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She'd call until Abbie finally picked up, then she'd have to listen to her mother scold her for at least fifteen minutes, before prattling on about some mundane thing that happened at the country club this week.
Even though she knew it was coming, she sighed and answered, putting the phone on speaker.
"Abigail!" her mother screeched, and Abbie cringed at the harsh sound. "Why didn't you answer the first time I called?" This was the fifth call, but she couldn’t tell her mother the truth, could she?
She carefully set Ottie, her stuffed otter, down on the couch before she pushed from where she'd been sitting on the floor to her feet, leaving her sketchbook and pencils on her light purple coffee table. Her mother had a way of ruining her creativity, and she suddenly didn’t feel like drawing anymore.
She began pacing, her phone clutched in her hand. Mindlessly, her thumb slipped between her teeth and she began gnawing on the nail.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I was in the kitchen and didn't hear my phone."
Liar.
She'd totally heard it. She'd stared right at the screen and waited for the call to end. But every time her mother called back, a little more anxiety twisted her stomach.
"Right." She didn't sound like she believed Abbie in the least. Not that she blamed her. It wouldn't be the first time she'd ignored her mother's calls.
Abbie tugged on the bottom of her yellow hoodie as she glanced down at her leggings. The hoodie had a picture of an otter holding up a peace sign. It was her favorite, but even the cute image couldn’t keep her anxiety at bay.
"Are you listening to me, Abigail?" her mother asked sharply. She tried not to remind her it was just Abbie for the millionth time, so she bit her tongue until it felt like it was about to bleed.
"Yes," she grumbled. Her mother scoffed, telling her she didn't believe her in the least. Which was fair. Abbie hadn't been listening.
"Christopher's party is this evening," her mother said.
"I remember." Abbie bounced on the balls of her feet as she stared down at the picture she'd been drawing. She'd never forget Chris' birthday. He was her best and only friend.
He'd always played middleman when they were growing up, always taking the attention off her by being the golden child. She never resented him for it. She didn't mind living in his shadow. Without it, she'd be under her parents' full scrutiny twenty-four-seven.
Even when he was off in the military, he still somehow had their attention on him. From across the world, he was able to keep them from hounding her too much. But then she’d gotten older, and her mother started to take more notice. She sunk her claws into Abbie, and she’d only gotten free a year ago.
Her mother prattled on about the details and how stressful planning the party had been. Abbie sank back to the floor, setting her phone back on the table, and stared longingly at her sketchbook and pencils.
Another time.
She could finish the picture another time.
Grabbing Ottie, she hugged him tightly to her chest, staring blankly at the phone. She could've just hung up. Her mother would've never been the wiser. It wasn't like she really wanted Abbie's opinion on anything, she just wanted someone to listen to her.
Which might've been sad, if she wasn't talking about firing half the party staff for no reason.
Turning her attention back to Ottie, she squeezed him tighter. She wished she could take him tonight. Mostly for comfort, but also because she was always so scared of someone breaking into her apartment and kidnapping him. And if they did that, she'd have to hunt the motherfudger down and end them.
Dark thoughts.
But she guessed living on the not-so-safe side of town made you into a bad-bahookie. And that's definitely what she was.
A total bad-bahookie.
"What are you wearing tonight?" Her mother's shrill voice pulled her from her thoughts and she blinked a few times, forcing herself to refocus. If Abbie had learned anything from her, it was to do the exact opposite of everything she did. And the thing Abbie worked the hardest at not replicating? Her mother's voice. It was awful.
"Hm? Oh. My green dress." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder as if her mother could see.
"Really?" her mother sighed, and Abbie's hold on Ottie tightened. "You don't have another one?"
"I like that one." She felt herself closing down.
"It's just so..." Her mother trailed off, and Abbie closed her eyes, knowing what she was about to say. "Childish." She spat the word out like an insult, and Abbie wrapped her arms tighter around herself, giving herself a much needed hug.
