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It’s not like I’m lazy. I can cook myself a waffle.
It’s just… the last time I did that was to cook for the entire family before Kyle went off to college. Back before all of this went down. When Father wasn’t yet an asshole. When Mr. Slade hadn’t made such terrible decisions and destroyed his family.
Back when life had been perfect, basically. Erik and I were just starting high school, and we had been popular right from the start. We thought that life would always be good.
We were wrong.
Besides, Kyle loved waffles more than I ever did. I prefer pancakes.
I open my laptop and BS around a bit until I spy an article about the TV show Outlander. Who doesn't find Jaime absolutely swoon-worthy? I swear they don't make guys here like they do in Europe.
An idea comes to me, and I close my laptop as my mom stirs from her bed.
“I really need to…” My mom rubs a hand down her face.
She looks worn, tired. I can’t imagine the toll all of this is taking on her. She needs to get out of here.
She needs to leave.
And if leaving means leaving the entire country to get away from my father…
“Mom,” I say slowly.
“Uh oh.” She eyes me skeptically. “I know that tone. What do you want?”
“Just to talk,” I say smoothly.
“Right. What about?”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
She melts a little. “I do know that. Thank you.”
I lift an eyebrow and make a face. “Really, Mom? Most people don’t say thank you after someone says I love you.”
Even her smile is a bit wan. “I love you too.”
“I would do anything for you,” I continue.
“And I would for you. Is there a point with all of this?”
“Can’t we just talk?” I ask.
“We can,” she says slowly. “I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
"The thing is… Look, you're a bit nervous about divorcing Father. I get it. He's an asshole, and you don't want to have to deal with him any more than you need to, but… what if you didn't have to deal with him at all anymore?"
“What do you mean?”
“I wish you could go all Mr. Slade on Mrs. Slade on him,” I mumble.
“Katie! Please tell me you didn’t just say that!”
“Yeah, that was in poor taste,” I admit. “I’m not saying you should do something quite that drastic.”
“So what’s your not-so-drastic solution then?” she asks, her tone more than a little dry.
She knows me so well. I’ve done this before. Pretend I got a worse grade so they wouldn’t be quite so upset that I got a B minus. My mom, as much as she claims to love staying home with us, has always pushed for me to do well in school and to prepare for college so that I wouldn’t ever be in the position she’s in right now.
