Thinking of that, I held my phone tight and pushed Mom away.
“Enough! I’m an adult, not a kid!”
“I work for what I earn. Stop bothering my boss!”
The push I gave wasn’t hard, yet Mom collapsed to the ground as if she had no bones, her body soft and fragile. When Dad and my older brother Martin stepped out of the bedroom, she was already crying, dabbing at her tears.
“Eleanor, I’m your real mother. How could I ever mean you harm? How could you treat me like this!”
I didn’t get a chance to speak before Dad’s hand slapped across my face.
“You heartless thing! Your mom loves you more than her own eyes, and this is how you repay her?”
Martin kicked me, glaring and shouting, “ungrateful wretch,” before rushing to help Mom to her feet.
“Don’t scold Eleanor anymore, it’s my fault. I just love her too much,” Mom said, still wiping at her tears, sighing endlessly.
“I know, Eleanor just thinks I’m old and useless, so she doesn’t take my words seriously. She even thinks I want to harm her deliberately!”
Watching her pitiful display, I couldn’t help but feel it was laughable. I had worked tirelessly since childhood, yet every major moment of my life had been sabotaged by Mom’s so-called kindness.