I’m not sure why those words make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She’s said them many, many times.We need to talk about your grades. We need to talk about how much you’re drinking. We need to talk about your choice in girls.Somany things we need to talk about which usually boil down to me not being good enough. But there’s more to it this time.
I can feel it deep in my bones.
I sit up slowly and look up at my mother, who moves to the edge of my bed and sits down on the far corner. “I can’t keep doing this, Emerson. Something needs to change.”
“Yeah well, I’ll be out of your hair in three months.” Honestly, I can’t wait to go to college. It’s something I’ve been dreaming about since I can remember.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
My hackles rise. “College?”
She nods her head, her face looking grim. “We aren’t going to pay for your college, Emerson.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I jump out of bed so fast, I nearly trip as I face her. “You aren’t paying for my college? How can you pull that on me three months before it starts. I did what you two asked me to do. I finished high school. I didn’t embarrass you both by getting kicked out. I graduated.”
She holds up one hand, silencing me and showing no emotion whatsoever. “Sit back down.”
Is she serious right now? She drops this bomb on me, and she just wants me to settle down and act like my world isn’t crashing down. I hated high school—but I was looking forward to college. To go out in the real world—away from my parents’ pretentious rich friends. Away from their expectations. I was finally going to get to breathe. And now, it’s falling apart.
She stares at me until I finally give in—sitting back down on the edge of my bed. “You didn’t let me finish.”
I cock my brow at her, words lost on me.
“We aren’t going to pay for your college unless you do something for me. This summer.”
“Do what?” I question, uneasiness still rocking my entire body.
My mother folds her hands in her lap, looking slightly nervous—but that doesn’t seem right. My mom is never nervous. Always poised and perfect. “You’re going to go stay with your Aunt Kelly this summer.”
“My Aunt—” I scrunch my nose, racking my brain for what the hell she’s talking about. “The aunt I’ve never met? Your sister?” We don’t really do the whole family thing in the Chapman family. We have quiet, boring holidays where it’s just the three of us. Summers are the same. There are no big family reunions or vacations.
I remember my mom mentioning she has a sister a couple of times, but not often at all.
“Yes.” She seems almost pained. “She and her husband own a ranch or farm or something. They raise cattle and corn, I believe.”
I gawk at her. “What?”
She straightens her shoulders, and her eyes lock on me—that no-nonsense look back on her face. “They could use some help this summer. You’re going to be that help.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not, and watch your mouth.”
“I’m not a farmer, Mom. I wouldn’t be much help.”
“She just needs a strong person to help her out. Don’t worry. She’ll direct you on what to do.”
She stands up, like she’s about to leave. Like this is just happening and there’s nothing I can do about it. Over my dead body. “Yeah, I’m not going to some farm in the middle of nowhere all summer just so you can get rid of me.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you, Emerson. I love you.” I snort, even though my stupid heart clenches in my chest, actually hearing those words from my mother. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard her say that throughout my whole life. She sits back down on the bed, and for a moment Ithink she regrets saying it, but then she places a small hand on my knee. “I wanted you so badly. So badly. I thought for sure it wasn’t going to happen, but then it did. You were born, and I was so happy.”
She didn’t show it. But I manage to keep quiet. I know my mom was forty when she had me—which, in Kansas City, isn’t that old. But still, it’s Midwest old to start having kids. She married my father when she was twenty-five, and they tried for years. Then for whatever reason, they had me. And I’ve been letting them down ever since.
“I had so many hopes for you. I wanted to be a mother.”
“What does this have to do with me working for your sister for the summer? A sister you don’t even talk to.”
“That’s not true. We talked the other day when she agreed to give you a place to stay and even a weekly paycheck.”
