CHAPTER 25

Ever since I was a little girl she’s done this. Always patronizing me…

Sipping on the bourbon she had hidden in a drawer in her desk, Jackie sat in her office in complete darkness. She took a long swig, and some of the intense liquid escaped her mouth and slid down her cheek. She swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The familiar burning in her chest from the liquor was like an old friend coming back to visit.

Even though she had a drink just before the meeting.

And an hour before that.

And at breakfast…

So?

Who cares?

Nothing wrong with having a little drink now and then…

I got it under control.

It’s her fault I’m like this…

Why am I here if she doesn’t give me anything to do?

She’s watching me…

Testing me…

I’m ready, Mama!

Ready to take over the world.

She laughed then, long and bitter.

It’s not easy knowing you’re not the favorite.

Jackie remembered growing up watching her mother dote on her younger brother, Michael.

I was the oldest; I should have been the star.

She remembered coming home from high school, excited because she made an “A” on her first cosmetology exam. She rushed into the kitchen, breathless. Her mother turned to look at her. And frowned.

The wind got kicked out of Jackie’s sails as she listened to her mother criticize her about her hair not being neat enough.

“I’m sorry, Mama…I was rushing.”

“Jacquilyn, you could at least stop and take a comb to your hair! I own a hair salon and my daughter goes around like some kind of Raggedy Ann doll! Go to the bathroom right now and fix it! I don’t want to look at you like that!”

“But, Mama—”

“Now!” her mother said, her eyes becoming hard slits.

Jackie walked to the bathroom down the hall, and started combing her hair. She heard when her brother raced in from the back door, his small feet sounding like a brigade marching to battle.

“Michael!” her mother cried, reaching down and giving him a warm hug.

“Hey, Mama!”

Jackie stepped out of the bathroom and watched them. At first she thought Michael’s shirt was covered in shadows, that her eyes were deceiving her. But they weren’t. He had spilled what looked like chocolate milk all over his white polo shirt.

How come he wasn’t getting yelled at?

Angry, she stormed into the kitchen.

“Look at his shirt! He’s got chocolate milk all over it! How come you’re not yelling at him, Mama? Why you always yelling at me?”

“Oh, Jacquilyn, do we have to start this right now? I’m tired.”

“No! You should yell at both of us or neither of us—”

“For heaven’s sake, he’s a child. They get dirty, okay? You’re almost a grown woman—”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair! I am so sick and tired of you always comparing yourself to Michael. I’m trying to raise you to be self-sufficient—”

“No, Mama, you said it right at first. You’re tired of me,” Jackie said, walking away, ignoring her mother calling her name.

If there was one thing she got from her mother, that would be it—the last word.

I guess you taught me something after all. Jackie took another gulp of bourbon.

You’ll see.

You’ll see I’m just as good as everybody else.

Sheila, Theresa, everybody.

I’m gonna prove to you I’m somebody.