide from her fingers, lighting up another cigarette before continuing. “I didn’t want you from the start. When I found out I was pregnant, I was hoping for my boy. Your father and I were both hoping for our son. But no, we got landed with you. Your father, he was easily pacified by whatever we got, but you were a bitter disappointment to me from the womb. The only reason I didn’t drink a Drain-o Cocktail was because of Joel. But I tried to look on the bright side, I tried to think of it as an opportunity to have another daughter in the beauty pageant world. Two beautiful girls to carry on my legacy. But as you started to grow, I knew you would never be the beauty your sister was. You look more like your father, and then that brain… Ugh. I couldn’t keep your nose out of a book long enough to do your hair and put you in pretty clothes. You wanted none of it. Another bitter disappointment from my younger girl, but your father was over the moon about your smarts.” Elena chuckles without mirth. “He wanted to nurture that, allow you to develop that brain of yours, and I wanted to try and make you something worth showing off to our friends and family. If I had known he was getting you all those textbooks and educational games, I would have put a stop to it.”
Betsy mouth drops in horror as her mother continues to rail into her for the very asset she valued most in herself.
“Before I knew it, you were in the same grade as your sister, surpassing her grade, but never her looks. Your father couldn’t have been prouder, I couldn’t have been more humiliated. What good are brains in this world? A woman without her looks is as worthless as a man without a fat wallet. I managed to keep your sister under my thumb and she was happy enough to mold herself to my image. You, though… The more you continued to grow, the plainer you became. Look at you.” Her words became more venomous as she spit them towards her silently weeping daughter. “This ugly, skinny little bookworm who was more concerned about learning different languages and filling her brain with facts and figures than she was about making herself a desirable, useful part of her household. Your father might have been happy to feed into your delusion that your brains would bring you glory, but look at you now! How much do you actually need to use all that ridiculous, useless nonsense you learned from books and scholars in a wrestling ring? The fans who watch, the people you share a locker room with, you think they give a damn about how quickly you can answer a question of science or math? Do you find yourself involved in deep, philosophical conversations about the great minds of the past?” Elena shakes her head and wags a finger in Betsy’s face. “No...You did all that schooling, all that learning just to land in a business that relies on being physically fit and highly attractive. I’ve seen some of the men and women you work around. Most of them look like they belong on Abercrombie and Fitch posters than a wrestling ring, but they know that having good looks is going to get them ahead. And then there’s you… Still the plainest Jane in the bunch. And where has that gotten you so far? For all your training, all your efforts, all your talk and self-promoting… What has it gotten you? They don’t give a damn about you, Betsy, how could they? You won’t do what needs to be done to draw attention to yourself. Because you can’t. You were a disappointment from the womb, Betsy, and you continue to spread that disappointment where ever you go. You surround yourself with beautiful people to hide the fact that you aren’t beautiful yourself. I know you too well, little girl, to believe for one moment that you actually have the confidence you exude when you’re on your little Twitter or cutting one of your little promos for a match. You’re absolutely nothing, Betsy Granger. NOTHING. You always have been, you always will be.”
Betsy, who had been frozen in horror, tears falling silently down her cheeks, slumps down into a chair. Elena just stares at her with a blank face, wondering how her younger daughter would respond to what she already know. Betsy cleared her throat several times and finally managed to speak in a strangled whisper. “You… Never loved me at all, did you? Ever? Not even once, a little bit? I never made you proud?”
Elena shrieked with mocking laughter as she slapped her knee. “LOVED YOU?! Betsy, I would have gotten you scraped without blinking an eye if your father hadn’t found the positive test in the bathroom garbage. How could one ever love, be proud of a pebble in their shoe? A thorn in their side? You were a mistake from the get-go, the result of a few too many drinks and carelessness on my part for forgetting to take my birth control. Go run and cry to your father, kid. Be thankful you at least have one parent who could see past your gaping flaws and appreciate you for what you turned out to be. Don’t bother coming back here. You have your answers… And now you’re officially dead to me.”
Elena gets to her feet and heads to the door. Betsy rises and follows suit, her head hung low, still biting her lip to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape her. Despite everything her mother had just said, there was still the little girl inside of her that desperately wanted her mother’s love, just one time. She took one step outside the door and turned back to face her mother. Elena’s eyes widened in surprise when Betsy wrapped her arms around her shoulders and hugged her. A grunt of disgust passed Elena’s lips and she shoved her daughter off of her hard. Betsy lost her footing and landed flat on her back in the dirt yard. As she sat up, she and her mother locked eyes… Possibly for the last time. For one moment, an unfamiliar look of remorse crossed the face of Elena Granger… And passed so quickly, Betsy would swear for the rest of her life that she had imagined it. She opened her mouth to tell her mother she loved her, but Elena slammed the door shut as hard as she could and locked the door.
Betsy sat as still as a statue, overwhelmed by what had just happened. The children in the playground were all watching her openly. Betsy got up slowly, brushing herself off and started walking down the gravel road towards the exit of the park. Her eyes landed on the most blessed of sights that day: The Mercury Sable of Mr. Corbett, parked just up the road. Betsy rushed over to it and got in, trembling from head to toe. The old man looked at her from the rearview mirror and knew that nothing had gone right for the young girl.
“Ya okay, kid?” He asked in such a kindly voice, so different from the coldness of her mother, that the dam inside of her broke. Loud, wailing sobs poured from her, uncontrollable, for what felt like hours. Mr. Corbett took her hand and held it, his heart breaking for the young woman in his back seat. He knew better than to ask what had transpired between her and the evil looking woman inside the trailer, but he knew it hadn’t been good. So instead, he held her hand silently, letting her get it out of her system.
Betsy was grateful to the old man and when her sobs turned to soft whimpers and hiccups, he passed her a box of tissues he carried with him in the front. Betsy nodded her thanks and started wiping her eyes and blowing her nose as Mr. Corbett turned back to the road and began to drive. “Where were ya thinkin’ of goin’ next, Miss Betsy?” He asked in a gentle voice.
“The airport, please… I need… I need to leave this state as soon as possible.” Her voice was hoarse from crying and still trembled with emotion. Mr. Corbett nods and sets his GPS as Betsy pulls out her phone and begins texting the two people she wanted to see most, hoping Adam and/or Elizabeth would be able to make time for her in their busy lives…
