When Obedience Becomes Enslavement
rocery store flowers and a bag of fruit. It was a pathetic attempt at a peace offering. My dad let
said, his eyes pleading.
lat. We stood in the living room, a good ten fe
ck her out. She's my mom. Be
. The sacred text that governed h
o him. "If it comes down to a choice between me,
loor, at the ugly fruit basket, anywh
"Who do you choose, Mark
ance of his fate. "I have to choose my mom, Sarah. The agreement sa
ion I needed. The last nail
alk about," I said, my voice co
s. Mark looked stunned, as if the
n't be serious. We
istake of my life," I rep
hreat. Mark, looking defeated, tur
sed my key to let myself in. Eleanor was in the living
doing here?"
king past her. "And I'm mo
et, her makeup on the vanity, her frilly, old-fashioned decorations on the walls. I sta
face a mask of fury. "What do you t
p an armful of her clothes and carried them to the guest ro
of her out of my room. When I was done, I
else to live," I told her, my voice hard. "But you are
e master bedroom and lo
osive. She started pounding on the
ust come in here and take over? This i
c, distant noise. I lay on my bed, in my room, and f
tairs, still muttering to herself. A few minutes later, I heard Mark come home. I
e was a tentative knock
Can we
rack. "I have nothing
. she's v
and started to
o stop me. "She's wil
gize? That was impossib
I asked, s
She's agreed to stay in the gues
n my head. Eleanor Johnson did not back down. She did not compromise. If
I said, and closed the
n of desperation and the dramas I'd seen on TV, began to form. The next morning, while they were both
m, a central location where they had most of their conversations. It felt sneaky and dishonest
vorce lawyer in the city, a woman named Ms. Davis, known for being incre
my life, one strat
. A beat-up minivan was parked in the driveway, and the front doo
uggage was piled in the hall. The kids were running through the house, screaming
en holding court. "Surprise!" she said when she saw me.
lve hardening into steel. They had no i