She doesn't want to go to Speech Night- and it's all my fault.
He told her she was behaving irrationally, they argued- and it's all my fault.
This family is breaking apart, according to her, and it's all my fault.
Was it the mere fact of my birth? What did I do, to cause this cataclysmic chain of events?
I will admit that I ought not, perhaps, have argued the point with her so often- but I will not make the apology she requests, because I have not done anything wrong. I will not apologise for refusing to be bullied, for finally showing some backbone. For three weeks she has glared, raged, scowled, insulted, muttered darkly. Offers of help fall on cynically deaf ear.. "yeah, sure..". The finished task brings nothing but yet another criticism, or more angry silence. Three Weeks, two illnesses, five exams- and not one kind word. Nothing is good enough. I clean the bathroom- I ought to have put away the ironing. I put away the ironing- I ought to have tidied the back-room. I tidy the backroom and I should be off finding something or other. The fact that I am still here, that I have not moved out, am not at school or out shopping- seems enough to move her to a violent rage.
But, it's not her fault. No. Never. It's mine, predictably. I''m "a pathetic little child" an "obnoxious bitch", stupid, irresponsible, breaking the family unit apart. It's my fault they are arguing.
What does she see herself as, I wonder?