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“I’m here,” I said.
Though I’d really rather be anywhere else. I don’t know when Mom and I became this bitter camp of antagonists rather than family, but I’d never felt further apart from her than I did right now. What did it say about me that when I looked at her, I saw the enemy? I also saw all the things I’d wished she’d been and hated because she wasn’t. If I spent too long on it, I wondered what had I done wrong. It sucked.
But here was where we were. “What do you want?”
“Is that really any way to talk to me?” Mom demanded.
I shrugged, because it hurt and I was tired. “It’s the best I can do at the moment. Would you rather I ask you how Europe was again? Oh wait, you never mentioned a trip, so I don’t see why I should.”
“I don’t understand what has gotten into you,” Mom said, almost exasperated. “Why are you doing this?”
What? I frowned. “Doing what?”
“This,” she said, flicking her hands at me. “Why are you doingthis? Why are you fighting me on every little thing?”
“I’m not,” I said. “Fighting you on every little thing would require you be around. You’re not. You moved out, remember? You have your new boyfriend. You know, the married dude back there who happens to be the father of the arrogant boy?”
Honestly, I wasn’t trying to be quiet, and I had no idea how much carried back to the guys, but the flicker of a smile on Archie’s face told me he got that much.
Embarrassment flooded me as I caught Coop’s eye and the tautness in his jaw. If Archie could hear, then the others could, too. Archie understood crappy parents. The other guys had good ones.
Caring ones.
Jerking my attention back to Mom, I stared at her. She frowned. “What happened to you?”
“Life.” Because I wasn’t discussing Homecoming with her. Not a chance in hell.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. There was a message from Mr. Wittaker on the screen.
Mr. Wittaker:Any questions regarding the emancipation from her direct her to speak to her lawyer and to have her lawyer contact me. Do not answer her questions directly.
Fine by me.I cleared the message then shoved it back in my pocket.
“Frankie,” Mom exhaled as she took a step toward me. “Whathappenedto you?” She nodded toward my arm. “How did you get hurt?”
“I fell down.”
“You are not that clumsy,” Mom snapped. “There were messages… I had calls from the hospital about you being admitted. It was why we came home.”
A week later.
“Must not have gotten those messages really quick.”
“We weren’t in Europe on a vacation.” From concerned to annoyed. “We came to get you to check on you, to take you to our place. I think you should still come. You don’t need to be on your own.”
“But I’m very good at it. I’ve hadyearsof practice. You might almost say I’m an expert.” The longer we stood here, the angrier I got. I resented her. I resented that she was casting me in the role of bad guy because she’drushedhome a week after I’d been let out of the hospital and I seemed ungrateful. I resented that her life revolved only around her—her wants, her needs, and her interests.
More, I resented that she dragged me out of school to do this. Going back had been harder in some ways than I’d imagined and nowthis?
“What do you want, Maddy?” I almost said Mom. Almost.
But I suddenly understood why Archie did it.
‘Mom’ implied a relationship that just didn’t exist anymore. If it ever had.
She recoiled as though I’d slapped her. For the first time in my life, she retreated a step and disappointment flooded her eyes. Or maybe fear. I had no idea.
“Seriously, what do you want? You have your boyfriend and your perfect new place and you haven’t looked behind you for a while. So what do you want?”
