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I hear the slur in her voice, and if I could, I’d hang up on her right now.
“And Trina has two grandkids already, and she’s only two years older than me.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply flatly. Of course, she brings up grandkids again.
The more and more she goes on, the more I look for an out or a chance to say,Okay, Mom. It’s past ten o’clock at night. I should go.
But that chance never comes. So on and on she goes.
Not once does she ask about my work or my life. Or acknowledge me at all.
I don’t know why I answer the phone when she calls.
Sweat pours down my spine as I pick up speed on my jog, imagining for a moment I could run away from this conversation. Not only do I have this talk with my mother in my head, but I also can’t get the memory of tonight with Eden and Jack out, seeing her as a mother.
There was something comfortable and inviting about being there with both of them. Not only is Jack an amazing kid, but Eden is a wonderful mother. And being there with them felt…right and wrong at the same time.
What does any of this mean?
Just when it feels like I’ll never get off the phone with my mother, there’s an abrupt pounding coming from the other side of my apartment. I quickly hit Stop on my treadmill.
Someone is banging on my door.
“Mom, I gotta go,” I say, interrupting her.
She gives me an offended-sounding huff, but I hang up before she can say anything else.
Grabbing the towel from the treadmill, I drape it around my shoulders as I jog to the living room.
“Clay, it’s me.” Jade’s voice sounds frantic through the door, and I don’t hesitate to tear it open. She’s standing on the mat outside my door, looking frazzled and upset, like she’s been crying.
She rushes into my arms, and I wrap them around her, racking my brain for what might have happened to have her like this.
Did Will find out about us? Would he really make her cry over this?
Is this my fault?
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask. The idea of Jade being so distressed bothers me more than I expect it to.
“Nothing,” she murmurs into my neck. “I just needed to see you. I missed you.”
Pulling away from my embrace, she grabs my face and kisses me hungrily.
Normally, I’d be all for it. But something is not right. So I pull away and stare into her eyes. They’re bloodshot and puffy.
“Jade, what happened?” I ask, closing the door behind her and pulling her into my apartment.
“I said nothing happened. I just…missed you, and I needed to see you. I’m tired of having to tiptoe around to be together. Why don’t we just come clean? We should tell my dad.”
My brow furrows as I stare into her eyes, looking for a sign that she’s being honest.
“This is about your dad? Did something happen?”
Tearing herself out of my arms, she lets out a huff as she crosses the living room toward my room. “Nothinghappened!”she shouts.
I can’t stand this. Trying to understand what someone else needs when they so explicitly try to hide it from me is exactly why I hate relationships. This cryptic, emotionally charged roller coaster is exhausting, and it has me feeling irritable.
When she notices my demeanor change from patient and worried to frustrated and tempered, she changes her argument.
