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“Do that,” I’m distracted, still searching the party for any sign of her and coming up empty.
Much like the rest of my night, it just wasn’t meant to be.
Grannism—The world is full of assholes, don’t be one of them.
Laney
“Where were you?” My mother asks, scaring the piss out of me just as I clear the front door.
“Momma, you scared me,” I say, turning to see her perched in the kitchen in wait. Annoyed, I let the screen door slap closed behind me.
“I guess we’re even then.”
“I told you I would probably be out late. Breakup…had to be done.” Sitting on the couch, I pull off my boots and stretch my toes.
“I thought you liked this one?”
“This one? His name was Patrick, and he wasn’t for me.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted too much for too little.”
“Well, it’s three a.m. A text would have been nice.” Though she works nights, she looks exhausted, and guilt kicks in. I’m a fun-sized replica of my mother, with dark hair and olive skin we inherited from Gran. My mother is beautiful, but I can’t remember the last time she put on anything other than her work uniform or a robe. She’s only forty-four but has already aged herself well past her years with presentation alone.
“Sorry. I was going to come home earlier and got sidetracked.”
“Oh, and what was his name?” She sips her coffee at our old wooden breakfast table. The table Gran used to make homemade biscuits on. The image of her nose dusted with flour as she cuts the dough tugs at my heartstrings.
“Mom, geez, I’m not ready to move on.”
She raises a skeptical brow.
“All I know is his last name is Houseman. I didn’t even see his face.”
She chokes on her coffee as her eyes widen.
“Not like that! Ugh, forget it. You’re basically accusing me of being fast. I’m going to bed.”
“You need to be careful with your body and who you spend time with.”
It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. “You swore to me if I stayed with you through senior year you would give me some room to make mistakes.”
“I just don’t want you repeating my mistakes. Be patient, you’ve got to wait for the right tide to test the waters.”
“Not this again.”
And then she’s up on her feet, and ready for a fight I’m too tired to indulge her in.
I lift my hands palms up, in surrender. “Let’s not go down this road.”
Balled fists planted on her hips, she cocks her head. “You can barely afford to pay tuition with what your loans won’t cover. Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by staying here. This is half your home, but I’m still the one paying the bills.”
“And I’m thankful. So thankful. That’s why I paid the water bill and bought you some coffee this morning.”
She bristles where she stands. She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at herself. She’s always hated she hasn’t been more of a provider for me, she just can’t put words to it.
“I love you, Mom. I don’t want to fight. I hear everything you’re saying. I just have to do my own thing, and you have to trust me.”
