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“I never asked you for anything.”
“You neverhadto ask! You’ve been given everything! Every, single, thing!”
“That’s enough! Both of you, please stop.” Looking to my mother, he says, “Let’s take a minute to calm down,” and turning to me he says, “Go upstairs, ok?”
I’m about to do just that when he adds, “And Sarah, I never want to hear you speak to your mother that way again, is that understood?”
Flip and inconsiderate, I shrug as I turn back and waltz past them. Stopping to grab my keys, I turn them over in my hand, see the logo for my shiny new import, and then drop them back on the entryway table. I don’t want her thinking I need one single thing from them.
Down the road I’ll look back on this exact moment and regret it. I’ll wish I could take back the words. But that’s a fool’s game because once spoken, there’s no going back. And there are no words of apology that will ever erase the hurt I cause when I land my parting shot.
“Well, you’re not my father and she isnotmy mother, so that won’t be too difficult.”
Chapter Twenty
LIAM
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
“You’ve asked me three times already and we haven’t even left New Jersey.”
“You don’t look sure, that’s all.”
“I’ll never be sure, might as well just go for it, right? I mean, when will it ever be therighttime?” She turns to face me. “But can you swing this? Tell me the truth.”
“Got no job, remember? I’m free as a bird.” I squeeze her hand when I see she’s now looking out the passenger-side window. “Hey, I was going for humor. And I do still have my shifts at Dunes, as far as I know, so I’m good. And by the way, none of this is on you.”
“It’sallon me. My club, my friends, my boyfriend—“
“Ex, correct?”
She laughs for the first time. “Oh, you can’tgetmore ex than he is.” The smile drops as she looks down to her lap. “But I am sorry, Liam. I’m sorry they did this to you. And sorry most of all for what my mother said back there. I don’t know why I feel the need to defend her right now but she’s not an awful person. I seriously can’t believe she said all that crap.”
Not an awful person? I’m thinking to myself that her mother is one class-A bitch, but don’t voice that opinion. “I don’t really care what she thinks.”
“You absolutely shouldn’t, but when people judge you, it hurts. You can say that it doesn’t, but it does.”
“It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”
She looks to me and nods, and I’m grateful for her honesty. There’s certainly no need to sugar coat it.
“Are you sure—”
I cut her off when I can sense she’s about to ask the same question for the umpteenth time. “Yes, I’m in. I love road trips.”
She smirks. “Been on a lot of spontaneous road trips, have you?”
“This is actually my second one, and I've got high expectations. The last one was a bust.”
I’m not sure if she remembers what trip I’m referring to until she says, “I’m hoping you can write an essay with a happy ending this time.”
When we pass a sign for a service station, she says, “Mind if we stop? I could use some caffeine.”
“Sure.”
“Should I call home?” she asks, looking uncertain.
“Uh,” I look to the dashboard clock, “we haven’t been gone that long, but maybe you should. Your father looked all right but your mom looked pretty rattled when you all went back inside the house.”
