Loving The Wrong Brother

Hi, my name is Lily and my life is a rollercoaster of drama.

Aside from the time I was sent away to boarding school when I was twelve, this would be the third time Martha and I were leaving a man’s house behind.

Martha is my mother. At least, biologically.

But the word mother had always felt too warm for what she was to me. The word was too comforting and too loving for her.

Martha had never really cared about me. Not in the way mothers in movies do. The ones who asked about your day, remembered your favorite food, or sat beside you when things fell apart.

She cared about appearances. She cared about survival. She cared about whatever shiny new life she thought she deserved next.

But me?

I was more like the luggage she dragged along from one destination to another.

Her pattern had always been the same. She would meet a man. She would marry him quickly. We would move into his house like we belonged there. For a year or two, everything would look perfect from the outside.

Then something happens.

A fight. A betrayal. A secret. Or at least that’s what Martha always claimed.

Next thing I know, we’re packing again. Another man erased from our lives like he never existed.

And somehow, I was always the one paying the price.

Because of Martha’s reckless life choices, I missed school twice already.

Not a few weeks or few months. I missed the entire year, twice.

Two different times I had to stay home while my life stood still. While other people my age moved forward. While I sat alone with textbooks, teaching myself because my mother was too busy rebuilding whatever new version of her life she wanted next.

Now here we are again.

Another car ride to a fresh start like she called it.

But to me, it was another lie dressed up as an opportunity.

Except this time, instead of moving into another man’s house we’re driving toward the one she bought herself.

With money she definitely didn’t earn. The money she took from her ex-husband before walking away from that marriage.

Martha called it “a settlement.”

I called it stolen money because that's what it was.

And apparently that stolen money just bought us a house in the quiet little neighborhood she keeps insisting will be perfect for me.

As if stability was something you could just purchase with someone else’s bank account.

I leaned my head against the window as the car rolled forward.

I might be moving into a new neighborhood and a new house. But it will always be the same Martha and the same reckless life.

“You know why I chose this place,” she said, glancing at me briefly before looking back at the road, “I actually grew up around here.”

I didn’t answer her. I wasn't in the mood to have a conversation with her but she kept talking anyway.

“This neighborhood used to be everything when we were younger. Safe, friendly… everyone knew everyone. I always thought if I had a child, this is the kind of place I’d want them to grow up in.”

I'd be eighteen in a few months and she's talking about growing up. I'm a grown up and no environment could influence anything in my life anymore. It's just another place to pretend that we're normal.

Martha continued like she was giving me a motivational speech.

“I bought this house for you, Lily. I wanted you to have stability,” she said.

I turned my head slowly and looked at her.

“For me?”

She nodded proudly. “Yes. I thought you deserved somewhere peaceful and permanent. You won't have to be moving around anymore.”

I scoffed.

“Wow.”

She frowned, her gaze moved from the road to me. “What?” she asked.

“I don’t remember asking you to move us here.”

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Lily,” she started but I didn't give her the chance to say more.

“And I definitely don’t remember asking you to marry three different men and drag me along every time it didn’t work out.”

“You can't say that to your mother,” she said.

“Maybe my mother should stop using me as an excuse to get her own goals,” I snapped.

Martha inhaled slowly like she was practicing patience.

“I know the past few years haven’t been easy,” she said carefully. “But everything I’ve done has been for you.”

This particular statement was her memory verse.

I looked back out the window.

“Sure,” I muttered, hoping she would just shut up and drive.

“You needed a home,” she continued. “You needed a place where you could finally settle down and focus on school. That’s why I bought this house.”

And her voice had that tone again. The one she used when she wanted to sound like the perfect mother.

I didn’t buy it. The last time I bought it was when she abandoned me in a boarding school.

I didn't respond.

The car hummed softly as we passed another line of perfectly built houses.

“You can't keep quiet, Lily,” she said. “It is called a conversation.”

I turned to her. “What else do you want me to say? I asked. “Thank you for getting yourself a house after divorce number three?” I said that quietly.

But she heard and her jaw tightened instantly..

“Lily.”

“What?” I shrugged slightly. “I’m just keeping track of everything you do. Someone had to remind you.”

She exhaled sharply.

“For someone who stayed home for two years, I thought you’d be grateful I’m giving you another chance to finish school properly.”

That one hit harder than I expected, but I didn't respond.

The car turned one last corner.

Then the estate opened up fully. Long, quiet streets with perfectly trimmed lawns and rows of houses that looked almost exactly the same.

The car slowed as we turned into the estate, the tires crunching softly over the gravel road. I stared out the window, watching rows of identical houses pass by like they were copied and pasted from the same blueprint.

Martha tapped the steering wheel as if she was proud of the place.

After a few minutes, she finally pulled into a driveway and stopped the car.

“There,” she said softly.

I looked up.

A neat two-story house stood in front of us with white walls and large windows. The lawn was freshly cut, and the front porch had two small flower pots.

She turned off the engine and looked at me. Her expression shifted from proud to serious.

“Listen to me, Lily.”

I didn’t respond but I met her gaze.

“I know you’re upset. I know you think I’ve made mistakes, but we’re here now because this is our new start.”

Her eyes searched mine for understanding, but I gave her an expressionless stare.

“So do me a favor when we get out of this car.”

She paused.

“Be a nice girl and lose that bitchy attitude. It doesn't suit you.”

I stared at her for a moment before looking at the house again.

Something about the place made my stomach twist, but I had no choice than to accept the perfect opportunity my mother was giving me.

I stepped out of the car and shut the door. Martha did the same.

“Welcome home, Lily,” she said.