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When the going got tough, instead of trying to work out their issues, she took off.
I’d love to believe that my mother has changed, but I don’t think that’s the case. My guess is that she’ll stick around for a while and then, when he doesn’t shower her with enough attention, she’ll get fed up and leave.
She’s selfish that way.
A prick of guilt hits me for thinking that about my own parent. Unfortunately, it’s the truth. What I’ve come to realize is that my feelings for Pamela are complicated. They always have been. Part of me loves her dearly. The woman is my mother. But there’s also another part that sees her for the person she truly is. A self-centered narcissist. She had me when she was seventeen and struggled to make ends meet until Crawford swept into our lives and saved us.
Instead of being grateful, she treats him like a puppy she can’t shake loose. Everything in Pamela’s life revolves around Pamela. I’ve learned over the years to accept her for the way she is (hello therapy) and stop expecting her to be the kind of mother I’ve always longed for.
That being said, I don’t want her messing with Crawford. And I don’t want her to hurt him to the point where he tosses me out of his life because he doesn’t want any reminders of her lurking around his house.
Even the thought of that makes my blood run cold.
“Carina? Are you okay?”
My eyelids snap open and just like the past couple hours, I force a smile to my lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” Then I pushed myself in the studio, trying to burn off some of my excess emotion. Dance is the only thing capable of getting me out of my head.
Well…maybe that’s not altogether true. Ford does it as well.
But not this time.
She points to the books and computer spread out on the tiny table in the dining area. “I have an exam tomorrow. I’m pretty sure inorganic chem will be the death of me.”
I push away from the thick wood and swing into the compact kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “Nah. You’ll ace this test just like all the others. You’re wicked smart,” I say in my best Boston accent
“That remains to be seen,” she mutters before rubbing her eyes.
“Girl, please. You’ll probably wreck the curve for everyone else. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She snorts before switching topics. “Hey, how did dinner go?”
If there’s one thing I hate to do, it’s lie to Juliette. Over the years, she’s become one of my closest friends. Maybe we didn’t grow up together and only found each other in college, but that girl is my soul sister. The frick to my frack. My sister from another mister. Normally, we talk about anything and everything. Even the vibe I found while rummaging around in her underwear drawer.
Let me tell you—the fact she actually had one and it was so dang cute was a pleasant surprise. The memory of her embarrassment is almost enough to make me smile.
But I don’t necessarily want to discuss Pamela. The situation is embarrassing. Juliette’s parents are like an institution, and the four of them are the perfect family. It’s hard not to be jealous. Especially when I see how close she is to her mom and how much Natalie genuinely cares about her. Something in me longs for the same kind of relationship, even though I recognize that Pamela isn’t capable of it.
“It was fine.” I decide to give her a tiny bit of the truth, so I don’t feel so guilty. “Mom dropped by for a visit.”
Her eyebrows skyrocket. “Oh?”
She draws out the word so that it comes out sounding more like ohhhhhh.
“Yeah.” My voice turns flat. It’s impossible to pretend that I feel any kind of joy where that woman is concerned.
When I say nothing more on the subject, she asks, “How come?”
I jerk my shoulders, trying to loosen the growing tension that now sits between them. “She and Crawford might be getting back together.”
There’s a second or two of silence as she studies me more carefully. “Is that good news?”
Nope. It’s the worst possible news ever.
“I don’t know,” I say with forced lightness. “Guess we’ll just have to see.”
How long it lasts, that is.
“So…what does that mean for you and Ford?”
