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"You know I was young back then. I got swept away. Shit happens. Can we forget him? Unlike you, I don't like to dwell on it."
"Excuse me, young lady. Watch that feisty tongue of yours. You will meet us for dinner or else your student loan payments stop getting paid."
She loves to throw that dig in there. It's her favorite one.
The agreement was if I finished school and got my doctorate in psychology then my father would pay my student loan payments. It had been his idea, their graduation gift to me, and I accepted.
But now, when times get rough and I need space from my mother and sister, she loves to hang it over my head like a forbidden fruit.
I want to rip the Goddamned fruit off the tree and drop it on her foot. Nothing to hold over my head then.
"Why do you insist on using that against me?"
"I don't insist. I speak the truth."
"I'll call you later, my work phone is ringing."
I hang up before I hear another word.
~K~
"How wasyour visit with Ethan over the weekend?" I ask my mom over dinner Tuesday night. He treats her like shit but she still drives the hour to see him.
My mom shrugs and looks away. I wish I could take all of her sadness. I hate seeing her upset.
"Is he having withdrawal symptoms still?"
"Yeah. Not as bad, but he's antsy; kept asking when he's getting out."
"When's court again?"
"It was supposed to be tomorrow but they postponed it. I'm worried he's not getting the help he needs."
"I know, ma, I know. Want me to look for a sober house for him?"
"Yes, that'd be wonderful. How're you doing? Jane said you took off with a girl Saturday night."
That little weasel.
I nod. "Work's been crazy, but I'm holding up."
"Hey now, boy, don't you change the subject on your mama. I want to hear about this girl."
"There's nothing to hear, ma. We went out for drinks after the event. Speaking of which, I meant to text Jane today. Did she end up meeting anyone?"
"Yes, actually, she did. She has a date this coming Saturday."
"Good. She needs to move past Andy."
My mother chuckles.
"What?" I ask her.
"Aren't you calling the kettle black?"
I scrunch up my face. I'd stick my tongue out at her, but I'm not ten anymore. Instead, I toss a scrunched up napkin at her face.
She laughs, her face lighting up. Exactly what I like to see.
