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Another buzz, this one in my mother’s tell tale pattern. Buzz-buzz-buzzzzzz-buzz-buzzzzzz-buzzz. I heaved myself off the couch and shuffled to the door, pressing the button without saying anything as I flicked the lock. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, not right now, not when I had to work tonight and be all smiles and cheery fake conversation. I’d never disliked working at Rudi, it had always been fun even when I wasn’t in the best mood, but it just wasn’t the same without Mack there with me.
Mom let herself in, two brown grocery bags cradled against her chest. “Hey, baby.” She didn’t sound like herself, but I was too deep in my hole of self pity to do much about it.
“Hey, Mom,” I said from my place on the couch, slumping deeper into the cushions as I scrolled the Netflix menu.
She ran her motherly eye over me, looking entirely unsurprised at my current state. “I knew there was something wrong at Christmas.”
Still not in the mood to talk, my only course of action was to deny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.” The fact I could see a ketchup stain on the front of my hoodie (Mack’s hoodie), and I was surrounded by a sea of used tissues and takeout containers weakened the statement considerably.
“You’re not fine, you’re droopy.”
“Droopy?” I almost laughed at that, almost.
“Yes, droopy.” She wasn’t wrong, droopy was a pretty apt descriptor of my general vibe right now.
“Thanks.”
“Chase, look at me.”
I shook my head, staring resolutely, albeit unseeing, at the television.
“Chase.” The softness of her voice threatened to break me and I wasn’t strong enough to fight it. I just wanted her to tell me it was all going to be okay, even if it was a lie. My eyes darted up to her face.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head again, blinking against the tears but it was no good, one leaked out, then another.
“Come on.” She shifted the bags onto one arm, pulled me off the couch and towed me into the kitchen. I perched on a stool and watched as she unloaded the makings of grilled cheese and hot cocoa onto my small kitchen counter, both of which were now so tied up with memories of Mack I just cried harder.
It shouldn't hurt this much, should it? Not when I’d done the right thing. It was supposed to feel less scary now. It didn’t. Instead, I was sure my world was caving in around me.
“Talk to me.”
I shrugged, any words I might have said lodging themselves in my throat. “There’s not much to say.”I miss him. I want him. I think I made a mistake.
“Don’t bullshit me, baby girl, there’s always something to say when someone looks as heartbroken as you do right now. It was obvious you weren’t ready to talk about it at Christmas, but I figured you’d call when you were ready. You took too long.”
A puff of laughter escaped. “I was an idiot.”
“Doesn’t sound like you. Start talking.” She asked as she warmed milk in one of my two pots.
I let my head drop onto the counter. This was going to be easier if I didn’t have to actually look at her. “Mack and I were kind of seeing each other, dating, whatever.” It was so much more than that, but I didn't know how to put it into words.
“Past tense?”
“Past tense,” I confirmed, rolling my forehead back and forth on the speckled granite, it was surprisingly comforting.
“So, what happened?”
“I ended it.”
“That does sound pretty idiotic,” she said with a snort I did not appreciate.
I straightened. “Ending it wasn’t the idiotic part, Mom, starting it was.”
“Why?”
I accepted the mug she handed me, ignoring the pang in my chest. “Because it just made things complicated. I told him it was a bad idea. That it was destined to end, that it was a one way ticket to hurt feelings, but he talked me into it anyway. He promised me we’d be okay, and surprise, surprise, we’re not.” I took an angry sip and swore as I burned my tongue.
