My teenage girl always ran straight to the bathroom after coming back from her dad’s place, and for three weeks, I tried to convince myself not to worry.
Then I discovered a ripped piece of her favorite shirt stuck by the shower drain.
It was made of light blue cotton and had little daisy flowers stitched along the edge. A dry, rusty-brown stain covered one side.
I just stood there barefoot on the bathroom floor, holding tweezers in one hand and that piece of cloth in the other, and my entire body felt freezing.
Mia and I picked it up at a secondhand shop a couple of months after the divorce was officially done. She held it against a foggy mirror and told me, “It makes me look like a girl who has her life figured out.”
I paid for it, even though my bank account really couldn’t afford it.
Now a piece of it was sitting right in my hand.
I grabbed my phone and dialed my ex-husband, Ryan.
He picked up after the fourth ring, sounding completely chill. “Hey, Chloe. Is everything alright?”
“No,” I replied. “Things are definitely not alright.”
He stayed quiet for a second. “What is going on?”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
“Chloe, I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Stop playing dumb,” I fired back. “Mia got back from your place and went straight into the shower once again.”
“She is fifteen years old. Teens take showers. Why are you turning this into a huge issue?”
“She steps inside the house and bolts the bathroom door before she even greets me, Ryan.”
He let out a breath. “Maybe she just wanted some space. Heaven forbid she actually gets some.”
“I pulled a piece of her blue shirt out of the drain.”
Quiet.
I stared at the rusty spot once more, and my voice trembled. “There is a brown mark on it.”
“It isn’t blood,” he answered fast.
“So you actually know what it is?”
More quiet on the line.
“Ryan.”
“It is just rust,” he explained. “From the cupboard hinge inside the spare bathroom. Mia mentioned it to me.”
“How exactly did her shirt get ripped on a cupboard hinge?”
“Chloe, it is not what you are imagining.”
“Then quit letting me imagine the absolute worst.”
“Alright,” he spoke softly. “Even though Mia pleaded with me to keep it a secret, you have to know what is actually going on.”
I held tightly onto the sink. “Then you better start talking.”
“It all began with Olivia.”
“Obviously it did.”
“Chloe.”
“No. Do not try to make it sound better. What did your new wife do?”
He stopped talking.
“Ryan?”
“I cannot do this over a call.”
“Are you joking right now?”
“No. I mean Mia requested that I do not tell you, and I have already messed that up. Come see me tomorrow. At the park next to the library. Nine o’clock.”
I nearly screamed at him. But instead, I glanced over at Mia’s bedroom. Her light was still shining.
“You get until nine,” I warned him. “And if I feel like you are covering up something that is hurting her, I will not ask you a second time.”
After that, I ended the call.
The following morning, I placed some pancakes on Mia’s dish, even though she normally just had toast before heading to classes.
She just looked at the food. “What is all this for?”
“A little bribe.”
“To get what?”
“The honest truth.”
She froze with her fork in the air.
I took a seat right across from her. “I discovered the shirt, Mia.”
All the color drained from her face. “You dug through my personal things?”
“I walked into the bathroom after you locked yourself inside for forty whole minutes.”
“I only wanted to take a shower.”
“Then explain why you showed up in somebody else’s sweatshirt.”
She stared at the table. “It was no big deal.”
“It got ripped.”
“I snagged it on an edge.”
“Over at Dad’s place?”
Tears quickly formed in her eyes. “Please do not turn this into a huge issue.”
“It is already a big deal.”
“No, Mom.” Her tone broke. “If you and Dad start fighting, things just get worse when I go over there.”
“What exactly gets worse?”
She shoved her food away. “Nothing at all.”
“You literally just told me things get worse.”
“I just meant things get weird.”
“That is definitely not what you meant.”
She got up and grabbed her school bag. “I need to leave.”
Right at the front door, she stopped.
“I really love Dad,” she admitted without looking back at me.
“I know you really do.”
“And I actually enjoy visiting his place sometimes. I love painting those weird little birdhouses he picks up at yard sales.”
“I understand.”
Her back grew stiff. “I just hate the person they expect me to be when I visit.”
After saying that, she walked out.
At nine o’clock, Ryan was sitting on a park seat next to the library, rubbing his hands against each other, even though it was not chilly out.
“Start talking,” I demanded.
He looked over at the quiet playground. “Olivia feels like Mia needs to be polished up.”
“She is a young girl, not some old piece of furniture you bought at a flea market.”
“She claims that Mia uses her messiness to hide.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Mia gets colors on her clothes because she actually feels happy over there sometimes. That is not being messy, Ryan. That is her making a memory.”
“I realize that.”
“Do you really?”
He flinched a little.
I took the ripped cloth out of my bag and placed it right between us on the seat.
“Explain exactly how this occurred.”
Ryan stared at it and gulped. “My mom and my sister were coming over for a meal. Olivia purchased a lacy dress for Mia.”
“Mia absolutely despises lace.”
“I mentioned that to Olivia.”
“But you did nothing to prevent it.”
His lips pressed together. “Mia would not put it on. Olivia told her she had to look nice for company. Mia backed up into the bathroom cupboard and snagged her top on the metal hinge.”
“And what about the brown spot?”
“Just rust.”
I shut my eyes for a brief moment.
I felt relieved before anything else.
Then I just felt mad.
“Why did you not phone me?”
“Mia pleaded with me not to tell.”
“She is just a kid. She should not have to keep grown-up secrets just because you are scared of an argument.”
“I was only trying to keep things calm.”
“Calm for exactly who?”
He turned his head away.
I leaned in closer to him. “Why does she rush straight into my shower the second she gets back from your place?”
Ryan massaged his forehead.
“Just spit it out.”
“Olivia sprays around some fragrance right before guests arrive.”
“She actually sprays it on Mia?”
“She refers to it as the final detail.”
“She is a person, not a visitor’s bathroom, Ryan.”
“I realize that.”
“No, you really do not. Not if you just sit there and let her do it.”
“She claims that Mia smells exactly like your place,” he admitted.
I completely froze.
“As if my home is something gross?”
He stayed completely silent.
I grabbed the torn cloth back.
“You allowed some other woman to make our kid feel like she had to scrub my scent off her body.”
“Chloe…”
“No. You showed Mia that Olivia’s feelings were way more important than her own comfort.”
His eyes grew a bit red. “I made a huge mistake.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You absolutely did.”
Later that Sunday, Ryan sent me a message telling me to stay away from his place.
I drove over there regardless.
I did not bother going through the rear gate; I just used the spare key Ryan never took back and stepped right through his main entrance.
“Mia?” I shouted out.
Nobody replied.
I headed up the stairs and discovered her standing inside the spare bedroom.
She was standing right in front of a rigid, flower-patterned dress dangling from the wardrobe handle. Her favorite blue daisy shirt lay on the mattress, ripped by the arm. Her fingers were balled up into tight fists.
“Mom?” Pure terror washed over her expression. “Why did you come over?”
“To bring you back home if you are ready to leave.”
“Please do not make a scene,” she murmured. “They are all waiting downstairs.”
“That is not what I asked you.”
She stared at the ugly outfit. “Olivia told me Grandma prefers girls who actually try to look nice.”
“You are not some table decoration.”
“She claims Dad feels ashamed whenever I arrive with messy fingernails.”
Before I could even respond, Ryan showed up in the doorway holding a pair of grilling tongs.
“Chloe,” he warned. “Do not do this here.”
“Yes,” I fired back. “Right here.”
“Mia, head downstairs now.”
Mia stayed completely still.
Right then, Olivia popped up right behind him, wearing her flawless fake smile.
“Chloe,” she greeted. “What a total surprise to see you.”
“I bet it is.”
“We were simply assisting Mia in getting dressed for our lunch.”
“No,” I corrected her. “You were attempting to mold her into a person that is easier for you to stare at.”
Her grin grew very stiff. “That is a horrible thing to claim.”
“Then quit doing horrible things behind my back.”
Olivia folded her arms across her chest. “I purchased a pretty dress for her. There is absolutely nothing wrong with showing a young lady how to present herself.”
“Mia deserves to be respected.”
“I actually respect her enough to be honest with her.”
“Your version of honesty seems to involve cheap perfume and humiliation.”
Mia whispered my name, “Mom.”
I turned my attention to her. “You do not have to explain a thing.”
But she went ahead anyway.
“She actually sprays it on me.”
Ryan tightly shut his eyes.
Olivia let out a gentle chuckle. “It is just a fragrance.”
Mia’s voice wobbled. “You force me to stand completely still while you do it.”
Ryan’s voice went low. “Mia…”
I spun around to face him. “Do not threaten her for speaking the absolute truth.”
Olivia raised her head. “I simply offered her some perfume. That is not being mean.”
Mia’s lips were shaking, but she did not reply.
I stared straight at Ryan. “And you just stood by and watched?”
He kept his eyes on the carpet.
His silence told me everything I needed to know.
I grabbed Mia by the hand. “We are heading out.”
Down on the ground floor, the back patio had fallen completely silent.
Ryan’s mom was sitting at the outdoor table. Grace, Ryan’s sister, was staring at Mia rather than looking at me.
“Mia?” Grace questioned her. “Sweetie, what is going on?”
Before Mia even had a chance to speak, Olivia brushed right past both of us with that polished grin on her face.
“Nothing is wrong,” she declared cheerfully. “Chloe just barged in here in a mood, and now sweet Mia feels stressed out.”
“No,” I countered. “I drove over here to get my kid.”
Olivia looked down at the flower dress bunched in Mia’s grip.
“Mia, darling,” she cooed, “do you not want to slip into that outfit? Remember our chat about making a good first impression.”
Mia’s hands gripped the fabric even harder.
“She already made a great impression,” I stated.
Olivia batted her eyelashes. “Pardon me?”
“She arrived here exactly as she is.”
Grace placed her glass on the table. “Olivia, why does this poor girl look totally terrified to talk to you?”
“She is not scared of me,” Olivia defended herself. “She just feels awkward because her mom allows her to rebel against every single boundary.”
“By spraying her with perfume?” I challenged her.
Ryan’s mom raised her head quickly. “Perfume?”
Mia released her grip on my fingers.
Rather than cowering behind my back, she took a brave step forward, still holding onto that hideous outfit.
“I have to shower the second I get back home,” she announced, her tone quivering, “because the scent stays on my skin.”
Olivia’s expression grew harsh. “Mia.”
“No,” Mia pushed back. “I am going to say this.”
The entire patio fell dead quiet.
“Every single time I visit this house, there is always a problem with me. My hairstyle. My pants. The art stains on my clothing.”
Grace turned toward Ryan. “Did you actually know about this?”
Ryan gulped hard. “I was aware that Olivia preferred her to look a bit neater.”
Mia spun around to face her dad. “She told me that Mom allows me to look and smell exactly like I was raised in a broken family.”
Ryan’s mother let out a loud gasp.
Olivia tilted her chin up. “That is not the way I intended it to sound.”
Mia brushed a tear off her face. “But that is exactly how you phrased it.”
Every single person stared right at Ryan.
He kept his eyes glued to the grass.
Finally, he mumbled, “She did say that. And I really should have put an end to it.”
Grace crossed her arms tightly. “Yeah. You absolutely should have.”
“No,” Mia argued, looking straight at Ryan. “You completely miss the point. I actually enjoy visiting when it feels like your space. But then Olivia glares at me as if I am just a mess you neglected to sweep away.”
Ryan winced. “Mia, I am so sorry.”
I moved right between the two of them before he could try to grab her arm. “Apologies only count once you quit forcing your own kid to pay an emotional toll just to exist in your home.”
Olivia let out a mocking sound. “That is totally unreasonable.”
“No,” I snapped, pivoting toward her. “Unreasonable is dousing a kid in perfume just because she smells like her mom’s house. Unreasonable is labeling your control issues as ‘standards.’ Unreasonable is making her feel tiny while acting like you are just teaching her manners.”
Olivia opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again.
Ryan’s mother got up from her chair very slowly. “Mia, come over to me, darling.”
Mia checked with me before moving.
I gave her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”
“I am not trying to fix your appearance,” Ryan’s mother promised softly. “I merely want to show you a little something.”
She lifted one of her hands. A faint stripe of gray pottery clay was stuck right under her pink nail polish.
“I do pottery,” she explained. “Terribly, honestly. But I absolutely love doing it.”
After that, she turned her gaze to Olivia.
“Being a little messy never made any young woman less deserving of love,” my former mother-in-law stated clearly. “I apologize for not being around very often, sweetie. But I promise to be here from now on. I never once asked Olivia to mold you. I adore you exactly as you are.”
Grace stared directly into Olivia’s eyes. “Certain folks just mix up looking neat with actually having a good personality.”
Mia faced Ryan once more. “I will come see you, Dad. But I am not sleeping over anymore until I am allowed to wear my own outfits and just be myself.”
Ryan gave a slow nod. “Understood. I will work hard to win your trust back.”
On the drive back, Mia mumbled, “I really wanted him to choose me.”
“He absolutely should have done that,” I replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And until he figures out how to do that, I always will.”
Later that evening, I did a terrible job of sewing her blue shirt back together right at our dining table.
Mia ran her fingers over the messy stitches. “Thank you, Mom. But it is basically ruined at this point, right?”
“It just looks honest now.”
The following Sunday, Mia got back from her dad’s place, stopped for a second by the front hall, and then wandered right into the kitchen area.
“Are we having baked ziti for dinner?” she wondered aloud.
Down the corridor, the door to the bathroom remained wide open.