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“Okay, for now,” she agrees, shaking her head. “Oh, by the way, yourbuddycame earlier and brought you coffee and donuts. I drank the coffee, though.”
“Really, Cora?”
All I get is a shrug from her. “At least you have the donuts.”
Karma’s head peeks through the ajar door, smiling innocently. “Actually, I ate the donuts.”
Can I have one thing in this place?
“Are you kidding me?” They both smile before they disappear from my sight. “Thanks a lot, bitches!”
Their laughs echo down the hall as they walk away. I rush to change my clothes, getting ready to deal with the crisis upon us. It’s when I’m alone that I realize that Stanley brought me breakfast.
Am I reading too much into this, or does it seem like something more? Whatever it is, I don’t want to know. I don’t need a distraction right now. I’m postponing this emotional evaluation, even if Stanley isn’t making it easy for me.
Shaking my head, I push that issue to the back of my brain and pull out a pair of pants and a white shirt that belonged to my brother. I get rid of yesterday’s clothes, throwing them into the dirty pile, and put the clean ones on. After I deal with this, I’m going to take a long shower to wash away the shameful parts of last night.
Once I’m changed, I spot my phone charging on the night table next to Karma’s stockings. I can’t help the curve in my lips, knowing that Stanley put them there. I grab the phone, unplugging it from the charger, and search for our conversation, typing a short message.
Me: Thanks for the coffee and the donuts. And everything. Srry for being a pain in the ass.
His answer comes a couple of seconds later.
Stan: no worries. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while, Backstreet Girl.
Oh, God.
Me: If you ever mention that again…
Stan: it’s okay, Morticia.
Me: I hate you.
I don’t see what he answers because, even when I get the message, Ash’s mom leaves the apartment, throwing the door on her way out. If she went that way, I know that the things between them are not great.
I go to Ash’s room, and as I get closer to her door, I can hear her cries. Sobs break the perpetual silence in the apartment. Her door is barely open, so I push it gently. Ash is sitting on the floor, her legs flexed, and her elbows on top of her knees. She’s hiding her face between her hands, crying harder than I’ve heard her before. I’ve known all of her cries. The first time she failed a test, and when she lost her grandmother, but somehow, I’ve never heard her as defeated as she is now.
I sit next to her, wrapping her with my arms, sheltering her in them. She lets out all of the pain that’s suffocating her without uttering a single word; her tears are already expressing more than her words will ever do.
“I’m so tired, Bree,” she pronounces in a sob, backing away, wiping her tears with her palms. I can see her face red and puffy. A couple of strands of her black hair are glued to her wet cheeks.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I question, leaving her with the choice.
Ash bites her lip and shakes her head. A couple of tears stream down her face.
“I don’t even want to think about it,” she expresses in a sigh.
Her answer makes me uneasy. Something’s not right about this, but I don’t want to pressure her into talking about something that she’s not ready. She’ll tell me eventually. I just hope that it isn’t too late. I don’t want to see her spark go off while handling her life and her mom.
“Fuck your mom, honestly,” I say, refuging her in my arms. “She can suck a huge dildo for all I care.”
Ash laughs and sniffs.
“I know,” Ash whispers. “But it’s so hard to fight with her.”
“I know, I know,” I mumble back, still caressing her back. “If you get snot all over my arm, I’ll cut you.”
She chuckles.
