Dad pulled back to strike her.

“Go ahead,” said Mom, reaching over to snatch something off the shelf above the sink. “You go ahead and you hit me just as hard as you want.” With a flick of her wrist the pearl-handled straight-razor revealed its shiny contents. “But you try to flush this toilet again, I’ll open you from stem to sternum, so help me God!”

Lucy reached up and took hold of her mother’s free hand. She was shocked at how strong Mom’s grip was, and how much her touch helped.

“P-please, D-Daddy,” she said. “Please leave us alone.”

One breath. For one breath she saw his face soften at hearing her call him “Daddy,” then the Bastard came back, stronger than before.

“This’s God’s punishment on you, girl. I’ll leave the two of you to do...what needs to be done. But you hear this: You ain’t no daughter of mine anymore. I want you out of this house by tomorrow night.”

“Then I’ll go with her,” said Mom.

“Suits me just fine.”

“See how well it suits you at the end of the month when you won’t have her paycheck coming in.”

No words between them after that, only gleaming hatred from their eyes, only the ice-pick in Lucy’s throat.

Dad stormed out of the bathroom, then out of the house. A few seconds later the sound of his pickup truck roaring to life pierced the silence, followed by squealing tires.

“Write when you get work,” said Mom. Then: “We gotta get you cleaned up and over to the hospital.”

They managed to temporarily staunch the worst of the bleeding with a knot of Kotex pads, then Lucy’s mother spent a minute mopping away the blood on the floor, all the time checking with her daughter to make sure the bleeding hadn’t worsened.

“I’ll go get...uh, a few things, hon. Why don’t you come out and lay down on the couch?”

“No. I’ll just...wait here.”

“Do you think you ought to—?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.”

Mom quickly returned with a plastic ladle and a large, clear plastic freezer bag. “I poured some rubbing alcohol on the ladle so it’d be sterile and this bag’s got one of them airtight seals, see? I figure something like this would be best.” She opened the lid and knelt down.

“Mom?”

“What is it, hon?”

“I’d like to do it.”

“Want me to stay here with you?”

“No, that’s all right.”

“You gonna be okay?” Her mother was on the verge of tears, so heartbroken was she over her daughter’s pain and loss.

“I’ll be fine,” said Lucy, placing her hand against her mother’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Mom’s eyes misted over. “You don’t gotta thank me, hon. You’re my little girl. I’d do anything for you. Don’t you pay any mind to anything he said, all those names he called you. I’m not ashamed of you and never have been. You’ve never been a disappointment to me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She was stunned by the sudden, deep rush of affection she felt toward this woman who she’d secretly laughed at and pitied so many times. A rocking chair in the shadows at day’s end with a glass of whiskey and some sappy Nat King Cole records; the measure of her happiness in the twilight of her life.