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“Mom, let me go?” I say as we exit the school grounds. “I’m off school property. There’s nowhere to run to.”
“You think I trust your sneaky little cock-sucking ass? Think again, missy,” she says, stuffing me into the nearly broken down car of some guy I’ve never seen before.
“Drive Daryl!” she orders.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and we take off…and from the back seat I get a glimpse of the driver, who I’d bet the entirety of the seventeen dollars and ninety-three cents I have to my name, will be the guy staying over tonight…assuming he doesn’t make up some excuse to high tail it out after he gets what he wants from my mom.
“You humiliate me by—“
“I’m not the one humil—“
But before I can get the word out I feel the back of my mom’s hand crack across my mouth and my head hit the back of the seat.
“Damn, Sheila. If this is the lead up to the main event I can’t wait to get you two home.”
“Shut the fuck up, Daryl…and drive,” my mom says, slapping him on the shoulder.
My mom’s chest is heaving as she turns her scornful eyes back on me. “You know this is all your fault. You scared off your father and I haven’t been able to land a man since. You think any self-respecting man is willing to take a woman with baggage?” She shakes her head from side to side as if I needed her to answer her own questions.
“I’m sorry, mom,” I say, tucking my chin into my chest. “Just let me go back to the school and
you won’t have to deal with my baggage anymore.”
“And embarrass me further? Hardly.” She pauses. “Hell, when I get home I’m gonna call the school and ask to speak to that teacher, apologize on your behalf.” She pauses again before continuing quietly under her breath, “Maybe blackmail him into a better grade so you can graduate top of your class and make your mom proud, get some scholarship money that we can use to help out with the apartment.” Another pause. “Is he single?”
I bury my face in my hands just before I hear Daryl’s laughter fill the car. “I knew you was a hoe,” he says, and then the car hits a bump, my head ramming into one of the rods that makes up the roof and everything goes black.
4
Alexa
An hour later and I’m still standing in the corner like a child. I can’t believe my mom came up with this punishment nor can I believe I accepted it. The only reason it worked is because she hit me with a low blow…I don’t stand in the corner and I don’t get to walk in my graduation, which would officially be my last chance to see my teacher again.
Granted, I’m an adult, but still…I’d rather just take this one for the team, the team being me and only me, and at least try and keep the peace in the house. Plus my mom is in the other room making weird noises so as long as I can hear those I don’t really need to stand in the corner. When they stop I just run over to where the six foot walls meet, ready in case she comes bursting in.
The worst part is actually being isolated in my room, as it gives my mind the time to wander.
Maybe my mom was right?
Maybe I’m following in her footsteps and only passed, or got what I wanted, because of…what I did with my mouth, and I’m not talking about the words that came out of it.
He did give me some very easy questions and from the glossed over look in his eyes it didn’t even look like he was paying attention to my answers, just like men don’t pay attention to my mom after she gives them what they want.
I’m such a fool, falling for this older man’s tricks. Or am I? Something about it just seemed so…real, although I have to admit to myself I’m young and naive, no matter how much I think I’m not.
My heart sinks and I hear the noises from the other room stop and I race to the corner just in time before the door comes flying open.
“You better be in that corner, young lady.” The door slams back shut and not a minute later my mom’s back at it.
Just as I’m about to carefully creep onto my bed, the sound of a motorcycle engine causes the window to rattle.
What the…?
I move quickly to the small window in my room, moving the curtains aside ever so slightly as I peer through, watching a giant of a man throw one leg over his sleek motorcycle.
Taking a moment to survey the front of our home before his big mitt reaches back toward his motorcycle, turning the key and then removing it before jamming it into his front pocket.
Taking long strides up to the front of our building as if he owns it, he beelines it right to our front door on the ground floor as if he’s been here a million times before. Like he’s the man of the house, despite never setting foot inside our place even though it looks like he’s about ready to kick the door in at this very moment.
