Skylar stayed the whole time until the library closed. Her friends did too, and not only did Tasmin remain the whole time, but her boyfriend joined. When he showed up, they had a silent conversation via looks. It lasted a couple minutes. Everyone noticed, raising their eyebrows except for me, and then, with a sigh, Race moved to take the seat next to his girlfriend. She leaned over, gave him a kiss on the cheek. He shook his head as he pulled out his books to start studying.
We were heading out now and stepped outside the building.
“We’re going to take off.” Tasmin waved, her hand in Race’s. “See you later. Mara, don’t block me on your phone. I now know where you live.”
I just groaned, refraining from comment as they went off in the opposite direction we were going.
Skylar burst out laughing. “She’s…she’s something. Yeah.”
My phone buzzed.
Cruz: Wanna come over?
“That Styles?”
I jerked my head up at Skylar’s question. She said it softly, cautiously. She held up a hand. “Sorry, but I saw the pictures.” Her two friends waved, taking off. Skylar returned the gesture before she turned to me again. “Miles also kinda informed us about your deal too.”
“Miles knew about Cruz?”
She nodded. “He said he saw you guys one time, but you didn’t know. So, you’re normally pretty private, right?”
I barked out a laugh. “I—I just like my own privacy, space. And I think something is wrong with me because everything I do has the opposite effect.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason you keep people at a distance, but you don’t have to with us. Your roommates, I mean. We’re all cool. For real. You know that. You’ve hung out with us. Also, you got me an ice cream cake. That solidifies that you’re good people in my books.”
“I’m …” God. There was no explanation that didn’t make me sound like a crazy person. “Thanks for that.”
Her eyes fell back to my phone. “You going to go see him?”
My body did, already heating up, knowing how it felt being in his arms. But I shook my head, tucking my phone back in my pocket. “No. I’m going to go home, maybe hang out with my roommates, and go to bed like the responsible college student I am. I’ve got morning classes tomorrow.”
She laughed. “I’m hoping to have a couple drinks tonight.”
“That too.”
I gave Skylar a ride home. We separated at the back doors. I went to my place first, telling her I’d join them in a bit, and she went through the main back door.
The light was on, and crossing the living room, I heard the toilet flush.
Then I registered that the bathroom door was closed.
Someone was in my apartment!
I froze.
The water turned on. Off.
I should run—I started for the door when the bathroom door opened, and my mom stepped out. She saw me, her eyes went wide, and she posed. Literally, posed. Hands on hips. She stuck a hip out and she puffed up her chest. She had the same body as mine, but the years hadn’t been totally kind to her. She had bags under her eyes, dark shadows, but a part of me wondered if she used make-up for the effect. Her hair had recently been dyed, this time she was going with a bright red color. It looked good on her. Then, a deep breath and, “OH MY GOD! MARA!” She rushed me, catching me before I’d taken two steps and wrapped her arms tight around me. “Oh my gosh. Honey. Sweetie. I have missed you so much. So, so much! It’s been forever.” She was squeezing me so hard.
I shoved away, backing up a few steps.
She was here.
In my apartment.
Here.
Panic was starting to build, but it was moving slow. The shock was stifling it. I could feel it crawling up my body, and it was painful. “How did you get in here?”
“Your roommates.” She gave a harsh laugh, going into my kitchen.
She went to the cupboard where I keep my glasses and pulled out a box of mac and cheese. “Seriously? This is what you’re filling your body up with?” She gave me a once-over, half sneering before tossing the box down on the counter. “I raised you to do better than that. Come on.”
She was going across the room when it clicked then what just happened.
“Let’s go to a bar—”
I tuned her out, opening that cupboard. This morning, it had been full of my glasses, cups, mugs, a couple wine glasses. Right now, all food. Food that I didn’t buy, but it was there. The mac and cheese, not what I bought.
I went to the other cupboard, and it was the same thing. My plates and bowls had been there this morning, and now, she had towels and washcloths in there.
“Where’s my stuff?”
“Oh yeah.” She was going for my bag, taking it to the couch. “I rearranged a few things. If you’re going to keep that freshman fifteen off you, you shouldn’t even have dishes or cups where it’s easy to grab. Food can go anywhere, but the dishes to eat the food, that’s the genius of the dieting.” She paused, starting to unzip my bag, and looked me over again. “You look good though, not too many extra pounds, but you should still lose those just to be safe. I don’t want my daughter getting stuck with a loser. We need to make sure you get a good guy. Reel him in now. You had a good idea with that DeVroe kid. Too bad he wised up, saw through you, and picked that other girl. Her family is wealthy too. He wasn’t dumb.”
She was saying everything I hated, everything I didn’t want to hear, and she was doing it while she started going through my bag. She pulled my clutch out, thumbing through it. I was still reeling that she was here, that she talked to my roommates, that she rearranged my entire kitchen, and all the cutting comments within two minutes for me to register what she was doing.
She was taking my money.
“Stop!” I lunged for her, taking my clutch away, my chest was heaving.
Oh no.
I did what she needed me to do. I yelled and I forcibly ripped something from her. I could only stand and quake, waiting to see what she’d do next. Throw a tantrum. Cry? Whatever it was, she’d be the victim.
She was always the victim.
In every scenario.
If I walked into a room, if she was in a mood, she was the victim.
If I opened the dishwasher and forgot to close it, she was the victim.
A guttural sob came from her.
Years and years of this. It was too much. Too exhausting.
She was going to cry. That was her choice of action. She’d be in full meltdown within minutes.
“I can’t believe you just did that to me.” Another sob. A gasp. Tears actually were sliding down her face.
She’d wail soon.
And me, I did what I learned growing up.
I shut down. I couldn’t leave the room. That’d further give her ammunition, that I was abandoning her. That I didn’t love her. Etcetera and etcetera and etcetera. It went on and on. There was no reasoning. She didn’t want that. Logic. Common sense. No way. It was whatever she could do to get my attention. And if someone else was in the room, to get their attention.
She was an energy pariah, sucking it out of you until you were so drained that you were hollow.
I had nothing in me. Absolutely nothing anymore. I couldn’t even bolster the energy to fight her, to kick her out.
“I kept waiting for you to visit me at the hospital, but you never did. I almost died, Mara. Where were you?” More tears. Deep sobs where she had to hiccup around one. “I’m all alone. You don’t love me. Your father hates me. He’s trying to get me locked up. I wanted to see you, so I came here, and I’m trying to do something nice for you. Gaining weight is a big deal to girls. I struggle with it myself, but not everyone can have my metabolism. But Mara, I was all alone. Do you know what it was like when I woke up in the hospital and I was alone? How those nurses looked at me? How they always look at me? None of them were nice. They judged me.”
I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
I took my clutch, my bag, my phone–I made sure I had everything of value with me. My keys.
“Mara!” Another deep sob/choke. She was raising her voice. “Where are you going?”
I paused, once. “Bathroom, Mom.”
“Oh.” Another sob as tears lingered on her cheeks. “Okay.” She settled back down on the couch, reached for a pillow and held it over her stomach. Her head went down. Her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated. “I’ll stay here. I’ll wait for you. Take your time, sweetie.”
As soon as I was inside, I locked the door, hit the fan. I slumped down to the floor.
Everything was a tsunami inside of me.
I needed her gone. Now. I could not handle her.
She would destroy everything.
I needed help.
Who could I call?
My roommates? They’d see a daughter kicking her mother out of her apartment, a mother that drove three hours to see her daughter. I’m sure she told them some amazing and fun story so of course it made sense for them to unlock the door for her.
No. I couldn’t involve them.
Who?
My dad was three hours away. Three hours was doable, but I wanted her gone now. Immediately.
I had no clue–my phone started ringing.
Cruz calling.
I answered, choking out, strangled, “Hey.”
He was silent for a second. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I–” I stopped and closed my eyes. What could I do here? What should I do? Cruz never judged. He wasn’t like that. Maybe that’s why I heard myself saying, “I need help.”
“You’re at your place?”
“Mara, honey?”
My insides withered because she’d come to the door. I was taking too long.
I was sure Cruz could hear her, but I said, “Yes.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m close by.”
He ended the call, but I held the phone in my hand for a long time after.
She was my mother. She had been my person for so long. She was the best thing in the world. I was angry at everyone she was mad at. I helped plot against anyone who was trying to hurt her, and that list was long. Never ending. Everyone was talking about her. Everyone didn’t like her. Everyone only wanted to use her.
But not me. Not her daughter. Her little cuddle bug.
Her and me. The two of us against the world.
She really didn’t see me when she hit me with the car that one time. She was the one crying about it. It was traumatic to her, what she almost did to her little angel girl. And the time she raised a bat to me, slamming it down on my hand, but oh no. She didn’t see my hand there, though I knew she looked right at it. It was another night in the ER where half the nursing staff were consoling her. I sat on the table, got my hand taken care of, while she was almost choking on her own crying in the hallway. And after, if she hadn’t gotten the looks she wanted from the doctor, or the front desk person, then they hated her. They had a personal vendetta against her. Such evil people. No empathy in them.
I believed it all, and the list went on and on and on until I was eleven.
Knock. One brief, but hard knock.
I tensed, listening, not ready to go back out.
I heard voices. A male one. My mom’s, loud and excited.
Then, murmuring and I heard, “Excuse me?”
Cruz said something to her.
I needed to go out there. I needed to help him.
He didn’t even know the situation. I really needed to go out there.
There was more murmuring. His was low, calm. Hers–I was expecting it to be angry. That’s how she was when someone tried to enforce boundaries. Boundaries meant her not getting what she wanted.
I had to go.
I forced myself up, opening the door, stepping out.
“Mara!” Her mouth was tight. The beginning stages of a full-blown meltdown was going to ensue soon. “You didn’t tell me that this house needs to be evacuated.”
I opened my mouth, flicked my eyes to Cruz, who was nodding still so calmly.
He said, “Yep. I just talked to Miles downstairs. Something wrong with the ventilation and everyone’s leaving for the night.” He nodded to a bag. “Is this your bag, ma’am?”
“Ma’am.” Her tone was curt.
He ignored that, picking up her bag and put his arm through the strap. His eyes went to me, giving me a little appraisal before giving me a nod. “You got your stuff ready? I was just telling your mom that you’re spending the night at my place, but we’re at full capacity so I won’t be able to get a bed for her. Last minute and all.”
He was saving me. He was giving me time.
I jerked my head in a nod. “Right. Mom, you need to go. I have a full week ahead of me, and I can’t slip in any of my classes.”
“But–”
“You drove here?” I was praying, Please God, she drove here. Not that she got a ride from someone.
“Yeah, but–”
“Okay. Great. Come on.” I grabbed my bag, putting all my things inside and went to my room, grabbing a second set of clothes. A few of my toiletries.
Cruz saw me coming and opened the door. I led the way. My mom came behind at a slower pace. I heard Cruz shutting the door. He would’ve locked it behind him, or I was hoping, but at this rate, I didn’t care. Getting out of here, getting her out of here was all I needed.
I was gasping for it like I was drowning.
Her presence, her demands, her emotional manipulation was starting to come over me like a blanket. The suffocation was real. The more I was around her, the weaker I got until it was easier to give her what she wanted, do what she wanted.
I was barely keeping it together once we got downstairs. Spotting Cruz’s truck, I knew I needed to play my part.
I turned, a forced smile on my face. I went over, hugged my mom. She stiffened at first before clasping me back. I tried to pull back, but she wouldn’t let me. I heard another sob as she buried her head in my neck. “Oh, Mara, honey. I’ve missed you so much. I only thought of you when I was in the hospital–”
“Did you call me? Did you call and leave a message, but didn’t say anything on it?” I stepped back, keeping my feelings suppressed and my face blank, but I had to know. Everything else needed to be shut down so she couldn’t read me. She couldn’t use anything she saw or felt to manipulate me or anyone at this rate.
She didn’t answer. Her mouth pressed into a line, and she looked up and to the right. That was her tell. She was searching for a lie. She had called me.
I shook my head. “Never mind. There’s your car. I’ll see you, Mom.”
“Wha–wait.”
“Here you go, ma’am.” He put her bag at her feet. Then, we were walking down the driveway. He was slightly behind me, blocking me a little.
“Mara!”
Her voice broke, and my resolve almost shattered at hearing that anguished emotion from her.
I slowed…
“No.” Cruz said it softly, touching the small of my back. “Keep going. You know you have to.”
I had no idea how he knew what to do, how to handle her. It was a lifeline and I was grabbing hold of it. My mom was shouting my name, but we kept going to his truck.
I got in the passenger door.
He went around, getting in, and I glanced over once. My mom had stopped at the driveway, her bag in her hand. Her mouth was hanging open. Her hands were in fists, but she looked utterly dejected. Another dent in my wall. She was my mother. I loved her, but I couldn’t let her in. If I did, she’d destroy me and get mad when I was broken, because I couldn’t give her any more, because she’d been the one to break me.
“Miles?” I looked at the house. The lights were off. “The others?”
“Miles got me upstairs. Had to go through the house, but he asked what was up. I had a feeling.”
“But–” My mind was still wheeling. “How did you know any of that?”
“Your voice was shaking. You told me you needed help. Mara, you don’t ever need anyone. Miles told me about the lady visiting you. I didn’t know who was up there, but if you could’ve got out, you would’ve. I guessed. I hope I was right?”
I was barely hearing him, still focused that she’d been at my apartment. My safe place.
“I have to move.”
“No, you don’t. You can’t run from someone like that.”
“How do you know?”
He didn’t answer, his jaw clenching. He jerked his head to the side, staring straight ahead as we drove back to the hockey house. “I just do.”
Right. No personal shit, except we were so far wading into personal shit.
“What’d you tell my roommates?”
“Told them that woman in your apartment wasn’t your mom, that she was a con woman.”
“What?”
“Told them we needed to get her out of there asap and I wasn’t sure if you wanted the cops called. Skylar was the one who said about the evacuation thing. Said she had a creepy uncle and they needed to pull that excuse a few times to get him out of their house.”
I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but I couldn’t because that was ingenious. What he told them, what Skylar thought of and now my mom had no idea where to go or who to turn to for allies. I groaned, thinking on that, because she couldn’t stay. I was so scared she’d get a motel room, shack up with a guy, and start stalking me around college. I could not have that. I would not have that.
I needed to let my dad know what happened, but I couldn’t call. I’d break down.
Me: Mom is here in Grant West. She was in my apartment, but she’s out and I’m staying with a friend. I have no idea what she’ll do after. I cannot talk about it or I’m going to lose it. Please do something to get her away from here.
A part of me always wondered when he would decide enough was enough. That I was on my own with her. Every time I sent a text like this, like when I was eleven and bleeding in my room and I had to text the dad who hated me, when I asked for help–I expected him not to respond.
Cruz pulled up to the twenty-four-seven grocery store.
“What are we doing here?”
He shut the engine off and turned to me. “Well. I figure if we go back to the house, you’re going to break down and then you’re going to hate that you broke down. And I’m hungry, but I know you have a real aversion to anything date-like, so I figured let’s take a stroll through the grocery store. I get my food. You won’t break down and it’s not a date at all. Win, win, and win.”
He gave me a smirk, got out of the truck, and started for the store.
My phone buzzed.
Dad: I’ll handle it. I do want to talk about this apartment because that’s news to me but have a restful night with your friend. We’ll talk tomorrow. Love you, honey.
He still replied. He was still helping.
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
She hadn’t been able to take him from me.
