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“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the airport. I would’ve but as you can see.” She waves a hand in front of her, like I can’t see it myself.
“It’s okay,” I lie. The hallway is long and there are a few doors, all of which are closed hiding their contents inside.
“This place is huge.” The words slip past my lips before I can stop them. I mean to say them inside my head rather than speak them out loud, but obviously my mouth had other thoughts.
“Believe me, I know. I feel bad for the cleaning ladies sometimes, I cannot even imagine the amount of time it takes to clean this place. I told Henry a simple apartment would suffice, but he demanded the best.” She grins at me over her shoulder, and then turns, pulling me into a room that looks like a professional makeup studio.
Mirrors and hair products and makeup litter every surface. There are three ladies standing in the room, with smiles on their faces, but impatience in their eyes. My mother shoves herself down into a seat and forces me to take the one beside her.
I do not fit in here. No way, no how.
Once seated, she releases my hand, and I take the moment to wipe the sweaty palm she was holding against the front of my jeans. My eyes roam over my mother’s disheveled form that I somehow missed when she answered the door. I wasn’t really looking at her then, but looking right through her.
A pink robe is wrapped around her slim frame, and slippers that say The Bride on the front of them cover her feet. Huge curlers have her chestnut brown hair, the same shade as my own, wrapped up tightly. She looks like she’s getting ready for a beauty pageant, not a wedding.
“You have no idea how happy I am to have you here, sweetie. What’s it been, three years?” She bats her long eyelashes and smiles at me. I can’t miss the fakeness of her tone, or the fact that she’s talking to me like I’m one of her Stepford house friends rather than her daughter. It sickens me, but what am I supposed to do?
“Yeah, three years, Mom,” I say, my words clipped.
My intentions when coming here had nothing to do with making my mom feel like shit for not being there for me. Sooner or later, she would realize what she had done. Instead, I set out to better my life. I wanted to go to college, wanted to enjoy life, instead of worrying about what bill we were going to pay next.
If I thought my life was hard after we moved, it became a shit storm after my mother left. This was my one and only chance at doing something for myself, and even if I had to use Henry’s money and deal with my fake mother to get it, I would. There were worse things I could be doing with my life.
One of my mother’s makeup artists chose then to appear in front of her, like a magical fairy dabbing at her face, painting on her mask. For some reason, I was uncomfortable. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong.
“Look, I’m sorry, honey. We might as well get this out of the way. Me leaving had nothing to do with you. I just needed space and time. Things weren’t good between your father and me and there was no work to be found in that godforsaken town.” She pauses for a moment as if she’s thinking over what she just said before continuing, “The past is the past though. Now we have years upon years to look forward to.”
Go figure she would be happy go lucky about this, telling me to move on from something that she didn’t have to endure. The world was full of people telling you to get over your problems, the last thing I needed was my mother joining in on the fun.
“I didn’t come here to discuss the past. It can’t be changed. I’m going forward. I just want to have a decent end of the summer, register for classes, and enjoy your wedding.” The last part was a lie. I would rather eat glass then suffer through her wedding, but it’s part of the agreement, and if there is anything you should know about me, it’s that I always follow through.
She beams at my words. “Of course. I have your dress laid out in one of the guest bedrooms that I had put together for you. Once you get settled in, you can decorate it however you would like. Vance and Henry are beyond excited to see you.”
I fidget with my hands nervously. Vance. Five years have passed since I saw him last. Back then, we were friends, middle-schoolers with nothing but time on our hands, now we would be strangers that somehow knew each other at one point and time.
