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I kiss her forehead and run downstairs. I almost barge into the living room but stop when I hear Mom and Diana arguing. I know they’re arguing about me, and I have a moment of smug triumph, followed immediately by guilt.
“She’s a teenager, Libby,” Diana says. “I don’t know about you, but I remember how we were.”
I’m shocked to hear her taking my side, but then, she was always permissive with Meghan. I guess it makes sense.
“She could have been drunk driving,” Mom says. “She could have been killed!”
“But she didn’t drive drunk. She doesn’t even have a car. I’m not saying I condone her drinking, but she has friends to hang out with, and that’s healthy. At some point we have to let them learn from their mistakes.”
“Not those kinds of mistakes,” Mom says firmly. “This is unacceptable. You should have seen the place. What do you want me to do?”
I know Mom is more scandalized by the remnants of the party than she would have been if I’d just come home drunk last night. I wish to god I had. That’s the mistake I should learn from.
“She’s your daughter,” Diana asks. “You’re the parent, and you have to do what you think is best. But remember, kids are going to do what they’re going to do when you’re not around. You can tell her to break up with her boyfriend, but you can’t enforce that. You can only be sure that she won’t confide in you if she has a problem with him down the road.”
I slink away into the kitchen as quietly as I can. I know I just scored a major win by having Dad’s sister on my side, but it makes me feel funny. How close were they all these years? Did she know?
She couldn’t have. If she did, Mom wouldn’t trust her as much as she does now. They’re closer now than they ever were when Dad was here, even though they always got along, staying up late and drinking wine in the kitchen, giggling like teenagers while Meghan and I watched movies in the living room.
Would Dad take my side if he were with us now? I sigh. More complicated emotions around memories that are tainted with questions and uncertainties.
I wait for a few minutes until Mom comes to drive me to work. We’re about halfway to the mall when Mom starts apologizing. I have to hide a smile. I owe Diana big time for this. I drank, lied to my mom, and slept with a boy, and now Mom is the one apologizing.
“I shouldn’t have told you not to see that boy,” she says, looking straight ahead. “It’s just that you always told me everything, and lately, since you’ve made all these new friends, it feels like you never tell me anything. I’m happy you made some friends at school, I am, but I just want things to be how they used to be.”
I know what she means, and suddenly I know this isn’t just about what I did. She overreacted because everything’s changed for her too. In fact, it’s gotten much worse for her than for me. Yes, I miss him too, but the last thing on earth I want is for things to be like they used to be at my last school.
By some miracle, I’m popular. I’m dating a football player, hanging out with the ‘It girls’. I’d give my left leg not to be back where I was last year. For once in my life, I’m having fun. I have friends to go shopping with, I get invited to parties that other people can’t get into. I’m not as awkward or dorky. Sometimes I even feel pretty.
I’m in love, and even if he doesn’t feel the same or we can’t be together, at least I’m feeling something. Sometimes I feel high just thinking about him. Isn’t that better than being numb and angry all the time?
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, softening toward her now that I understand why she freaked out. “But I like things the way they are. I finally want to go to school. I like my life here, and yes, I kind of feel like shit about that because I know you don’t.”
“Honey, I don’t ever want you to feel guilty about moving on with your life,” she says, sounding tearful. “That’s what I want for you and Lily both.”
“Then why are you so mad that I’m doing it?” I ask. “If you don’t want me to have a life, I can go back to my Tori Amos CDs and be a loser like I used to be. Then we can all be miserable together.”
I know I’m being way dramatic and unfair, but that’s how it feels right now. Like she only wants me to move on if I do it in the way she wants, the way she can control.
“That’s not what I meant,” she says quickly. “I want you to be happy. I just want you to be safe. No more parties, no more drinking. You can have your friends at school and your boyfriend. It’s what you’re doing after school that I object to.”
I’m not as enthusiastic about getting permission to date Todd as I should be. He’s a great friend, and I like hanging out with him. But now that we’re exclusive, I’m afraid he’s going to want more than a few kisses. I almost wish Mom would make us break up. At least then I’d have a good excuse.
I really wasn’t that upset about our arrangement anyway. I don’t care if he was sleeping with Elaine on occasion, since it took the pressure off me. I would’ve picked someone a lot nicer than Elaine, but still. I didn’t feel obligated to him before—not to go out if I didn’t feel like it, not to be with him all the time, and not to sleep with him.
Mom clears her throat after a pause. “That said… After school on Monday, I’m taking you to a doctor, and we’re getting you on birth control.”
My face bursts into flame. The sex talk was embarrassing enough when I was twelve and still thought that kissing with tongue was the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard of. Now that I’m actually considering sex, the talk is a million times worse.
“Mom,” I protest, “I’ve never even done it. I swear. I don’t need birth control. I’ll probably be a virgin until l die.”
“Well, that’s a relief. But just in case. You can’t be too careful. Once you get pregnant, there’s no going back. It will change your whole life. And you just said you’re finally living. I want you to have time to be young. I’m not discussing this further. You’re going to be on birth control if you want to do anything after school with your boyfriend—ever.”
I just want to stop talking about it, so I shut my mouth and don’t argue. What does it matter if I’m on birth control when I don’t need it? It doesn’t change anything, and it will put her mind at ease. Plus, if I ever do need it, I won’t have to tell her then. I want to die just thinking about the cringey questions she’d ask about my “sex life.”
I think about Chase’s voice, soft and strained, making my blood turn to flame.
God, you’re tight.
