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Last night I was just jacked up, but today I know why.
I jam in my earbuds and cue up the thirty second video I made last night when Lily fell asleep on me. Then I set it on repeat.
It’s not only about fun anymore. Not for me anyway.Chapter 21The BootLILYThe door to my room is locked, and my mom is yelling at me through it. And pounding. If she breaks her hand, I’m not going to feel bad.
Okay, I’ll feel a little bad, but this is ridiculous. I’m an adult. I get to make my own decisions, whether they’re good or bad.
I didn’t tell her I went to see Randy after dress rehearsal last night. The hickies and bite marks decorating my chest gave it away. I didn’t notice them, being extra exhausted from my night of stellar sex, until my mom loudly pointed them out.
I shove a bunch of clothes in a bag and call Sunny. She’s hard to hear over my mother’s lecture-yelling.
“What’s going on? Is that your mom?”
“She found out I went to see Randy.”
“And she’s freaking out this much? Wow.”
“Can I come crash at your place for a few days?”
“Of course. Want me to pick you up?”
Sunny’s such an awesome friend. “That’d be great.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen. Should I come up?”
“Probably not.”
“Okay.”
I end the call and keep shoving clothes and things into my bag. I can’t get to the bathroom for my toiletries, but I can always come back later. I open the door and step back in case my mom decides to come flying in.
She props her hands on her hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To Sunny’s. I’m gonna stay there for a few days.”
“Oh, no you’re not! That girl is nothing but trouble for you. I should never have let you hang out with her when you were teenagers. I should’ve seen this coming. This is totally my fault. You’re turning in to one of those brainless hockey sluts!”
I get my dramatic flair from my mom. I hope I’m not this bad. “Brainless hockey slut? I’m not a puck bunny, Mom. We’re hanging out.”
She points at my chest, even though it’s now covered. “Hanging out naked!”
“I’m an adult. If I decide I want to hang out with someone naked, I can. I’m having fun.”
“Fun? Fun? You’re having fun?”
The parroting is getting annoying. “This conversation isn’t productive, and you’re being a total hypocrite. Sunny isn’t a bad influence, and not all hockey players are bad guys. Alex is engaged, and Sunny’s boyfriend is probably the sweetest human being on the face of the earth.”
“That’s two out of hundreds! Thousands!”
“I can’t believe you. Do you even hear what you’re saying? Do you even realize how ridiculous this is? It’s not like you’ve been an excellent role model.” I gesture to Tim-Tom sitting on the couch. He’s wearing pajama pants and that’s it. As usual. “Don’t you own any shirts?” I call.
He looks down at his bare chest.
“Don’t talk to Tim like that!”
I decide it’s better to leave than say something I’ll regret. “I gotta go. Sunny’s picking me up.”
“Fine. Go! Leave! Just don’t go getting yourself pregnant and ruin your life like I ruined mine.” She sucks in a breath, clamping her hand over her mouth like she’s trying to push the words back in. “I didn’t mean that, Lily.”
When she reaches out, I step back, away from her touch, her apology. In that moment, she gives credence to all my insecurities—that I’m not enough, that I’ll never be wanted, that I’m not worth the effort to love. Her regret is a mark I can’t erase.
“That’s the unfortunate thing about words, Mom. Once you put them out there, you can’t take them back.”
She tries to grab my wrist as I push past her, but I yank it free.
“I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”
“Which mistake is that? The one where you got pregnant, or the one when you decided to keep me?”
“You’re the best mistake I ever made, Lily.”
“But I’m still a mistake.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the message. It’s Sunny. “My ride’s here.”
She doesn’t try to stop me from leaving. Which is good. I’m close to tears, and I hate it when my mother sees me cry.
***
Two hours later, Sunny and I are lying on her bed. We’re halfway through the magnum of white wine we picked up at the store. We’re both tipsy since neither of us are drinkers. We’ve also gotten into her dad’s cookie stash.
Robbie Waters is a chemist. He works for a marijuana lab perfecting strains for medical use. He does a lot of “testing.”
I’ve ugly-cried, and Sunny’s shed sympathy tears. It’s one of the many reasons I love her; she’s the best, best friend in the world. She’ll laugh with me, cry with me, get as angry as she can with me—which isn’t very angry, but the thought is always there.
