I sat at the dining room table, both elbows on it, twirling a piece of gum around one finger, while biting at the other end. Mom was yelling at me, as usual, and as usual I was ignoring her the best I could.
"Get your elbows off the table! Spit that gum out! Young ladies don't chew gum, makes you look like a cow!"
"At least I'm not a cow."
Mom whipped around, and Daddy looked over at me, trying to hide a smile.
"Apologize!"
"Fuck you."
"Oooooo! I don't know what to do with you! I said to spit the damn gum out!"
"I'm not spitting the gum out. I have every right to chew it if I want."
"Not in this house you don't. In this house, under my rules, you will not chew gum, you fucking brat."
"It's not your house. It's Daddy's house, and Daddy hasn't told me to stop chewing gum."
She knew she couldn't argue that, and it pissed her off even more. She moved from the stupid argument of chewing gum to my clothing.
"Change your clothes. You look like a slut."
"No."
"What?"
"I said no. I bought these clothes. I buy every single piece of clothing I own and I will not change them."
Mom looked from me to Daddy and opened her eyes wide, making what she thought to be a dramatic look to emphasis that she was right.
"Theron! Would you please do something with this girl!"
Daddy looked at me, and then to mom.
"Karen, I don't think she looks bad. She's dressed just like any other girl her age."
"She's dressed like a slut. Look at her, you can see her belly button, when she sits down her damn panties show, and the shirt hugs too goddamn tight to her tits."
"Get off her Karen."
Mom wouldn't argue with Daddy; she bit her lip and turned around to finish making breakfast. I decided that I'd had enough and got up.
"Where are you going?"
"Away from you."
"You've not eating breakfast."
"Great job at pointing out the obvious. I'm outta here."
I came around the table and kissed Daddy's cheek, before going to the front door and slamming it shut. I had no idea what mom would talk about now; I was the center of her attention, and it had begun to make me sick.
Mom had always been a little over-protective, and I never minded it, until recently. Ever since I'd grown a pair of tits, and began to venture out more on my own, thanks to the car that Daddy had bought for me for my 18th birthday; Mom was constantly on my ass. My friends said that it was because she was jealous. I looked exactly like her, only I was 30 years younger, and never had a kid, so my body was tighter and perkier than hers. Mom, by no means, had let go of herself. She worked out four times a week, keeping her body trim and fit. I'd see her sometimes looking at herself in the mirror, taking her hands to the top of her chest and pulling up on the skin, to make her nipples point back up to the sky. She didn't have bad looking boobs, they were round with big nipples, and I knew, stealing some of her sexier bras, that we both wore a 36D. I'd sparked an argument once, when I spoke up as she looked at herself in the mirror.
"If you're so worried about your tits sagging a little, why don't you go get a tit lift."
"No fucking plastic surgeon is going to touch me!"
"Then quit worrying about it. Your boobs aren't that bad."
"How would you know? Look at yours."
"Because I'm looking at yours, and they don't look bad! They look good. I only hope I have boobs like that when I'm 48."
"Why don't you just quit looking, it's sick."
"Whatever. Then don't stand here with the fucking door open."
"Watch your mouth!"
"I would if I could see it."
Mom hated that, she hated just a little bit of sarcasm, and for it, I got the door slammed in my face.
I thought about all these things as I drove around. I was confused, I didn't know why Mom had started treating me so meanly. I couldn't just ask her, she'd blow another fuse and start yelling at me for everything else.
I got back to the house after nine p.m. I knew I was going to be in for it, being gone all day long; but at the moment I just didn't care.
As soon as the front door closed, Mom came running into the entrance way from the living room.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"None of your business."
"It is my business! What? Were you with some boy? You were weren't you? You were out fucking some man all day. That's why you just showed up."
"No! Why would you even say that?"
"Because it's true! It's not like you don't invite trouble with those slutty clothes you wear!"
"No it's not! I'm fucking done with you!"
I brushed passed her and ran up the stairs with her yelling after me, "you get back down here, you little whore!"
I screamed in frustration before slamming my bedroom door. I threw my clothes off and put on a nightgown before sitting down at my vanity table to wash off my make-up. As I plucked the wipes out of their box there was a knock on my door.
"Go away!"
"It's me."
"Oh, then come in."
As Daddy entered the room, I began to scrub my lips hard. He moved towards me and brought my hand down.
"Don't punish yourself for her."
He grabbed the wipe out of my hand and started to softly take the lipstick off. I lost it, then, I couldn't help myself, and I began to cry. Daddy took another wipe from the box, and washed away the mascara that streamed down my cheeks. I leaned forward when he was done, resting my head against the waistband of his slacks.
"I'm not a slut, Daddy. I swear."
"I know."
"Then why doesn't she?"
I looked up, my chin taking the place of my forehead. He wiped at my tears again, then spoke.
"I don't know."
"I don't know how you can stand her."
He let out a sigh, and shook his head, "she's not like that with me. She's a good woman."
I rolled my eyes, "why isn't she good to me? What have I done to piss her off?"
"Nothing. She's going through some self-esteem issues, and she sees you as a target, I guess."
"So, she's jealous of me?"
"Yeah a little."
Daddy took my hand and helped me off the chair. He guided me to the bed and laid me down. He laid down behind me and I smiled.
"You've not done this since I was a little girl."