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“Vincent, she is a teenager. She would just be bored by the adult conversation.”
I ball my fists at my sides, grinding my teeth to keep from yelling at my mother. Christ, I’m smarter than she’ll ever be.
“Faith is a grown woman, and I do not want her to leave, Margaret.”
His tone is firm, leaving no room for my mother to protest. My stomach flips again, and I feel almost dizzy from the emotional whiplash. What I would give for stable ground.
My mom looks angry and confused, processing what Vincent is saying. The sides of her mouth curl up in a sneer, and she stands up, patting down her dress angrily.
She wobbles a little bit on her heels as she marches forward but is fueled by anger at this point. Nothing will stop her now.
“Well, fine,” she huffs, standing up and shoulder-checking me as she shoves past.
I stand firm against her, refusing to give under her weight, but it sets her off-balance. She tries to catch herself as she loses her footing, but the four-inch-tall spikes on the bottom of her shoes betray her. She throws her arms into the air and gasps, falling onto her back with a shriek. The sound of her body hitting the floor is a dull thud.
All is quiet for a moment. A giggle escapes my lips before I can stop myself.
“Goddammit!” she yells, grimacing on the floor for a moment.
Vincent is half-standing, staring at my mother on the floor in disbelief. His hands are slightly up as if he went to go catch her.
Suddenly, a laugh bubbles out of him, from a deep place in his chest. The laugh builds in him until he’s chuckling with his whole body. My laugh builds, too, blending in with his in the most beautiful way.
Mom tries to roll over on the floor but loses her balance, falling back down again. Vincent and I really start to lose it then, laughing uproariously until we start gasping for air.
“Faith!” my mother screams from the floor. “It’s–you have to take me to the hospital, Faith! I really hurt my back. I think it’s broken. Owwwww.”
If I didn’t know that she was faking, I would feel heartless to continue laughing at her. I simply know her too well, and she is most definitely faking.
“You’re fine, Margaret,” Vincent says between chuckles. “Get up. Don’t make such a fool of yourself.”
In a moment, I brush against Vincent’s arm and feel the entire side of my arm become electrified. Vincent stops laughing and freezes in place, caught off-guard by the sudden wild-eyed stare he gives me.
His nostrils are flared, and for a moment, I think he might pick me up and carry me away.
Just like my fantasy…
He breathes in slightly, and even my mother stops moaning and groaning on the floor, her eyes fully on us now. The tension in the air is so thick, I can barely breathe.
He’s staring at my lips as he takes a shaky breath, and I think he might swoop in to kiss me—like in the movies. That imaginary bubble pops almost instantly when Vincent straightens up and suddenly turns, heading for the door.
He pauses at the entrance to our living room, breathing hard. My mom gives up on thebroken backact and pushes herself into a sitting position.
“Vincent? Are you all right?” Her voice cracking slightly at the end.
“I have to go,” he says in a strained voice, and I’m too shocked to say anything.
Did I do something wrong? Did he feel electrified too?
A moment before he turns away, my mom begins moaning on the floor again. I go to help her up, and Vincent leaves.
When my mom grabs my hand, I hear the front door slam. Shame, regret, and shock wash over me all at once. My mom seems about as surprised and embarrassed as I am.
I pull her to her feet, and she wobbles a moment before staying steady. I cross my arms and fight the urge to pout like a kid.
“Well, this calls for some cabernet,” she announces, turning on her stilettos and heading to the kitchen. I roll my eyes and leave for my room, where I can try and figure out what the heck just happened.
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