Page 10 of Big Man on Campus

“I’m . . . with someone,” he says.

“With . . . Kace, do you have a girl in there?” She whisper-shouts as if I somehow can’t hear her outrage, but I don’t blame her. I can never blame her for anything ever again. Mrs. Jennings gets a permanent bye from me for any and all kinds of bad behavior for the rest of her life, even if said rudeness is aimed at me, inadvertent or not.

“Take it easy, Mom. You took me by surprise. Besides, I’m an adult, remember?” Kace’s voice emanates banked resentment, like he’s still a kid trying to carve out his independence from his parents, belying his claim of adulthood.

I barely hear his mom’s next words and I move closer, god help me. So I deserve the slap of what I hear.

“It better not be that horrible drunken slut Glory Rose, Kace, because so help me—”

“Mom. Stop.” Kace’s words are firm, but I hear a slight edge of panic. “You should leave now. We can have a late lunch.” I don’t hear what she says to that, but I hear movement, the sound of shoes on stairs, then the sound of the front door closing with a more than solid thud.

Jumping back from the door, I finish dressing, put on my sandals, and get myself ready to leave. Or as ready as I can be with the bubbling nerves inside me, making me feel on edge, uncomfortable in a whole new way.

I burst through the door, leaving the safety of his room, and rush into the hall to see him coming up the stairs, dejection and anger in his heavy steps and fist tight on the railing. He looks up when I rush down the stairs toward him, urgency flooding my veins.

“You didn’t have to turn your mom away to stay with me.” The words rush from my mouth as I reach him, grab on to his arms. Tremors ripple through me, and my thudding heart urges me to keep running all the way down the stairs and out the door and not to stop until I reach my home and my bed. Back to where I came from three years ago when I last saw him. Asking forgiveness is still hard. Too hard.

“I had to get rid of her. No way was I going to let her see you here. I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Glory.”

“Don’t worry about protecting me. The last thing I want to do is come between you and your mother.”

He snorts. “There’s nothing between me and Mom right now but thin air and a ghost. She’s been gone—”

“That’s not true. She said she wanted to catch up today.”

He smiles at me, but I don’t think he’s listening to me, not really. He has his mind made up about his mom, and who knows? Maybe he’s right. What do I know? Nothing except that she lost her baby girl, her daughter Sky, and I forgive her for anything else after that.

Even if it means she’s neglected her son?

He wraps his arm around me where we stand halfway down the stairs and he buries his face in my hair.

“Let’s go back to my room. I’ll call her later.”

“When I’m gone.”

“She’ll never know you were here.” His voice is sad. He compresses his mouth, erasing the plushness of his full lips into something dour. He knows it’s all wrong.

“You lied about being with me.” My voice is a whisper. He lets out a long breath, closing his eyes for a beat before staring back into mine with those mesmerizing gray-green eyes of his.

“I’m sorry, Glory. It killed me to hide you, but I couldn’t . . .”

“Couldn’t be mean to your mom. I know.” I stroke his cheek, trying to be okay with his choice to be mean to me instead. “It was the right thing to do. I’m stronger than she is.” The truth strikes me, buoying me, but it doesn’t erase that feeling of a thorn stuck in the side of our reunion, of the possibility of a future.

He nods and we go down the stairs stand in his front hall at an impasse.

“I have to go. My parents will worry if I don’t get home.”

“I don’t know what to do about us right now, Glory. You heard her. I can’t tell her about you without hurting her. Badly.”

“Is she seeing a therapist?” It’s all I can think to say, because he’s right, but we can’t go on like this forever and I don’t want to think about going back to the whole not-seeing-him-at-all existence.

He shrugs. “Yeah. Not that it’s done much good as far as I can tell. She’s still in denial, not rational. The only thing she’s moved on from is Dad. And me.”

“I’m so sorry, Kace. It takes time. It’s different for her. Sky was her little girl.” I shudder, not even wanting to imagine that level of torturous pain. “I give her credit for walking around and breathing.”

He shoves a hand through his hair and moves closer. “You’re right. But that doesn’t help our situation.” I gulp with the gravity of his words.

“Is this a nonstarter, then?” My body almost seizes up in protest as I ask the question, clearly stepping out of bounds of my bravery capacity. I grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering.