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She sniffed. “There was a problem with the car and–”
“Dad fixes it at work.”
“Like I said, a water main broke.”
“So he couldn’t fix it because of the water main?”
“He was busy.”
“I thought you said he was bored.”
I couldn’t miss the huff through the phone.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Because I paid your rent this month and gave you a little over. You should have enough for extras… and I don’t mean beer or your gin.”
“What are you saying, that I’m not working hard enough?”
So much for being her littlepumpkin.
“My salary only goes so far. I’m paying my bills and yours.”
“All Miss High and Mighty now with that big job.”
“I’m a first-grade teacher, not a hedge fund manager. The resort offers you overtime, I’m sure.” If I had to pick up tutoring over the summer, she could add on some hours. “That’s time-and-a-half?”
“Overtime?” She spat out the word as if it was foul tasting. “Your father needs me home to feed him his dinner.”
“You mean open his beer,” I muttered to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you being so difficult?” I heard the familiar flick of a lighter, then a deep inhalation. The amount the two of them spent on cigarettes a month could cover their food bill. “After all the things we used our money on for you growing up, I’d think you’d be a little more grateful. Do you have any idea what I could have become if it wasn’t for you?”
There was the knife she always liked to poke me with, laced with the poison of guilt and passive aggressiveness. The same old story she told about how I was an accident. That I’d never been wanted and that I, personally and solely, ruined my mother’s life.
“Yes, I’m well aware you were to become the next top model or whatever it was, but you got pregnant with me and had to back out.”
“You took my beauty, the least you can do is–”
I’d heard enough of this week’s round of Mallory bashing. I was used to it, but it still sucked. “Just text me a list of groceries and I’ll see if I can drop them by tomorrow. I have to go.”
I hung up without saying goodbye, then tossed my phone aside, snagged the pretty yellow bra. My mother wasn’t going to change. Not unless there was a time machine and she swallowed.
“Shit!” I shouted at the ceiling, not caring about swearing. Let it go, Mal.Let it go.
Yes, let it go, because I had a history teacher to fuck.
7
THEO
“I’m here!”I called from the front door. “You two better be dressed.”
Scout scampered down the hallway to greet me just as Bridget stuck her head around the corner from the kitchen. She pushed her glasses up.
