The Mixtape by Brittainy C. Cherry

23

EMERY

Five Years Ago

They were going to disown her before she even parted her lips. I knew that the moment Sammie told me about her pregnancy. She knew it too. That was the truth about who our parents were. They set their judgmental opinions down before they offered compassion, no matter what. Theo and Harper Taylor weren’t millennials, by any means, but they were well versed in cancel culture. They’d canceled my aunt Judy for getting a divorce. They shunned the gospel choir director for having photographs online of herself at a Drake concert.

They’d belittle children who celebrated Halloween.

I’d never met two souls who placed judgment like they placed prayers—every morning and night.

Sammie’s hands weren’t shaking, because she was frozen still as I sat beside her on the sofa in Mama and Dad’s living room. I’d gone off to college two years before and had felt a heavy amount of conflicted emotions the day I left home to attend a culinary school in Los Angeles. I cried two sets of tears the first night I’d stayed in my dorm room. First, tears of relief from the fact that Mama couldn’t place her words of disappointment over me every single day for random reasons, and Dad couldn’t hold his hand of disapproval up in front of my face.

The second set of tears I shed were for Sammie. She was left alone with our parents now, with no safe haven to escape to when she needed to hide away. In the past when our parents were too harsh, Sammie would sneak into my bedroom and we’d listen to music on my laptop, sharing earbuds. Mama didn’t like when we listened to anything other than gospel music—so we always made sure to listen at night, when our parents were fast asleep.

Our current favorite artists were Alex & Oliver. They were soul music mixed with pop with not a drop of clichés. Sure, they only had two albums out, but those albums were the cure to every broken piece of our hearts.

I didn’t know what my sister would go through without me being home with her. Unlike me, Sammie was sensitive. While our parents’ judgments didn’t affect me, because I had thick skin, I knew how their words slithered beneath my sister’s skin, infecting her thoughts and mind.

From a young age, I’d understood how thoughts created outcomes, so I tried my best to keep my mind clear. Sammie wasn’t like that, though. She cared so much about what people thought of her. She was a people pleaser through and through, doing anything and everything to be loved by the world—mostly by our parents.

The worst part was that she craved love and acceptance from two people who were unable to give her what she was looking for. My parents were two narcissists who hid their true, heartless colors behind their religion. They strove with their religious beliefs to condemn people, instead of showing them love.

Dad’s face was grim after Sammie spoke her truths to him and Mama. My little sister had come to me first when everything unfolded. She called me to her side, and I drove all the way from California back to Oregon to help her during her storms.

She was pregnant at eighteen years old. Even if my sister was deemed an adult by age, Sammie was merely a child herself. There was such an innocence to her that she seemed too gentle for a world as harsh as ours.

She waited a week before she told our parents about the pregnancy. Seven days passed before she felt comfortable enough to share the news that had taken place in her life. I hated that she’d told them, thinking our parents would give her the comfort her soul was begging for. Instead, she received disgust.

“You’re a statistic,” Mama commented. “We raised you well and pushed you hard to make you the complete opposite of this. You were on your way to an Ivy League school, and you threw it away. For what? For this mistake?”

“Mama, be easy—” I started, but I was instantly cut off.

“Stay out of this, Emery. Lord knows you are probably the one who influenced your sister to act out this way.”

“Wait, what?”

“You think I didn’t find the pack of cigarettes under your mattress after you moved out to college? You’ve been a troublemaker from the beginning, and poor Sammie’s probably taken after some of your sinful ways.”

“This has nothing to do with Emery, Mama. Really,” Sammie said, defending me. She was wasting her breath, though. It was no secret that my parents saw me as the troubled child and Sammie as the saint. I’d come to terms with that many moons ago.

“It’s Devin’s?” Mama asked. Dad was standing behind her with his arms crossed and a look of coldness behind his eyes. Most people feared when their parents spoke, but it was quite the opposite for me with my father. His silence terrified me more than any words ever could. My father could make a person feel like nothing, simply with a blink of his eyes.

I’d been nothing to that man more often than not.

It was scary that those looks of coldness were now being directed toward Sammie—his pride and joy.

Sammie didn’t answer Mama’s question, but it was the only thing that made sense, for it to be Devin’s child.

Devin was the pastor’s son, the one who would someday take over the church down the line, and he and Sammie had been high school sweethearts. Out of everyone in the world, Devin was the only boy my parents approved of Sammie being with. I wasn’t allowed to date in high school, but Sammie could, because she found Devin. A boy of God.

If anyone would’ve been more upset about the pregnancy than our parents, it would’ve been Devin’s. They were the definition of strict. I would’ve been surprised if poor Devin even knew what sex was. My parents’ reaction was probably tame compared to his parents’.

“Do you know what that will do to that boy’s life? You’ll ruin his whole future,” Mama scolded, and in that moment I hated her a little. My parents were more loyal to the church than they were to their own children. “What will people think of us?”

“I-it’s not his,” Sammie said as her voice shook.

All of our eyes widened in shock. That was a surprise to me, to say the least.

Mama cocked an eyebrow. “Then who’s the father?”

Sammie lowered her head and didn’t speak.

That only made things worse.

Mama cringed from the silence. “You don’t know, do you? You went out running around town like a little hooker—”

“Mama!” I cried out, disgusted.

“Stay out of this, Emery. I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re not wanted during this conversation,” she said so coldly. “You haven’t been wanted for a very long time.”

A rush of air left my lungs. I felt that one. It felt as if Mama had slammed her fist straight into my chest.

Where Dad abused with his stares, Mama’s power was through her words. Mama spent her whole life working inside a library, and it was as if she’d learned how to use her words to hurt others. If only she’d learned a few words from her Bible, then maybe things would’ve been different.

Calling her daughter a little hooker? Telling her other child that she was unwanted?

Seemed a bit unholy to me, but who was I to say?

“Don’t talk to her like that,” I ordered.

“Watch your tone, Emery Rose,” Mama demanded right back.

“Watch your words,” I replied as my hand rested against Sammie’s shaky forearm. I wanted her to feel my closeness to her. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.

Mama’s black-as-coal eyes locked with mine. I hated how much I looked like that woman. From our doe eyes to our full lips and kinky hair, we were identical. She aged slowly, too, and often looked as if she could’ve been an older sister to me. I hated that when I looked into mirrors, I saw my mother’s face. That face had disapproved of me and my sister for so long, to the point that the way she pouted triggered something tragic in my chest.

Mama narrowed her stare. “Don’t give me that slick college mouth, Emery. You may not live under my roof anymore, but you will not step foot into this house and act as if you are some independent woman who’s out there taking the world by storm. Don’t you forget who’s paying for that free life of yours in California.”

I went to argue with her, because unlike Sammie, I wasn’t afraid to speak up to my mother. Yet, before words could leave my mouth, my father held up a stern hand toward me, silencing me.

Within seconds, I was quiet. Even though Mama wasn’t scary, in my eyes, my father had a way of intimidating me with a simple wave of his hand. He hadn’t even needed to say anything to me. That simple hand raise to quiet a situation always sent chills down my spine in the most disturbing way.

My father never liked me. Sammie always disagreed whenever I’d say that, but that was simply her being nice. It was clear as day to me that my father didn’t have a drop of love for me, but he did love my sister.

While I looked like Mama, Sammie was Dad’s twin. They had the same nose, same ears, and same dimples. They were both tall and slim too. Their brown skin was shades lighter than mine and Mama’s. It wasn’t only physical features the two had in common; they also shared many hobbies together. They loved watching sports together. I was almost certain Sammie had joined the basketball team simply to appease our father.

One night, after a victorious game where she was the leading scorer, Sammie told me that she didn’t even love playing. When I told her she should quit, she laughed, saying Dad would never forgive her if she walked away from the court.

My sister was so obsessed with pleasing our parents that she never took a second to please herself.

Except for four months ago.

Except for when she’d finally put her hair down and allowed herself to be free.

And that was when everything took a turn for the worse.

“Explain yourself,” Dad commanded of Sammie.

Sammie’s gaze rose from the carpet she’d been staring at for the past ten minutes. Her lips parted to speak, and I hated how they were looking at her as if she was anything less than their daughter.

How were we both born from two people who were so cruel?

I stood close to Sammie and squeezed her hand, letting her know that still she wasn’t alone. “I’m here, Sammie,” I whispered. She lightly squeezed my hand back, and then she began speaking as we all listened closely.

“I went to a party with a few girls from the basketball team. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but I wanted to be a normal kid for one night. So, I let loose. I . . . there—there was this guy . . . ,” she softly whispered, her voice trembling.

I stood up straighter and tilted my head. “What happened?”

“He asked me if I wanted to hook up. I said no to him. I know I was a little bit not myself, but I said no to him. Over and over again, I said no as he pinned me . . . as he undressed me . . . as he . . .”

Raped her . . . ?

No. Not Sammie. Not my baby sister.

“Do you know who it was, Sammie?” I asked as rage simmered beneath my skin.

“No . . . it was some college guy. That was how we got to talking. He was telling me how he was a big shot at his college, how he loved living away from home, and how I’d love it too. I-I never thought he’d—I thought . . .”

Her words faltered, and the pain in her brown eyes was deeper than the ocean.

“Did you get tested?” I asked. “Did you go to the hospital?”

She shook her head. “No. I . . . I didn’t mean for it to happen—”

“Were you showing off your body?” Mama asked.

“Mama!” I snapped, rage shooting through my whole system. My entire mind twisted at my mother’s question. What in the world did that have to do with anything that Sammie was telling us?

“Answer her,” Dad ordered.

Sammie shook her head. “No, I wasn’t. I was hanging out with my friends, Susie and Ruby.”

Mama huffed. “Those sinners who don’t do anything but play on their phones during church services. Of course. Were you drinking at the party? What in the world would make you think you should’ve even been at a party? Do you have any clue how this is going to make Devin look? How it will make us look? Goodness, I doubt we’ll even be able to step foot inside of that church again.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped. “Did you not hear what happened to Sammie? What she just told us?”

They both ignored me. Looking past me as if I didn’t exist. Instead of being worried about the church, they should’ve been horrified by the trauma their daughter had experienced.

“I—I . . .” Sammie took a deep breath as I laced my fingers with hers and squeezed her hand slightly. Still here, Sammie. You’re not alone. “The girls from the basketball team threw me an eighteenth birthday party. It was a surprise. I didn’t know it was happening until I showed up.”

“Did you drink?” Mama asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you do drugs?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But you were stupid enough to let a boy take advantage of you because you were running around like a little hussy with your whore friends. I mean, seriously, Samantha Grace, what did you expect to happen? You were pretty much throwing yourself into these men’s faces and—”

“Shut up, Harper,” Dad cut in, scolding his own wife. I wasn’t shocked that he’d told her to shut her mouth, because my father was a professional at putting my mother down. He belittled her all the time whenever he got the chance. If dysfunctional was a love story, it would be Theo and Harper Taylor’s. “I’m getting sick of your monologues today.”

Mama didn’t say a word. Embarrassment flashed across her face. The only person in the world who could make Mama feel worthless was Dad, and he made sure to make her feel that way every chance he got. She took his verbal beatings too. Almost as if she didn’t know anything else. Mama never seemed the type to be afraid of anyone. I swore, sometimes I thought she could stand up to the devil and not break a sweat. Yet with Dad, she always fell submissively to her knees before him.

Toxicity at its finest.

At least he was stopping her from putting down Sammie. At least it seemed as if he was doing the right thing, until he spoke again.

“You need to leave,” Dad said as he stared my way.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. “I think Sammie needs me here.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Emery. I was talking to your sister. Samantha, you need to pack your bags and go.”

“What . . . but Daddy . . .” Sammie’s eyes welled with tears. She always called him Daddy, because she was his little princess.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped at her; his eyes that often looked on her with pure love were filled with nothing but distaste. “Go pack some bags and leave. I will not sit here and have you showcase your mistakes in front of me, in front of this town, and ruin our reputation. Leave.”

Mama’s eyes softened for a split second before they iced over just like Dad’s.

When did it happen?

What year was it when my parents became monsters who pushed their children away?

When did they give themselves to the darkness and pretend that they were praising God?

“Where . . . where will I go?” Sammie asked as her voice cracked with fear.

“How about to the house of the boy who did this to you? It’s not really our concern, now, is it?” Mama snapped, her words filled with disgust. She turned her body away from Sammie, as if the simple act of looking at the child she’d brought into this world was too hard for her soul to handle.

It wasn’t long before Dad turned his back on her too. Without thought, Sammie crumbled as she rushed over to Dad’s side. She threw herself at his feet and wrapped her arms around his legs, begging, pleading for him to reconsider. Praying that he’d change his mind about disowning the one child who seemed to never have let him down.

“Daddy, please, you don’t understand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Let me go, Samantha,” he ordered, his tone smoky and harsh. My father never smoked a day in his life, but his voice held a grittiness as if he’d smoked a pack a day for the past forty years.

“No. I won’t let go. Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. I love you, Daddy, and we can fix this. We can do whatever it takes. Please. Please,” Sammie cried, and with each plea, my heart ached for her.

Dad didn’t show any signs of pity, just disgust.

I walked over and wrapped my hand around Sammie’s forearm. “Let go, Sammie. Come on. Let’s go.”

“No. I won’t let go. Look at me, Daddy. Please,” she said, but he wouldn’t. What kind of monster could be so cruel?

“Get up, Sammie, please.” I yanked on her arm. “You don’t need to ever beg for anyone’s love. Not even his.”

“You should leave, too,” Dad told me.

“Trust me, I am. I don’t want to be here to begin with.”

Once I was able to get Sammie to let go of Dad’s leg and pull her to a standing position, Dad finally built up enough nerve to look her way. “You did this to yourself.” With that, he and Mama exited the room.

There was something so disgustingly vile about the two humans who’d raised us.

Sammie’s whole body broke into uncontrollable shivers. A weighted cry broke from between her lips as she covered her mouth from shock and despair. If I wasn’t there, she would’ve crumbled to the ground and shattered into a million pieces of brokenness. If I wasn’t around, Sammie would’ve hit rock bottom before her mind had had a chance to catch up with the fact that she was falling.

Yet I was there, so into my arms was where she fell.

“I got you, Sammie. I got you,” I promised. She held on to my shirt and began sobbing into my arms.

“Where will I go?” she cried. She was so young, so innocent, at only the beginning stages of her life. She was supposed to be going off to college in the fall and getting her breath of freedom away from our parents. She was supposed to become a doctor. She was supposed to succeed in ways that I never could’ve.

Sammie did everything right, as far as giving Mama and Dad exactly what they’d expected of her. She showed up to church every Sunday and Bible study on Wednesdays. She volunteered at food shelters on her weekends and had received straight As throughout her whole school career. During the summers, she went on mission trips. My little sister was exceptional in every way possible. Even though I was older than her, I looked up to Sammie and her ability to succeed with nothing less than a smile against her lips. My sister was always the definition of success. She was our parents’ golden child, and in her moment of need, they tagged her as fool’s gold and tossed her back into the stream.

“With me,” I promised, holding her close to me as I comforted her the way our parents should’ve. “You’ll come stay with me in the dorms. Then, when the time is right, we’ll get an apartment together. Don’t worry, Sammie. You’re not alone in this. You’re never going to be alone in this.”

She didn’t reply, because her tears were too consuming. Her body shook as I walked her to her childhood bedroom to gather the essentials that we’d take away with us. I packed her bags for her, because she was too much in a state of shock to do much of anything.

When I was finished packing up her things, I walked her to the car and placed her in the passenger seat. “I’m just going to get your last bag. I’ll be right back,” I told her.

She didn’t reply as she stared forward into the darkening sky before us.

I walked back inside the four walls that had witnessed me grow up and paused at the front door when I saw Mama pulling the suitcase to the front door. She had a scowl sitting against her lips that made her appear ten years older than her actual age.

“Here,” she said, shoving the suitcase my way.

I didn’t say a word, because I knew if I spoke to my mother, nothing decent would fall from my lips. I was standing before a woman who had no love inside her heart. I knew it was pointless to try to argue with her.

“You did this to her, you know,” Mama stated, making me turn back to face her.

“Excuse me?”

“You did this. You were always a bad example to your sister. You were always the troubled child, and she had to watch you grow up. Your sins infected her.”

I narrowed my eyes, baffled by her words. “I’m sorry—are you somehow finding a way to blame me for Sammie being pregnant?”

“If the shoe fits. If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have even known about these kinds of things.”

I laughed. “You mean parties? Sorry, Mother, I’m pretty sure she would’ve found out about parties with or without me.”

“Your sins are what led her here. You did this. I bet whatever outfit she wore that night she found in your closet.”

My jaw slacked opened as shock skyrocketed through my system. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If she was showing off her body in a provocative way, that would make boys—”

“What is the matter with you?” I snapped, cutting her off. I couldn’t take any more of listening to Mama’s radical beliefs. Was she victim-shaming? Was she blaming my sister for the horrific act that had happened to her body? That had happened to her soul?

How dare she.

“The truth is, Sammie could’ve walked into that house party completely butt naked, and it still wouldn’t have given that animal enough reason to put his hands on her. He raped her, Mama. A disgusting boy took advantage of my sister, and he raped her body. He raped her heart. And somehow you are saying she’s to blame for the acts that happened to her, due to her outfit? Are you insane?”

“It wasn’t only her outfit. She put herself in that situation by showing up to a party. She made herself prey. If she didn’t—”

“If she didn’t what? Exist? Would you rather her live in a bubble? Would you rather she wore a potato bag? You are fucking insane and—”

Slap.

Mama’s palm flew across my cheek, making me stumble backward. My heart raced in my chest as shock filled me up inside. Even though my mother was cruel, she’d never laid a hand on me. She’d never crossed that line until that very moment.

“Mama,” I choked out as tears formed in my eyes.

“Don’t come to my house cussing like you ain’t got no sense. How dare you, Emery. This is a house of God.”

She was batshit crazy. Delusional to the truths that surrounded her.

“I hope I never see you again,” I whispered before walking away with my hand still on my stinging cheek. I couldn’t listen to her anymore. Hell, I couldn’t look at her. Besides, Sammie needed me. I didn’t have time to deal with my abusive mother.

We drove back to California, and the ride was completely silent, because I didn’t have the right words to give to my sister. It was late into the night once we arrived at my dorm, and Sammie refused to eat anything. I skipped dinner too. We were close in that way—when her stomach was in knots, my stomach ached too.

We lay in the small twin-size bed beside one another, staring at the ceiling and not speaking a word. I reached for my cell phone and headphones and handed one of the earbuds to Sammie as I placed the other in my ear. Without question, I began playing Alex & Oliver’s first album, the one that had gotten me through some of the hardest times in my life. Alex and Oliver Smith’s voices had a way of healing through the headphones. Their words fixed parts of my soul that I hadn’t even known were broken.

We still weren’t speaking, but tears were rolling down Sammie’s cheeks as her eyes remained closed and the powerful duo soothed her.

She fell asleep in my arms, but I couldn’t do the same. Not after learning what had happened to my innocent little sister. Sammie’s breaths fell from between her slightly parted lips. I studied the swollen bags sitting beneath her eyes from crying.

In that moment, I promised myself I’d never abandon her like our parents had done.

I’d be by her side throughout every storm, no matter what.