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I plaster on a well-practiced expression of contriteness. “I’m sorry, Mom. You were saying?” That little snippet of sass should keep her busy for a minute while I figure out a way to calm her ass down.
I get comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs my mom insisted on me having despite it being too large for my minuscule living room. I watch as she circles the sturdy wooden coffee table her heels wobbling a little on the plush carpet. She’s back to lecturing full steam, all worked up and throwing words like harlot and jezebel my way. No wonder I say shit like ‘cad’.
And to think when I left The Last Stop and pulled into my apartment parking lot twenty minutes later, I was relieved, counting on some time alone to sort the mess I’m in out. Instead, I was greeted by my mom’s Buick and the woman herself sitting inside my home.
My parents own the apartment complex I live in, the only one in Coldwater, so obtaining a key isn’t an issue for them. Neither is invading my privacy it would seem.
I look around the staid apartment and vow once again to move. This place is the pits, old and outdated. My parents almost qualify as slumlords. The walls need to be scraped and painted over again, the insulation is nonexistent, the carpet is worn and musty and the plumbing is awful on a good day. I can’t believe they have the nerve to charge the exorbitant amount of money they do for this shithole.
My mom has stopped pacing, opting instead to hover angrily over me, wisps of her graying stylish short hair clinging to her damp forehead. Physical exertion has never been her strong suit. The slightest whiff of work makes her sweat.
“Where is your mind at, Velma?”
I have an answer, but she won’t like it.
“Well?” she snaps when I fail to reply in what she deemed was a timely manner.
I stare at her, seeing for the first time the ugliness and contempt she normally reserves for others —my sister included— thrown at me.
I’ve always done what was asked of me, always towed the proverbial line. But not this time. I might have reservations myself concerning CJ but however I decide, it will be my choice.
Without moving from my relaxed position, I tell her what I should have years ago. “Well… I guess I’m thinking about why you broke into my home. I’m also wondering how who I do or don’t sleep with is any of your business.”
“Velma!”
“You might want to save the shock because I’m not done. I turned down a damn good position at that hotel in Lockton and came home after college like you asked me to, only to work in some stuffy office ‘watching’ over Daddy’s and your stupid investments. It was a bogus job. I didn’t do anything but run errands for you. I hated it but being old dependable Velma, the good daughter, I did it. Well, I’m not doing that shit anymore, Mom. You pushed Irina away with your nonsense and if you keep going, I’ll follow in her footsteps.”
I didn’t raise my voice, kept a smile on my face, and hell, I still haven’t moved from my seat. But my mom knows I’m dead serious. I only got away from her fake job because of the resort being built here. It looked good to have a Freeman working there. In my parents' minds, it gave them more clout. And since I went to school for hospitality, I was a shoo-in for the Customer Relations Manager position, answering only to the General Manager, Thomas. I love my job and not just because it got me away from my parents. The hospitality field has always interested me, that’s why I got a degree in it.
My mom blinks at me for a minute, stunned by my harsh words yet cool demeanor. Finally, she slowly walks away and sits on the loveseat opposite me.
“She’ll come home, won’t she? I’ll get to see my grandbaby, right?” Mom blinks back tears as she gazes at me, her voice trembling. She cares. It’s just hard to see underneath all her arrogance.
“Maybe if you stop calling the baby ‘it’, and your grandchild like you just did, she will,” is my honest answer.
It’ll take a little more than that but it’s a start.
She nods and then smiles. We talk for a bit longer about Irina and how happy she is. Then I lay out some hard boundaries including not coming into my home unannounced— or uninvited.
She leaves a couple hours later and I feel lighter. We made some progress today and I hope to continue it.
Alone, I stew over my other problem, CJ. He’s expecting me to come to his cabin tonight and I don’t know if I have the strength to deliver.
It would be so easy to chalk his attraction to me up to boredom or something. You know, like he’s tired of females his age and wants to see what an older woman would be like. Once he’s done exploring, he’ll go back to tight twenty-somethings. And I’ll be alone again.
But the way CJ looks at me, as if I’m his world says otherwise, and as much as I want it, I’m not sure if I can trust it. What if I’m wrong and he’s just a really good actor? With the way I feel now, without having had a complete conversation with him, he could break my heart in two. I like him way too much to be normal. Maybe old age has made me desperate and short-sighted. What am I going to do?
Four hours later, it’s nine PM and I’m pacing outside CJ’s door, kicking myself for making the trip. After tearing my hair out and pacing my floor, I decided to ‘just go for it’ and slipped on a pair of my sexiest pajamas then hopped into the car. A decision I now regret.
It took me almost an hour to get up the mountain from town and the whole way here I debated turning around. Somehow, I convinced myself to keep going— or rather my vagina threatened to rebel if I did. So here I am… about to knock on a door I have no business being at wearing boy shorts and a tank top underneath a winter coat. Sexy I am not.
I pull my coat tighter and check my surroundings for the millionth time, ensuring no one is out to see me and my fall from sanity. The cabins are spread apart but one can never be too careful. Besides, it’s embarrassing enough that CJ is about to see how horny and desperate I am, no need for the other residents to witness it as well.
I come to a stop and raise my hand then jerk it back, staring at the taunting gateway to paradise. Turning my back to it, I mumble, “This is ridiculous, Velma. Just go home and love yourself. You’ve been doing it for years and it's worked out just fine.”
Right. I’m leaving. This was a bad idea and thank God he’ll never know. Being lonely is not a good reason to sleep with a guest. No matter how attractive they are.
I take two steps towards the stairs and then I’m flying backward, letting out a loud shriek.
