“What?” My voice sounds like it isn’t even coming from my own lips. It sounds like it’s echoing off the walls, spoken by someone other than me.
“And this woman, she’s threatening to go public with this. She’s already spoken to the PR manager of the team. I?—”
I hang up the phone. I can’t stand to hear his voice anymore. Not while I look at my mom, her disheveled hair splayed over her tear-stained face.
“Mom,” I call, urging her to look at me. With my hands braced on her shoulders, I force her to look at me.
Her eyes grow misty and her chin trembles. “He said it wouldn’t happen again. He said…” The last of her words are drowned in an inconsolable wave of sobs. She cries and cries, and I hold her. I hold her until exhaustion takes over, and she’s just a heap of fatigue and betrayal. I don’t know what to do. I want to tell her everything will be okay, regardless if it’s the truth or not. I want to call my dad and yell at him. Tell him how royally he fucked things up and how I will never be able to look at him the same. I want to go to Teeny. The only person who could hold my hand and somehow make things okay. Even if she’s just sitting next to me, her hand in mine while we sip on a Coke float.
With my mom still crying, I walk her to the couch. She slumps into the cushions, her limbs heavy and lifeless. With her legs drawn up to her chest and her face pressed against the arm, she stares blankly. At the floor in front of her, at the coffee table scratched up from the years my grandparents owned a tabby cat, at my foot firmly rooted on the carpet as I watch her completely fall apart.
She slowly falls asleep, her breathing steadying, and her face growing lax. I reach for a blanket to cover her with and set about getting a hold of Teeny. As soon as I find Diana’s number on my phone, I walk into the kitchen to avoid waking my mom.
“Hello?”
“Hey, is this Diana?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Everett. Is Teeny still there?”
“She just left.”
Shit. “Okay. That’s fine.”
“Okay.”
I hang up, realizing I have no choice but to leave.
* * *
When I get to the diner, I find Teeny in our usual spot. She has two Coke floats sitting in front of her and has her arms crossed on the table with her chin resting on them. Her eyes look vacant, like she’s processing something in her mind that she can’t manage to wrap her head around in a crowded diner filled with clanking silverware and boisterous chatter.
For some reason, looking at her reminds me of my mom back home. The way her eyes don’t seem to focus on anything, not even the ice cream spilling over the rim of the milkshake glass or the crinkled straw wrappers scattered in front of her.
“Hey,” I say, reaching her and placing a small peck on her temple. “Have you been waiting long?”
She shakes her head, her gaze still in front of her. I reach for one of the Coke floats and take a long sip. The waitress comes to the table, asking if we want anything. After a quick glance at Teeny, I tell her no and thank you.
“Is everything okay?”
She nods again.
“Teeny.”
She finally looks at me, and her eyes look so sad, I think she might start crying.
“Hey,” I urge, standing from my seat across from her and taking the one by her side. “What happened?”
I’m answered with silence and a quiet sniff as she wipes the sleeve of my hoodie she’s wearing across the tip of her nose. My hand runs over her shoulder, attempting to soothe away whatever’s causing her so much difficulty to tell me what she needs to say. “Teeny, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Another swipe across her nose and she looks at me. “I’m, um…I think I’m late.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confusion lining my words.
Her fingers fidget on her lap, and she exhales a shaky sigh. “I hadn’t realized…I guess I was a little busy or something, but my period…I think I’m late.”
“Like how late?”
