“How could you go skydiving with your heart condition? You have become so reckless.Ya no te reconozco.You were such a good girl before.” She starts crying, her favorite form of manipulation.
She probably traced my phone again. She is dating a cop, and every time she catches the stalker itch, he traces my phone so she can find out where I am or what I have been up to at all times. I tried talking to him on several occasions, but he is too infatuated with my mother and always dismisses me because he thinks she only wants to know if I’m safe. Well, I think it’s a deep violation of my privacy. I even threatened to file an official complaint if he tracks my phone again. I guess he doesn’t care.
“It was on my list. It’s something that I wanted to do before I die,” I say when she finally stops sobbing.
“Tu tíaPaula called me and told me you froze your school year. Are you trying to get me killed? I might die of a heart attack before you if you don’t stop ruining your life.”
Wow, that’s a low blow, even for her. I cut her off before she starts the hour-long rant I know is coming. “I never wanted to go to law school. That was your dream, not mine,” I clip out.
“This nonsense stops now. I already called the school and made the arrangements for you to go back.”
I push to my feet so fast I almost get whiplash, managing to scare Simba in the process. He hides under the bed as I exit the bedroom and start pacing the small apartment. The red-hot anger makes my blood thicken in my veins so much that my weak heart starts sputtering in my chest. My breath turns ragged, and I can barely speak at this point.
“I’m not going back to school,Mamá. You keep pushing me todo things I never wanted. I am tired of living the perfect life you chose for me. I have only a few months left to live. You need to accept that reality once and for all.” I stab at the screen furiously to end the call and plop down on the cream-colored loveseat, pressing my hand over my heaving chest. Fuck. No one gets on my nerves like my mother.
“You okay?” Chloe asks as she passes me a glass of water, a deep frown marring her forehead. I didn’t even notice she followed me out of the bedroom. A glint of worry shines in her dark eyes as she looks at the hand clutching my chest.
I nod and take a sip.C’mon, Ava, take a few deep breaths; you don’t need another trip to the hospital.Blinking and exhaling loudly, I look at my best friend. “Yeah, thanks. I just…Fuck. I know she is like this because of my deadbeat of a father running away when I was just a baby, but I can’t excuse her behavior anymore. The way she wants to control my life is beyond crazy. I should have seen it before. I don’t know how I could let it go on for so many years.”
She sits beside me and holds my hand, waiting for me to calm down completely. Chloe is very well acquainted with my mother’s special brand of craziness.
“C’mon,” I say, standing up when I finally get my heart and breathing under control. “Let’s finish getting ready. I’m not going to let my mother ruin our night.” I pull on her hand and stride back into the bedroom with determination.
I am tired of my mother suffocating me. She dragged me to see so many doctors this past month, and every single one gave the same verdict. I understand why she can’t accept what awaits me, but I’ve come to terms with the fact my time is limited. I was furious at first, sure. Who wouldn’t be? But I am doing my best to move past it and live my life to the fullest until I can’t anymore.
4
Ava
The venue the band is playing at tonight is packed to the brim with sweaty, gyrating bodies that crowd us near the raised, wooden stage. I am one with them; sweat trickles between my shoulder blades and makes my hair stick to my back as I jump up and down with Chloe, losing myself to the music. My heart is fluttering, and I feel like something heavy is pressing on my chest, but what else is new? Nausea hits me all of a sudden. I push the uncomfortable feeling aside and concentrate on dancing. It’s probably just the alcohol. I refuse to think of what else it might be.
“You sexy bitch!” Chloe screams in my ear, slurring her words as she grinds against me and cops a feel of my ass.
I am wearing a leather mini dress I paired with combat bootsfor the full rock chick vibe. It has thin spaghetti straps, a plunging V-neck, and an open back. Smiling drunkenly at my best friend, I look at her from head to toe. “You’re the one to talk. Every guy in this place is drooling over you.”
Chloe is a bombshell with legs a mile long. Her thick, inky black hair reaches the middle of her back, and she is the spitting image of her Filipina mother. She looks like a runway model. Whereas me…I couldn’t be any different. I’m a mix of my white Argentinian father with jade-green eyes and my Mexican mother with a much darker complexion. My skin is golden, thanks to the time I spent sunbathing at the pool with Chloe, and my hair is brunette with natural caramel highlights. I am also shorter than her and a lot curvier.
I have a belly that hangs a little over my waistband, probably because I love baking and eating anything sweet, and thick thighs that chafe like a bitch in the summer. But, I would rather die than eat food I don’t like just because society tells me I’m not exactly the perfect body size. Fuck them. I starved myself enough over the venomous words thrown at me by insecure girls who hate themselves more than anything and want others to feel as miserable as they feel inside. Finding out I was going to die had one advantage, I didn’t give a shit about their opinion anymore.
“Um, hello, I’m not the one Jude’s been eye fucking the whole night. I bet he wants to fuck you for real,” she giggles.
She is right. The lead singer of the band keeps roving his gaze over me. He is looking more at my boobs than at my face, though. I do have a decent rack, so I can’t blame him. We are so close to the stage that my chest vibrates with the deep bass, and I can see every single drop of sweat that courses in rivulets on Jude’s half-naked body.
To the delight of every woman in attendance, he took off his shirt at the middle of their set, tucking it in the back pocket of his leather pants. He keeps throwing smoldering looks towardthe crowd as he grips the microphone, flexing his chiseled abs. He has that bad boy look with slicked back raven hair, hazel eyes, and tattoos that cover his muscular yet slender body. Like a swimmer rather than a bodybuilder. It also doesn’t hurt that he sings so damn well. There’s something about a man who can sing that turns a woman into a crazed, hormonal teenager.
“And Knox hasn’t stopped looking at you,” I shoot back, referring to the drummer who has eyes only for Chloe. He is good-looking, too, with warm brown eyes and dirty blond hair that touches his shoulders and moves every time his sticks hit the drums.
We keep dancing and screaming until the band finishes their last song. I need to pee really bad, and I can’t wait for people to clear a path so we can go to the bathroom and then go backstage to meet the band.
Before I can turn around, a behemoth of a man with a buzz cut and a mean mug appears next to me. “Miss,” he says.
I look around, confusion pulling at my eyebrows.
“He’s talking to you, Ave,” Chloe chuckles out.
Heat blooms in my cheeks. “Yeah?” I reply and cringe because I screamed the word, my ears not fully recovered from being so close to the blasting speakers.
The corners of his lips turn up in amusement. “The band wanted you to have these.” He extends two backstage passes toward me.
