“Come on, Borris,” I say as I pocket my pack of cigarettes with the smiley face lighter.
We walk our usual route as I text Sienna and Lily back, opting for our group chat conversation, letting them know I’ve found a roommate.
At least that should get them off my back for a few days. They reply with questions about who it is, but I don’t answer.
I know they’re trying to help, but I just want to be left alone. I don’t want everyone in my life coddling me. I don’t deserve or need it, and I’m inevitably going to let them down, just like I did with Lorraine.
I focus on Borris as he chases a butterfly, and a thought weighs heavily in my chest.He’s all I have left of Lorraine. He was, after all, her dog. It’s the least I can do for her to look after him.
"You killed her!"Her mother's voice echoes in my head, how she left me shell-shocked at Lorraine’s funeral. I close my eyes and come to a stop, that well of emotion rising to the surface, and I try my hardest to force it back down.
It’s too hard. Too messy.
It hurts.
I stop by a dispensary, purchasing a pre-rolled joint. I light it, but the cigarette no longer takes away the edge, as I try my hardest to push away everything that revolves around Lorraine and her death.
When I turn onto my street, I notice a motorcycle parked outside the apartment building. Dante walked in with a motorcycle helmet last night. Maybe this is his bike?
I drop the joint to the ground, then step on it to put it out. I'm flying high at two in the afternoon, and I don’t give a shit. My neighbor looks at me like I’m the neighborhood eyesore as I slowly walk up the stairs to my apartment.
“Fuck off, Virginia,” I say, and she gasps in shock. She’s always been a judgy cow. I don’t need other people's opinions.
I make it to my apartment, but drop the keys at the door, for fuck's sake.
I pick up the keys and unlock the door, surprised when I hear my mother’s voice over my shoulder.
“Are you high again?” she asks, hand on her hip, those brown eyes pinning me with disapproval.
Oh, for Christ's sake. I can’t catch a break today.
“Hi, Mom.”
I take Borris’s leash off and step into the apartment, my mother hot on my tail.
“Excuse me, young lady. I’ve called numerous times. I was worried, so I’ve come all this way to see you stumbling into your apartment building. When are you going to give that awful stuff up?”
Please go away.
It’s a constant hum.
I grab the dog food from the top shelf with a sigh. “I could be doing far worse, Mother. Just leave me be.”
“Surely, you don’t want to end up like the Cliftons' daughter. Remember how she got addicted to ice and ended up going to prison? It ruined her entire family.”
I huff, having heard this story for the majority of my upbringing. “You chose to marry back into those wealthy circles, Mom, not me. I’m just keeping to myself like a good girl. Isn’tthat what you want? A quiet, obedient daughter?” I stare at her, exhausted already.
Her face softens, and I hate that, much like my friends, she sees through my armor. Sure, I might’ve been sassy with a sharp tongue before, but not like this. And I can’t stop. I just want them to stop tiptoeing around me and treating me like a child.
She runs a hand over her vibrant red hair. “Obedient is a stretch, isn’t it? Why aren’t you answering my calls?”
“Because I just want to be left alone, Mom,” I stress the point.
She folds her arms over her chest and stares me down. I pat the back of Borris's neck as he eats, then deliberately light a cigarette in front of her.
She grimaces. “Oh, now you’ve taken up smoking as well? For God’s sake, Romi. You’re a fucking mess. And that shirt is in poor taste.”
I smile, knowing it’ll only antagonize her more. It’s not that I hate my mother; we’re just very different. She so desperately wants to be admired—the do-gooder, the perfect wife—whereas I couldn’t give a shit. “Did Barry tell you to come over and check in on me?”
