She strapped it on and then they were finally on the road again, heading to a new destination. They’d made a quick stop at Hoover Dam—Jasmin’s definition of quick—and it would take four hours before they reached the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
His phone rang and as soon as he saw that it was his mother, he disconnected the call. She called at least every second day, but he’d learned not to have conversations with his family in front of Jasmin. It always led to questions, which he didn’t necessarily want to answer. It wasn’t just because he wanted to keep his life private; he hated seeing that look in her Jasmin eyes, that look of longing. She wanted what he had.
He sent his mom a text telling her that he would call her as soon as he reached his destination, then pushed his phone back into his pocket.
“Was that your mom again?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She kept her eyes on the road, but he didn’t have to see her face to know that the questions were coming. “What’s she like?”
A conversation about mothers in general was something he actively avoided. It stirred up too many issues, not just for her but for him as well. Her mother left her, and she was traveling across the country to meet her. His mother had been there whenever he needed her and all he’d done was push her away. And he didn’t only have his own mother; he had Momma B too. After Perry died, he’d pulled away from her as well. He hadn’t gone to see her once, because he simply couldn’t face her. He had the love of two amazing women,two moms, and she had nothing. It wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have.
“She’s like a mom,” was his swift and cold response.
“Yeah.” He noticed that fleeting brain-drain twitch and the accompanying perky smile. “I knowexactlywhat you mean.”
She used sarcasm to hide her hurt and that was precisely the reason why he avoided this topic like the plague. Goddamn issues. It would actually hurt her more if he told her what his mom was like, so instead he redirected the conversation.
“What’s your dad like?” he asked.
Silence. Long, empty silence. It made him realize that her dad issues might be worse than her mom issues.
“He’s…he’s great when he’s actually around,” she answered quietly. “When I was younger, I was his whole world. He used to read me a bedtime story every night. We’d cook together and have tea parties. My dad’s a crazy guy. He used to prank my nannies and blame it on me. He didn’t mind doing something completely ridiculous just to get a smile out of me. Like, whenI was innormalschool, they had a mother-daughter day and he put on a dress and came with me so I wouldn’t feel left out. The other kids teased me, but I loved him for it.” Her voice was calm and steady yet he knew it was all a front. “All that changed about three years ago. His business started growing so fast and he started spending more and more time away from home. In the beginning, he at least tried to make up for it when he got back, but…eventually it got to the point where he didn’t come home for months…and I was just there…all by myself. Tutors and nannies, I had the best of them, but…but do you know not one of them would sit and watch a movie with me…or eat dinner with me. I guess there are just certain things in life money can’t buy.” She remained focused on the road, not even turning to glance at him. “And once we moved here…I lost him completely. I’ve lost count of how many times your mom has called you…and he hasn’t called me once. Because it was such a gradual build up, I can’t pinpoint exactly when he stopped caring.” Another brain-drain twitch. Another perky smile. “But…whatever. I have eleven friends on Facebook now and I know you don’t think they’re…realfriends, but it’s a start. I am unstoppable! Hey, did you know Mandy sent me a friend request and her real name is Margaret? I would also have an alter ego if my name wasMargaret.”
Just like that her mood changed. She drained every emotion before it became a feeling and moved on. Watching her transition back to her usual effervescent self, he noted that they had yet another thing in common: emotionally, they were both fucked up!
She talked about the things that hurt her, but refused to actually feel the pain. He felt all the pain, but refused to talk about it.
She spent the next twenty minutes covering her pain with pointless stories of her trip with theAndysthrough Vegas untilhe couldn’t even see it anymore. It was obviously a practiced technique, and she was soon in fake high spirits again.
“I didn’t even know they were taking pictures until she tagged me in this photo where I looked so drunk. It’s so embarrassing, but Dean put a comment on it. He said I lookcute. Weirdo.”
Funny how that name was an instant trigger now, one that had his hands curling into fists.
“I have to admit, I blushed a little when I read that.”
He was gritting his teeth, trying not to listen as she jabbered on.
“I didn’t know this, but when I went to his profile, I saw that he’s in the process of becoming a pilot. How cool is that? At some point in the future, I’ll be able to say that I know a pilot. I think it suits him. He’s such a mellow kind of guy, he wouldn’t panic under pressure. Like, if the plane is going down, he—”
“Jasmin,” he cut in curtly, “we’re not friends. We’re not besties. I don’t give a fuck aboutDean. You can save your stories about him for Rachel.”
She was a bit surprised. He’d been listening to everything she said for the last twenty minutes without complaint and she couldn’t understand why he’d switched to asshole mode so suddenly.
“You’re such a grouch, Kevin! Like the Grinch who stole Christmas, like fucking Scrooge. So rude. You can be so nice one minute and then…You know what? I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“Ouch.” He sucked in a sharp breath and placed his hand on his chest for dramatic effect. “My heart broke a little when you said that.”
“You’re an asshole!”
On the surface, it sounded like their usual hateful/playful banter, but her voice hinted at a genuine undertone of anger. It was thewe’re not friendscomment that sparked it off. Overthe last few days, they’d bonded—jokes and dances, even a little kiss. But a bond wasn’t friendship and it seemed like she was more upset withherselffor foolishly thinking it was. He didn’t bother rectifying it because he wanted her to stew in that anger. He didn’t like seeing her hurting because of her father and he sure as fuck didn’t want her swooning over Dean. Her anger was directed at him. It was a feelingheinvoked, and he was going to own it.
“You know what you are?” she huffed. “You’re an A-class jerk with no redeeming qualities. You are the stealer of my thunder. You are the Steve Harvey to my Miss Philippines. No, actually, you are the Kanye to my Taylor Swift, and that being said, I want you to know that I don’t think Kanye is a real rapper. Take a second and let that sink in.”
“That one cut me deep, Jazz.” He tried his hardest to fight a smile when he saw her lips stiffen into a tight line. He liked her angry side. It was adorable. She didn’t even know how to be mean.
“I don’t even know why I talk to you,” she snapped.
