AllFreeNovel
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“Ah, this and that.”
“Is that a sports car? And a Harley?” he asks, obviously looking very close now.
“Yeah. Good memories.”
“You get tattoos of memories?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve never had many possessions…”
“Why not?”
“Oh, because I told you we moved a lot. I moved a lot when I was a kid.”
“Why did you have to move?”
“Um, well, my mom was a drug-addicted whore, so when she got arrested, ran off with a new man, or just decided not to come home for a few days, I would get picked up by social services. There were also evictions when she didn’t pay the rent for months, so the landlord would lock us out. I gave up trying to hold on to anything of value. The things I remember, the things that I loved, I got inked when I had a little extra cash.”
I wait for RJ to say something out of pity so I can blow it off and say it was fine. I’m fine. I turned out okay, even if that’s not exactly true.
“When you saw all our junk in the garage, the things we took for granted, you must think we’re a bunch of pricks.”
“What? No,” I assure him when I finally glance over at him. “You aren’t pricks. You were lucky to have been born in this family together.”
“Maybe. Sometimes it’s not easy to remember that,” RJ says. His eyes lower to my bicep, and his head tilts. “What kind of sports car is that?”
“Oh, it’s not like a real one. It’s, ah, a toy.”
“A toy car you had as a kid?”
“Yeah. Air Hogs. Zero Gravity Laser.”
“The one that drives on walls and ceilings?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Those were pretty cool. I think we had a blue one and a red one.”
“Yep. Mine was blue. Pretty sure my mom stole it for my tenth birthday.”
“Stole it?”
“Drug addicts have a hard time holding down a job, so she was constantly stealing shit – food, clothes, jewelry, toys. Most of it she sold for money for…”
“Drugs?”
“Right. But sometimes, probably when she was high, she would give me something. She was a shitty mom, but I think she felt guilty about losing me.”
“Losing you?”
“Constantly having DSS take me from her.”
I’m not even sure why I’m telling him about the worst parts of my life. I guess it’s because I know he already hates me. Except I don’t think he hates me now. Maybe I just want to be honest because I know it’ll keep distance between us. Nobody who knows all my truths could possibly want me.
“Oh. Where did you live when they took you?”
“Foster homes all over the place. I went to nine different schools, but eventually, I graduated and got out of the system.”
“Do you ever see your mom now?”
