Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
“GET O—!”
“Omma’s dying,” she shrieked. Sue punched the door and slammed it against the doorjamb—rattling the decayed building. “She’s dying, and she wants to see you before it’s too late! It’s the only thing she wants!”
Her screeching went in one ear and out the other. “Bullshit.” I finished chopping my vegetables and transferred them to the sauté pan. “That woman can’t die. She’ll survive on malice and self-righteousness long after the human race dies out.”
“Witty comeback as usual, Sarah, but this is serious.” I heard cautious footsteps approach the kitchen. “It’s cancer. She was diagnosed a couple years back. We thought she beat it, but then it came back hard. She doesn’t have long, and she knows it.”
I said nothing—engrossed in my cooking.
“She wants to see you before it’s too late.”
Silence.
“She’s our mother,” Sue cried. “The only parent we’ve got left— The only family we’ve got left other than each other. I tell you she’s dying and all you can do is stand there playing with your noodles?”
Still, I said nothing. I didn’t so much as lift my head.
“What is wrong with you!” A rough hand spun me around. “Do you think I’m lying or—”
“Yes.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Yes. I think you’re lying through your bleached teeth. You forget that I know you, Sue. I do,” I hissed, “and that’s why you’ve always hated me. Everyone else has looked at you and seen the pretty, sweet, charming person you’ve always pretended to be, but me...”
She backed away, expression hardening.
“I know you’re nothing but a monster in a candy-coated shell.” I flicked her forehead, making her jerk. “And you’re already starting to crack.”
Sue straightened, clearing her throat. “That’s very hurtful, Sarah, and completely uncalled for. I came here not as your enemy, but as your sister. Your only sister. All I want is for the three of us to be together one final time. Please, can’t you just for once leave the past in the past? What good is it doing you, sitting here in your hovel all day, frying up a side of resentment to make your Korean cheap eats go down easier?”
I clenched my teeth, fuming as my own words came back to haunt me. Fake-ass apologies like that put all the responsibility on me for what happened, instead of on you.
But, of course, Sue didn’t even apologize. Why would she when I was the one holding on to resentment and refusing to leave the past in the past? It really had to be nice in the mind of a narcissist. They got to live an entire lifetime never doing a single thing wrong—or so they would go to their graves swearing.
I smiled winningly. “Me and the past are living quite happily in this hovel. And I’ll have you know that resentment is a tasty spice, but my cheap eats don’t need it. I always was the better cook than you.”
“No, you weren’t!” she barked, lip curling.
I smiled wider.
Sue saw it and fixed her face in an instant, internally cursing herself for the slip—and I didn’t need to be in her head to know it.
I was eight years old when I figured out that my sister was a twisted, duplicitous snake. Nine when I stopped taking her crap, and made it my mission to ensure the world saw her for what she truly was. And ten when Omma realized that the only way for us to live in a peaceful home was for her to put Sue and me at opposite sides of it.
She cleared her throat. “You know what? Have it your way, Sarah. Pick a fight. Be a bitch. Whatever it takes for you to feel like you’re winning a game you’re only playing with yourself.
“The only reason I came was for Omma. She wants to see you before it’s too late. Are you coming or not?”
“Not,” I breezed, turning back to the stove.
“Why? Don’t you care about your own mother?”
“I would, if she were really dying.” My tone couldn’t be flatter. “But since you’re lying and she’s not, I’m not rushing off anywhere with you.”
She choked. “I— I’m not lying! What kind of a nutcase do you think I am? Do you really believe I’d come all this way just to make up a story about our mother being on her deathbed?”
“Yep,” I replied, popping the “p.”
She blew out a rough breath that tickled my hair. “Fuck’s sake— Fine,” she snapped. “I thought you’d make this difficult, so here.” I heard shuffling behind me. “I brought proof.”
“What proof?” I didn’t turn around. “Medical reports? Scans? Might as well put them away now because you could’ve easily doctored those. That’s not proof of anything.”
“Will you just look?”
My stirring slowed down. There’s no reason for me to look at anything she has to show me. Sue used to call Omma a poisonous prune whenever her back was turned, and I doubt her feelings toward her changed much in the last decade.