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I almost cracked at that last one. Her sickly-sweet tone washed over me time and time again. She crooned like a mother hen trying to bring her chicks back to the nest. But she wouldn’t sway me. All she cared about was the money. It was her fault. Everything. She didn’t give a shit about family. All she cared about was herself.
I went through more messages, stopping on one where she was fake sobbing into the phone. My mother never cried actual tears, not even at funerals. No, she hung onto my uncle and flirted with eligible men who had shown up to pay their respects to the departed. It didn’t matter who it was. My dad’s business associates, his family members. If they had money, she was fawning over them and making an ass of herself.
“Eden,” she sighed, like I was the problem. “I am your mother. I’ve always taken care of you. You know there are people in this world that would die to have a mom like me. Why are you treating me like this?”
I snorted at that. She had never given us kindness. She was the most unfeeling woman on the planet. My dad was the one who gave us kind words and gentle touches. If we skinned our knees or hurt ourselves, we’d go to him, not her. I went to her once when I tripped and twisted my ankle. She told me to suck it up and walk it off. She reminded me there were people in the world who couldn’t even walk. Those people were disabled, and they didn’t have the time to whine about their lot in life.
No, my mother was a cruel bitch. I unpaused her message so I could torture myself with more of her griping. I didn’t deserve the ability to ignore her. I needed to hear every word to harden my heart.
“What did I do to deserve such an ungrateful cunt for a daughter? How could God be so cruel to me? Why did your sister take her life and leave me with you? I should’ve sold you. She was so precious. Too soft for this world. You don’t even deserve to share the same blood as her. Why couldn’t it have been you? Your sister would have appreciated me. She wouldn’t have left me alone to go gallivanting at college.”
I stopped listening after that. Sold? What did she mean by sold?
I didn’t bother with listening anymore. I was sure the rest of the messages droned on and on in the same conflicting vein. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t grateful enough. I wasn’t anything. She was ashamed of me. She hated me. She wanted me back. She needed me. It went on and on. Every single day with no reprieve.
I headed to the library, hoping to run into Adelaide. She was a constant ray of sunshine in this shitstorm I called life. I loved my job with her. It was quiet and gave me time to study, since I couldn’t do it at home with all the racket. Just the thought pissed me off. Silas and his whores kept me up for all hours of the night. It’s like he waited until I was trying to work or getting ready for bed to fuck his many bitches. Like he was punishing me somehow.
I shook off thoughts of Silas and waved to Adelaide when she poked her head out of the office as the bell above the library doors rang.
“Hey sweet girl. How were classes?”
She always asked me about my day. I haven’t met anyone so interested in what I had going on for a long time. I mean, my dad was like that, but after he passed, no one gave a fuck about me or what kind of day I had.
“They were good. A little tiring. Especially my Italian class.” A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of Silas and his passionate looks throughout his lectures. He looked at me like he could see underneath my clothes. It left me feeling bare and vulnerable. I had to deal with him tomorrow, too, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Is the material too hard for you? Who do you have?” Adelaide reached behind her and grabbed a few books and handed them to me. They were small and skinny. One was titled Italian for Dummies. It made me giggle.
“It’s not too hard, just intense, you know? I guess that’s every class here though.” I flipped through the books, seeing some easy conjugation activities I could work on at home.
“It’s early yet. Why don’t you just drop it? You can always pick it up with a new professor next year or if you take it over the summer. It will probably be easier. That’s what most of the kids tell me about the summer courses.” She winked at me, sending me into another peal of giggles.
“I can’t. I want to get an internship with Bodies for Change,” I told her proudly.
“What internship is that? I’ve never heard of it.” Adelaide had already pulled more books out of her office.
“It’s an internship for a genetics program in Italy. I wanted to take the language courses to give me a leg up.” I started scanning books from the bin into the computer, checking them in.
“Hm, that’s a good idea.” Adelaide grabbed the books I scanned in and started putting them on a little cart. They would be headed back to the stacks soon. “Do you have a good chance of getting it?”
“Professor Caputo works with the top applicants, providing one-on-one advanced language and culture tutoring, so they can be a representative the university can be proud of. It’s the only reason I’m still in his class. If I do well, maybe he will put in a good word for me.” I found that tidbit out last week from a graduating senior who was helping me with my Italian homework.
“That’s smart,” Adelaide beamed at me.
I soaked up her approval. She had been around for a long time and most of the students treated her with respect. She was almost like a grandmother. I’d seen students in her office unloading their frustrations or concerns more than once. It was because she was warmer than most of the counselors on the staff. She treated every student as an individual. It was just another reason I wouldn’t drop this work-study. She helped me unwind. She didn’t judge me at all, and I appreciated that.
My phone vibrated, reminding me that my mother was going to be an issue I couldn’t avoid much longer. I didn’t have time for her. Not when someone was pranking me by calling me at all hours and hanging up. I sighed and sent a silent prayer that she would take the hint and leave me alone.
???
The next morning, I was running late. I had my coffee in one hand, my backpack over one shoulder, and a bagel hanging out of my mouth as I rushed to Professor Caputo’s class. He was already lecturing when I skidded into the lecture hall. The seat I always sat in had a hungover frat boy in it. As I scanned the hall for an open seat that wasn’t in the back, the frat boy spread his legs and cleared his throat.
“My lap is always open, sweetheart.” He pointed to it and smirked like I was going to swoon at his feet.
“It is, isn’t it?” I purred. Then I leaned forward to whisper in his ear like I was giving in to temptation. “The next time you open your mouth and talk to me like that, I’ll cut your balls off and put them in my backpack for safekeeping.”
Well, if he was going to cause a scene, I’d oblige. I was tired of men fucking with me.
“Get the fuck out of my seat,” I snarled. I wasn’t in the mood today.
