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No real support. No real sense of love.
And yet all my life, I’ve craved it. Even when my parents accidentally told me what they’d done with my college savings. Even when they started talking about their swinging escapades. Even when my mom got drunk on wine coolers one night and admitted that she only married my dad because she accidentally got pregnant with me. That she never really wanted kids. And oh, yeah, she still loves me, of course, but she hated being a mother.
As if she’s not a mother anymore.
Now, deep down at rock bottom, I realize I’ll never get what I want from this woman.
“What can I do then, sweetie? Do you want to FaceTime? Oh, I know, I can show you these new tops I got online, they’re a little scandalous but maybe you’ll think they’re funny. A good distraction, right?”
“Bye, Mom. I’m going to go figure out this mess.”
“Sweetie, hold on—”
I hang up. I shouldn’t have called her. It’s just, in my greatest moment of desperation, I thought my mother might be able to make me feel better. I should’ve known better. She’s fine when things are good, but awful when they’re not. And right now, they’re not.
I stay on that bench for a while. It dawns on me that I’m homeless. I have nowhere to stay at the moment. The only assets I have are a bank account with a few hundred dollars in it plus the credit card Gareth gave me. That might be enough to rent a room for a night, but beyond that?
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
My phone starts buzzing. I figure it’s Mom calling because she realized she’s a massive piece of trash. I almost don’t check, but I flip the screen over at the last second and blink at the name.
It’s Gareth. I answer before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Hello, Fiona.” He doesnotsound happy.
“How did the meeting go, Mr. Kane?”
A long, charged pause. “We need to speak in person.”
“Okay, sure. Why don’t you come over to my apartment? Oh, shoot, sorry, actually that burned down last night.” I don’t know why I’m snapping at him. I’ve never spoken to Gareth like this before. But I figure I’m as low as I’ll ever be, so why not lash out at my fictional husband?
Maybe if I’m bad enough he’ll punish me for it.
God, even the thought of Gareth spanking me isn’t enough to turn this horrible day around.
“It’s that bad?” he asks softly.
With real emotion in his voice. That’s a surprise, coming from him. I didn’t know the man could feel anything beyond a cold satisfaction at a job well done.
Then again, I felt something when he kissed me yesterday.
“Yeah, it’s that bad. The whole place is gone. All my stuff. All my memories. It’s all gone.”
“I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
I bite my lip. Even that small bit of empathy makes me blink with emotion. It’s more than the fifty dollars my mother offered.
“It isn’t your fault. Did I ruin that stuff with those clients? The Orin guy?”
“Yes and no. We’ll discuss that in a few hours. Where are you right now?”
“I’m sitting on a bench near my apartment building feeling sorry for myself.”
“You still have that credit card?”
“I do, yes.”
“Find me your nearby cross streets. I’ll send a car to pick you up. It’ll take you to the Grand Hyatt outside of the DFW airport. Rent a room with that card, get yourself something to eat, and wait for me there.”
