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I nod back, my throat even tighter now. “I'm doing all right.”
I really mean it—I'm doing all right. I have my job at the bar and my apartment and whatever this thing is with Griffin. I can’t even think about him right now. I’m so ashamed. How could a person like him even fathom what having parents like mine is like. I’m reminded of Christmas and how I told him we usually don’t do anything. I lied. My mother texted me and begged me to forgive my father on Christmas Eve. The only thing she wanted was for us to be a family again. The only thing I did on Christmas was cry alone in my apartment until my mother came over and said she was sorry and that she loved me, and we stayed up watching Christmas movies and pretending like the day before never happened.
I don’t know what this Christmas will be like. I don't’ know if she’ll be here or back with her husband. I don’t know anything other than that Griffin offered me an escape. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I couldn’t say no to that…just in case.
My emotions must show more than I think because my aunt makes a sound I know all too well. That pitiful one she gives to my mother.
“Oh, honey.” My aunt crosses the kitchen, pulls me to my feet, and gives me a tight hug. I rest my head on her shoulder and breathe slow and deep so I don't keep crying. I really don't want to spend my whole visit in tears. I'm not the one with the black eye, and I know crying about it won't help.
It takes me a few minutes to stop. My aunt grabs me some tissues from the box on the counter, then goes to finish the tea while I put myself back together. She brings both mugs to the kitchen table and we sit around the curve from one another with our tea. I hold the warm mug in my palms before taking a sip, letting the warmth steady me.
“Renee,” my aunt says. She's a lot like Mags. She can always tell when something's on my mind. It's not in my head, really, it's in my chest. The feeling of guilt is so heavy at times like these that it's hard to take a deep breath. I do it anyway and drink some more of my tea. It tastes better than when I made it, though it's the same kind.
“Yeah?” I say, when I feel like I can speak again.
“It's really no trouble at all to have your mom stay with me. I'm happy to have her here, even if that means having her here for the rest of our lives. You don't have to worry about me… or her.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I know you're okay with it.”
I really do. My aunt doesn't want my mom with him, and she's an honest person. She's not lying about wanting my mom to stay with her. I honestly think it would be the perfect situation.
I look at her, and there's nothing but concern in my aunt's face. The pressure on my chest feels even heavier. If I leave without saying anything, it'll be there until the next time I visit. It'll probably be there for the rest of my life. I don't see the way I feel changing.
I just wish it would. I wish I could have everything together, including my mom in a place that's good for her, and I wish I could wake up every day without all this painful guilt.
“She would have left him in the beginning if it wasn't for me.” My aunt's eyebrows go up a little at my words. “You and I both know that.”
My aunt reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. Her fingers are warm from the mug of tea, and she gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Renee, you know this isn't your fault, right?”
I don't answer her. Cause the first time she left him I begged her to go back home. I was a kid. I didn’t know any better and I told her it was true love. It is my fault. At least a piece of it. And I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never believe in true love again.
Griffin
When I pull up to the entrance of the drive-in movie, the sign has the title of the movie and the genre in all caps below it. HORROR, it says.
I look at Renee with a serious expression. She's sitting in the passenger seat of my car, leaning forward a few inches to read the title of the movie. There are pillows and blankets in the back along with popcorn from the gas station and boxes of chocolate covered peanuts that she told me a while ago were her favorites.
“Oooh, a scary one?” Renee asks, her eyebrows raised. She looks beautiful tonight. Red is her color. Her coat is already off and thrown in the back seat, and her dark red sweater dress nearly matches the colors of her lips. “Horror for our first fake date,” she says comically.
“Are you brave enough for it?” I say back and then add, “It was our only option, unfortunately.” We were supposed to go out yesterday but something came up for her. On Sundays there’s only one movie that plays so…here we are. I’m happy with it though, if she is.
Her smile falters, and she looks down at the center console. “I'm brave enough for anything,” she says, but she doesn't sound like she believes it. Or like her mind went elsewhere.
I want to ask her if everything's okay, but I bite my tongue because I’ve already asked once. She was so quiet on the drive over, and the tone of her voice makes me think there's something going on. It's like that day in the bar when she came in looking sad, and I want to know what it is so I can fix it.
My hands twist on the steering wheel and I stay quiet. I have the feeling Renee would think that wasn't a pretend-date thing to talk about, though, and trying to start that conversation might push her away. Then we'd be back to one-word answers over text.
When I glance back over at her, she’s smiling and I’ll take that. The last thing I want is to mess this up with her. So I drive ahead with a forced smile and pray this movie is good, or if it isn’t, we can cuddle up and get these windows to fog.
There are ten or so other cars at the movie tonight. I pull into the lot and find a spot that has a decent view of the screen without being too close to anybody else. We don't need them looking in the windows on our “pretend date.” In this spot, we're mostly behind the other cars, too, so nobody will see us, really.
Renee rolls down her window just enough to position the speaker and when she's done, she glances over at me.
I give her a serious look. “I have to ask you something.”
“What?” she asks, obviously worried. My heart squeezes. I'm just trying to lighten the mood and make her feel less down, and I'm screwing it up already.
“Do you like to have a huge bucket of popcorn at the drive-in? You can say no, but I didn't want to assume you were a popcorn person and make an ass of myself.”
