Kassie and her mother walked to the car in silence. They had had to park some way from the police station, which only made things worse now. Kassie wanted to be at home, in her room, as soon as possible. Anything to escape her mother’s fury and disappointment.
Faces passed by, but Kassie didn’t look at them, sidestepping them even as she kept pace with her mother, as if tied to her with an invisible cord. It was the only thing she could think of to do to show that she wasn’t being wilfully difficult, that she didn’t want to cause her mother embarrassment or pain. But it clearly didn’t register – her mother strode along the sidewalk, barely acknowledging her presence.
Eventually they made it to their battered station wagon. Her mother slid the key in the lock and Kassie waited dutifully for her to lean over and unlock the passenger door. There was a moment when she thought her mother might not bother, might drive off, leave her standing in the road. But, no, Kassie thought angrily as her mother leaned over, that would be too easy. Her mother was too much of a martyr to let this opportunity go.
Kassie climbed into the car and settled down for the long, silent journey home. But her mother didn’t move, didn’t even raise the key to the ignition, and as Kassie now turned to her, she was surprised to see that she was crying.
‘Oh, Mama … please don’t cry …’
Guilt-stricken, Kassie reached out a hand, but her mother batted it away. Kassie sat in her seat, holding her smarting hand, feeling utterly hollow. She wanted to do something to ease her mother’s pain. Wanted to say something to let her know that in spite of everything she did love her. But as she tried to speak, tried to find the right words, her mother’s response was brutal and crushing:
‘You’re a stain on this family.’