12. That Monstrosity of a Swimsuit
1535 Words
“Brianna, have you tried on your swimsuit yet?”
“It’s not my swimsuit. I’m not ever going to wear that thing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. Plenty of girls your age wear bikinis. Cherry helped pick it out.”
Go figure.
“Cherry likes to show off her boobs. Why do you insist on me being like her?” I cross my arms over my non-chest.
“It’s not about showing off your boobs, Brianna. You have a flat stomach. It will look great at Lilia’s pool party.”
“I don’t even know if I’m going to go.” I say, fighting the sadness in my voice.
“I’ve had enough with your damn stubbornness,” she says with annoyance. “Whatever little problem you have with her can be easily resolved if you just apologize.”
“If it were easy,” I spat, “don’t you think I would already be there?”
“That’s enough of your attitude,” she says sternly. “If Yua didn’t insist on you being there, you wouldn’t have a choice to be able to go. Period.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to,” I say defiantly.
She slams the bikini she’s been holding up onto the nightstand.
“You’re going and you’re going to wear this damn thing because you’ve outgrown your other suits,” she demands.
“Why didn’t you just buy another one piece? I’m not wearing that,” I stand my ground.
“What I buy for you, is my choice. Do you understand how tiring it is to continuously have to buy you a suit you keep growing out of?”
“Blame dad,” I say rolling my eyes.
The next thing I know, I feel the sudden sting of her slap on my face.
“I blame your dad for your spoiled, rotten behavior,” she says with fury. “Your damn eye rolls and your blatant disrespect… Brianna you drive me crazy!”
“Dad doesn’t make me wear things I don’t want to,” I say under my breath, cradling my cheek as tears form at the lingering sting on my cheek.
“Why do you have to always fight me on this!?” she grabs my other arm forcibly and pulls me off the bed. “Change now, or I swear to God, Brianna.”
I hear her threat and I know I have pushed her too far but I can’t bear the thought of having to wear that monstrosity of a swimsuit.
“No mom!” I shout. “I’m not wearing it!”
I feel another hard smack on my other cheek from the back of her hand.
Tears are really coming down now.
“Don’t you ever say no to me!” she yells as she hits me again and again.
I try to endure every blunt force from her hand on every part of my body it meets. I try to use my arms to shield my face but it only infuriates her more. She pulls my arms down and shakes me violently.
“Why can’t you just listen for once!”
I try to breathe between my sobbing and the loss of control I have on my own body.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” I hear my dad shouting, coming into the room.
He pulls my mother off of me and I slump to the floor.
“Don’t you dare get involved again!” she yells at him, glaring.
She pushes him away from her.
“What the hell is your problem?” he glares back.
“MY PROBLEM!?” she yells incredulously. “My fuckin’ problem is you and the way you’re always spoiling that damn child!”
I don’t dare look but I can feel her glare burn through my skin as I stay on the floor looking down.
“You need to calm down,” he says in a deep tone. “The kids are coming up and I’m not going to have a row with you in front of everyone.”
“Oh! Now you care about how we look like in front of others?” she says testingly.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he says firmly. “You need to go to our room and cool off.”
She huffs and puts her hands on her hips.
“You’re damn right we will talk about this later,” she says haughtily. “While you’re at it, tell your daughter she wears that suit or I swear we’ll be talking about more than her behavior.”
She pushes past him and leaves the room with her threat hanging in the air.
I don’t really know what she meant, but the tension radiating off of dad tells me it’s not an empty threat.
I hear him inhale deeply.
I look up and he’s got his face cusped in his hands. I immediately feel guilty for everything getting out of hand.
“I’m sorry,” I try to say, as I find my voice.
“Oh, Bree! Honey, no,” he says as he makes his way to me.
He sits on the floor and pulls me into his arms and consoles me.
We sit there for a moment before we hear the bustling of feet through the front door and the loud laughing and chattering of my older sisters and their boyfriends.
My dad releases me and gets up to close the door. He stands there for a moment facing the closed door. He takes a deep breath in and exhales loudly before he faces me.
He’s looking at me with sad eyes.
Look what I’ve done.
This isn’t the first time and I don’t foresee it being the last time we find ourselves at a loss for words.
“Bree…” he begins. I wish he didn’t look so defeated. He has one hand on his hip and the other one rubbing his temple. I realize he’s in his Navy uniform.
“I need to get back to work,” he finally says.
“Okay,” is all I can say.
“I’m sorry hun, I don’t have time for this,” he says a bit exasperated. “I needed to come pick up files on my lunch break… I… we’ll talk when I get home, okay?”
“Okay.”
He sweeps across the floor and leans down on one knee to lean in to give me a hug.
“I need you to listen to your mom,” he says as he holds me at arms length.
I feel betrayed.
“But-” I began to protest.
“NO BUTS BREE!” he snaps at me and I am shocked.
He sees the hurt expression on my face and looks down feeling bad for his shortness.
“Bree this needs to stop,” is all he says before getting up and leaving, closing the door hastily behind him.
I stay on the floor in silence, my eyes still on the spot where I watched his boots disappear.
I can feel a lump forming in my throat but I refuse to let the tears fall again.
I don’t deserve to feel sorry for myself. I caused this.
* * *
I hesitate before I knock on the door to my parents’ room.
“Come in,” I hear my mother’s voice.
I turn the knob and walk in. Mother’s back is to me, brushing Jane’s hair in front of her. Jane is sitting on a stool facing the vanity and I can see the tense muscles in mother’s face in the reflection. She looks at me through the mirror, her eyes like daggers.
“What do you want Brianna?” she says, still fuming from earlier.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Sorry? pfft,” she huffs.
“Mommy’s mad at you!” Jane says with a giggle.
“Angel, it isn’t polite to taunt your sister,” she scolds Jane but she smiles at her in the mirror.
Jane giggles again and turns her attention to brushing her barbie’s hair in the same manner she’s getting her own hair brushed.
I resist the uneasiness I feel at the sight of their robotic resemblance.
“I am,” I insist. “I’m wearing the swimsuit you got me.”
Mother turns around and scans me head to toe.
“Under that?” She points with the brush to the old-oversized-Navy sweatshirt my dad gave me that I’m currently wearing as a cover-up.
“Yes,” I swear. “I’m just wearing something over it until I get there.”
“Let me see,” she commands.
“Right now?”
She huffs again.
“Yes Brianna. Today preferably,” she says impatiently.
I don’t want to stir up trouble again so I lift up my sweatshirt to reveal the bright yellow two-piece underneath. I feel a bit humiliated as I feel the cold air all around my torso and thighs.
“Was that so hard?” mother asks with an air of arrogance.
I immediately let down the sweatshirt and look into her eyes, careful not to show my disdain. I decide it’s better not to say anything so I look off to the side.
“Get your sister ready,” mother says to me. “Because of you I haven’t had time to get her ready, let alone finish the potato salad for Lilia’s party.”
I seriously doubt anyone would be missing that potato salad. Mother tries to add olives and some sort of relish thinking it gives it a nice flair but it’s just gross. I think the adults just put it on their plates to be nice, because I rarely see anyone attempt to actually eat it when she brings it to parties.
“Yes mom,” I obey without any resistance.
Mother gives me a look as if she expects I will have a sudden outburst. I stay calm and expressionless and she finally averts her attention back to Jane.
“Angel, pick out your bathing suit and a party dress, okay?” she coaxes her, sweetly.
“Okay mama!” Jane says as she hops off the stool and goes to search through her princess armoire.
“We’ll leave in half an hour,” mom says to me before leaving to the kitchen.
I sigh as a new thought occurs to me.
Thirty minutes before I have to face Lilia.
* * *
- Writer
