“You don’t have to,” I say sternly.
“Yes, I do,” she snaps. “I never should have gone by myself. It’s just that she sounded different when she called me, like she actually wanted to see me. Usually I just send her money and have the necessities dropped off, but I really thought this time would be different.” She shakes her head, and I wince at the prospect of the movement hurting her further. “Ugh, I’m such a dumbass.”
“For believing your mother wanted to see you? That’s a normal thing to believe in, no matter how many times she's messed up.”
“I’ve tried to help her; I’ve tried to get her into programs. She won’t give her consent.” I can hear the genuine hurt in her heart. Her persistence makes me love her even more than I already do.
“Why do you keep trying?”
“I promised my grandmother that I wouldn't give up on her,” she cries, letting out an exasperated breath. “She’s my mother; I don’t think I can ever bring myself to abandon her.”
“Even though she abandoned you when you were just a kid?” I don’t mean this to question her; I want her to be sure in her answer. I want to bolster her resolve in her fight.
“Yes, even after that. If that hadn’t happened, I never would be where I am today.”
“Yes, you would,” I say firmly. “You were born for this. It doesn’t matter if you were brought up in a mansion or a trailer; you’d still be doing what you do.”
I feel her shift toward me. “I wouldn’t, though. My first album, my first viral single, was all about my experience growing up in this world. Without that, I never would have connected with my audience.”
Her persistence silences me. There’s truth in what she says. Suffering does create beautiful art in the end. Mae is the most stunning example of that.
“Look, if you want to leave after all of this, I understand.” She says softly, “This is totally ugly and shocking, and I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize for this,” I say staunchly. “I’m not leaving you in the middle of the night. You don’t have a car -”
“Or my purse,” she interrupts and lets her face fall into her palms, like it’s all just a hilarious joke.
“Yeah, there’s no shot I’m leaving you.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel before glancing at the clock. It’ll be nearly midnight by the time we get back. “I guess we check-in to a hotel?” She’s silent which causes me to grip the wheel, praying I haven’t made her uncomfortable. “We can get separate rooms,” I say in clarification.
She waves me away. “I’m not worried about that. I just don’t have a way to pay you at the moment.”
“And I am not worried about that in the slightest.” Letting the proposition settle, I continue into the city towards the skyscrapers that are bound to house at least one hotel for us. “Do you think your mom’s using your card? Could that help you find her?”
“She’ll use it eventually, but I had a lot of cash in there. It’s stupid of me, I know; I just like being prepared.”
“Stop calling yourself stupid. You are anything but that,” I say, turning into a lot.
Inside, it’s clear the clerk is doing everything in his power to remain professional and not ask for a photo. I see the gears turning when we get a single room, and I make sure to slip him a little extra for his discretion.
The ride up to the seventh floor is long. Mae looks so small, curled in on herself in the corner of the elevator. I wish I had words to comfort her. Since I don’t, I just reach out to her and take her under my arm. She wraps herself around me and tucks her head low. She’s exhausted and on edge – a shitty pair.
We key into our room, and Mae immediately crashes on one of the beds. I made sure to get us a suite to stave off any sort of awkwardness for the evening. Luckily, we’re just in time for the last call on room service. Against Mae’s wishes, I order us both a burger and fries.
When I hang up the phone, Mae approaches me with her arms crossed. She clears her throat. “Listen, I hate to ask, but I don’t have any clothes with me, and I really want to get out of these jeans.”
Focused on being nothing but a gentleman, I shift in my seat and nod. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a team shirt and hand it over to her. Our fingers brush briefly before she nods in acceptance and heads for the bathroom.
While she’s gone, I quickly change into sweatpants and attempt to put on a different shirt, but she’s quicker than I thought. We’re caught staring – me at her oversized Gators shirt and messy bun, and her at a shirtless me. Our eyes climb until they meet, and we finally both shy away.
“So,” she says, tapping her fingers against her thigh, “this shirt is comfy.” She dares another look at my chest with a smirk as she says, “You should try one.”
“Shut up,” I say, throwing a pillow at her. She catches it with ease. “I know you like what you see.”
She throws the pillow back at me with a huff as I pull a shirt over my head. The pillow whacks me in the face, and we both laugh. It’s been so long since we’ve hung out that I forgot how easy it feels. Even in these less-than-ideal circumstances, I still feel 100% at peace with her.
Our familiarity returns as the food arrives. Curling up next to each other on the floor, we share a relatively carefree meal. I turn on the highlights from the sports channel and she checks her phone every once in a while. When we’ve finished the squishy fries at the bottom of the basket, Mae dusts off her hands. She grabs her phone, pushes herself to stand, and falls dramatically back onto the closest bed. “I think the Nashville game is in overtime!” she says, bolting upright once again and wagging her phone in my face.
Never one to turn down a great game, I stand and turn the channel to find that the game is indeed tied 21-21. Mae grabs my arm to move me out of the way and ends up pulling me down to the bed beside her. She wraps the blankets around us and settles back into the horde of pillows. Slowly relaxing, I ease in next to her and make sure to keep a comfortable space between us.
