Very Bad Things
Page 51
I shook my head. “All I need is you, little brother. Nobody else.”
He nodded. “If that’s really true, and you’re giving up on love, then leave Nora alone. If you can’t commit, then let someone else have a shot.”
I couldn’t answer. Fuck me, did he mean himself?
An hour later, we watched as Nora’s white Volvo pulled into the drive of her house. I cranked the car, and we drove home, Sebastian deep in thought, and me . . . I was miserable.
“When I was a four, I thought Mother was a goddess.
When I was fourteen, I knew she was a monster.”
–Nora Blakely
AFTER I’D FLED the gym, I drove to a local diner where I planned to drown myself in buttery pancakes and crisp bacon. I sat myself at a cracked vinyl booth and picked up the greasy menu being held up by the napkin dispenser. A few minutes later, the waitress approached with a little smile and a pair of old orange flip-flops. I stared at them in confusion.
“Hon, these were left here a while back, and well, I thought you might want them. Technically, we can’t serve you if you don’t have any shoes,” she said with a gentle Southern twang.
I blinked in surprise, looked down and saw bare feet that were covered in dirt from the parking lot of the gym and the restaurant. And so. It was settled. I’d officially teetered over from barely holding it all together to losing it completely. Sign me up because I was ready to be committed. I had no shoes, borrowed clothes on, blood on my elbows, tangled hair, and a tear-streaked face. Oh, and no Leo, no soulmate, no mister right, no true love, no beloved. I sucked.
I tried to remember where I’d left my shoes, and then I dimly recalled leaving them in Sebastian’s car. “I lost my shoes,” I told her nametag, not wanting to see the pity that must be in her eyes. “Thank you,” I said, taking them from her and slipping them on.
She smiled sweetly and nodded like it happened all the time. I sat there with borrowed flip-flops and ordered my late-night breakfast, intending on savoring every delicious morsel before I went home.
Someone was at home, and I sensed trouble. Whatever was waiting for me in that big house, I didn’t want to give in and take it. I wanted to fight.
As I ate, I had a conversation with myself about Leo. I’d laid it all out to him. Again. The roulette ball had landed, and it seemed I was an expert at mastering the art of losing. I’d taken a chance and told him what was in my heart, and he’d rejected me. Again.
About an hour later when I walked through the door at home, Mother was the one who greeted me, an irritated look on her face as she sat at the kitchen table. Her brown hair was bound up in a perfectly loose chignon, and she wore a soft- green bathrobe. It struck me as odd because I hadn’t seen her in night clothes since I was a child. She wasn’t the type to lounge around in comfy clothes, and I tried to picture her in one of my usual garbs: sweats, a hoodie, and my fuzzy multi-colored socks.
Normally, when she was home, we’d have a light dinner that Mona had prepared, we’d sit in the living room and discuss world events for an hour, and then we’d tell each other goodnight. I wouldn’t see her until morning and most times not even then. The station usually sent a car for her around 5:00 a.m., which was before I got up.
There were lots of things in life I didn’t get. How the universe was formed. How bed bugs can totally wipe out a hotel. Why Romeo and Juliet didn’t just talk it out before they offed themselves. Why needy people fish for compliments on Facebook. But, most of all, I didn’t get why my mother hated me. But, then she didn’t hate me, did she? No, I think it was worse; it was indifference.
Seeing her actually home for once, plus up and out of her room, I figured something major had happened. Had Mona found the china?
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Dad?”
She shook her head at me and said, “Don’t play the innocent act with me. The school called me today to tell me you’d dropped most of your classes!”
“Oh, so that’s why you came home,” I said, hating the let-down I felt because in the back of my mind, I’d wondered if maybe she’d come home for my birthday, albeit a belated one. “Well, that’s old news. Happened last week. I also quit debate and yearbook, too.”
She glared at me. “And, Emma Eason’s mother woke me up at midnight to tell me you started a fight with her daughter, and you know I play tennis with her mother. She’s the President of the Chamber of Commerce, for goodness sakes! How could you?” She waved her hands at my appearance. “You’re an embarrassment to this family, Nora Grace, and I won’t tolerate it. This all started with the incident, and I’m nipping it in the bud once and for all!”
“What do you mean, nipping it in the bud?” I asked, backing away from her. I didn’t want her to hit me. Of course, she’d never use her fists on me because that would leave bruises. But she could slap with the best of them.
She laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I’m taking your keys and electronics again. You can stay in your room for a week without speaking to anyone. You will eat and shower in your room as well. Mona can drive you to school. There will be no visits to Portia’s. If you reregister for those classes and sign up for debate, however, I’ll let it all go.” She stood gracefully, looking at me with disdain. “Thank God Finn was an easier child than you. You’re the worst . . .”
“Stop!” I yelled. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
He nodded. “If that’s really true, and you’re giving up on love, then leave Nora alone. If you can’t commit, then let someone else have a shot.”
I couldn’t answer. Fuck me, did he mean himself?
An hour later, we watched as Nora’s white Volvo pulled into the drive of her house. I cranked the car, and we drove home, Sebastian deep in thought, and me . . . I was miserable.
“When I was a four, I thought Mother was a goddess.
When I was fourteen, I knew she was a monster.”
–Nora Blakely
AFTER I’D FLED the gym, I drove to a local diner where I planned to drown myself in buttery pancakes and crisp bacon. I sat myself at a cracked vinyl booth and picked up the greasy menu being held up by the napkin dispenser. A few minutes later, the waitress approached with a little smile and a pair of old orange flip-flops. I stared at them in confusion.
“Hon, these were left here a while back, and well, I thought you might want them. Technically, we can’t serve you if you don’t have any shoes,” she said with a gentle Southern twang.
I blinked in surprise, looked down and saw bare feet that were covered in dirt from the parking lot of the gym and the restaurant. And so. It was settled. I’d officially teetered over from barely holding it all together to losing it completely. Sign me up because I was ready to be committed. I had no shoes, borrowed clothes on, blood on my elbows, tangled hair, and a tear-streaked face. Oh, and no Leo, no soulmate, no mister right, no true love, no beloved. I sucked.
I tried to remember where I’d left my shoes, and then I dimly recalled leaving them in Sebastian’s car. “I lost my shoes,” I told her nametag, not wanting to see the pity that must be in her eyes. “Thank you,” I said, taking them from her and slipping them on.
She smiled sweetly and nodded like it happened all the time. I sat there with borrowed flip-flops and ordered my late-night breakfast, intending on savoring every delicious morsel before I went home.
Someone was at home, and I sensed trouble. Whatever was waiting for me in that big house, I didn’t want to give in and take it. I wanted to fight.
As I ate, I had a conversation with myself about Leo. I’d laid it all out to him. Again. The roulette ball had landed, and it seemed I was an expert at mastering the art of losing. I’d taken a chance and told him what was in my heart, and he’d rejected me. Again.
About an hour later when I walked through the door at home, Mother was the one who greeted me, an irritated look on her face as she sat at the kitchen table. Her brown hair was bound up in a perfectly loose chignon, and she wore a soft- green bathrobe. It struck me as odd because I hadn’t seen her in night clothes since I was a child. She wasn’t the type to lounge around in comfy clothes, and I tried to picture her in one of my usual garbs: sweats, a hoodie, and my fuzzy multi-colored socks.
Normally, when she was home, we’d have a light dinner that Mona had prepared, we’d sit in the living room and discuss world events for an hour, and then we’d tell each other goodnight. I wouldn’t see her until morning and most times not even then. The station usually sent a car for her around 5:00 a.m., which was before I got up.
There were lots of things in life I didn’t get. How the universe was formed. How bed bugs can totally wipe out a hotel. Why Romeo and Juliet didn’t just talk it out before they offed themselves. Why needy people fish for compliments on Facebook. But, most of all, I didn’t get why my mother hated me. But, then she didn’t hate me, did she? No, I think it was worse; it was indifference.
Seeing her actually home for once, plus up and out of her room, I figured something major had happened. Had Mona found the china?
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Dad?”
She shook her head at me and said, “Don’t play the innocent act with me. The school called me today to tell me you’d dropped most of your classes!”
“Oh, so that’s why you came home,” I said, hating the let-down I felt because in the back of my mind, I’d wondered if maybe she’d come home for my birthday, albeit a belated one. “Well, that’s old news. Happened last week. I also quit debate and yearbook, too.”
She glared at me. “And, Emma Eason’s mother woke me up at midnight to tell me you started a fight with her daughter, and you know I play tennis with her mother. She’s the President of the Chamber of Commerce, for goodness sakes! How could you?” She waved her hands at my appearance. “You’re an embarrassment to this family, Nora Grace, and I won’t tolerate it. This all started with the incident, and I’m nipping it in the bud once and for all!”
“What do you mean, nipping it in the bud?” I asked, backing away from her. I didn’t want her to hit me. Of course, she’d never use her fists on me because that would leave bruises. But she could slap with the best of them.
She laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I’m taking your keys and electronics again. You can stay in your room for a week without speaking to anyone. You will eat and shower in your room as well. Mona can drive you to school. There will be no visits to Portia’s. If you reregister for those classes and sign up for debate, however, I’ll let it all go.” She stood gracefully, looking at me with disdain. “Thank God Finn was an easier child than you. You’re the worst . . .”
“Stop!” I yelled. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
