“Are you busy, Mia?”
“It’s hair day so a little.”
“I didn’t get a check from you this month.”
“Oh, I ran out of checks,” I fib. “And I don’t use them enough to justify the cost of ordering more.”
“So that means you’re not going to pay your bills?”
“Of course not. You’ll get it.”
“The tax payment is due at the end of next week. No later. We’re already past the first deadline,” she huffs. “Now there’s a late fee.”
“Can you give me the mailing address? I’ll have the bank issue me a check and I’ll send it directly.”
“No, you can send it to me as usual. It might be better if you send me the money with one of those apps everyone is using now. You just have to walk me through how to set it up.”
Mandy has never been easy and is exactly why I am extremely motivated to never return home and live with her. She is forcing me into a corner and I can’t stall any longer. I’m going to have to tell her.
“I’m going to need a little more time.”
“Time? I thought it was about not having a check.”
“I’m running short this month.”
“You make twice what I do and you’re running short? What are you spending your money on up there, Broadway shows and cabs?”
“The cost of living is higher here. I have a lot of bills.”
“Then bring your narrow ass back home and help me share the bills of this monstrosity of a house your grandmother left us.”
“My job is here.”
Correction, my jobwashere.
“You should have never bought that high-end car. You obviously can’t afford it.”
“I bought the Prius used and I wouldn’t say that it’s high-end, just energy efficient.”
“I’m sure it costs more than my monthly bus fare to my job, so in my opinion, it’s high-end and was a stupid purchase.”
“This from a woman who spends half her paycheck on cartons of Newports,” I blurt out.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I didn’t–“
“I raised your little ungrateful ass, Mia Taylor, when I didn’t have to. I put clothes on your back and made sure you had three squares to eat when your father didn’t give a damn.”
That’s exactly not how I remember it.
“I’ll get you the money,” I say flatly. “I’m sure Grandma is watching and worried.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I’ve made Mandy upset. I can hear her taking a deep puff of one of her cigarettes to calm herself down, and no matter how I feel about her questionable mothering skills, I can’t help but to feel guilty. She is my mother, after all. I owe her some degree of respect.
“I just meant that I don’t want to let Grandma down.”
