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“Mom, please don’t blame me.”
“No, child. I can’t look at this situation and not see it for what it is: a blatant disregard for everything that I said, which was all to protect you. I knew that something like this could happen, and so all those things that I said to you, all those warnings I gave you, were to prevent this.”
She gestured at me with a look of disgust.
“You will think about what you’ve done, and you will get out.” She stood, a look of fury and passion on her face. Fire burned in her eyes.
I had never seen my mom so angry with me, and it made me wonder if things were really my fault as she said. After all, if I had just listened to her then I wouldn’t be in this situation now. About that much she was right.
But I had no time to wonder, for she was commanding me to get out, and for the first time in my life I was scared of her.
With tears in my eyes, I stood, pushing back my chair.
“You don’t understand,” I said again, a weak plea for her compassion. But she did not give it.
“Get. Out.”
Turning from her to the front door, I grabbed my bag, and I ran, not even bothering to close the door behind me.
Let her lock it. Let her realize what she was doing as she turned the key, as she closed the door on her only child. I could only hope that she would come to her senses and come after me, but that was a fleeting wish that I soon realized was futile.
Whenever my mom had set her mind to something, she had always been stubborn, immovable. Probably not even a great tragedy would sway her otherwise.
While I had expected for her to have a reaction of this kind of proportion, even kicking me out, it did not mean that I had been prepared for that eventuality. I had hoped instead that she might be more reasonable and understanding of the fact that this was also a hard thing for me, and I was really going through it.
But she hadn’t been, and I had to face that reality now. I had only my purse and what was in it, and I had been kicked out of my house for the foreseeable future.
It hurt. It hurt really badly. But, more than anything else, it was scary. What was I supposed to do now?
10
Lucas
I had just gotten back home and was settled into my office, prepared to do some extra work for the evening, when I received a call from Bernadette.
I answered it immediately, as I had no idea what it was about, and I was very worried that it could be something serious.
“Bella, what’s going on?” I asked, because as soon as I picked up the phone, I heard sobbing from the other line. “Do you need me to come and get you? What’s going on?”
“Oh Lucas,” she blabbered, then burst into more tears. She was crying so hard that I had a feeling she couldn’t speak.
“Okay, Bella, I need you to listen to me. I want you to text me where you’re right now and I’m going to come get you. I’ll stay on the phone the whole time so that you know I’m there. It’s going to be okay.”
I certainly hoped it would be. I still had no idea what was happening with her, and therefore no clue how I was going to deal with the situation at hand.
My phone buzzed as a text came in and I had a feeling now that I knew kind of what was going on. She was right outside of her house, which could only mean one thing.
Her mother had probably kicked her out.
Which meant she must have found out somehow about either our affair, the pregnancy, or both. I hoped that it was just the affair because that could be fixed rather easily, though I also had no idea how she would have found out about either of them.
Still on the phone with Bernadette, speaking words of encouragement to her, I went outside and got into my car. Then I drove to her place.
Though our houses were separated by a ten-minute drive at least, she did not stop crying the whole time I drove to get her. I was worried that she was going to pass out from crying so hard so I drove a little faster to make sure I got to her before something like that could happen.
Finally, I pulled up in front of her house. Bernadette was a few feet away from the front walkway, still sobbing her eyes out. All that she held was her purse, which worried me greatly. It looked like she had been kicked out and her mother hadn’t even given her time to gather her things, which meant it was definitely spur of the moment.
That could either be good or bad. Good in the sense that if it was spur of the moment, then perhaps she might take it back just as quickly. Bad in the sense that Bernadette had nothing but her purse, and her mother was unlikely to let her back in to grab her things, especially with me around.
