“I did, sorry, things are intense. I haven’t had much free time. Obviously.”
“Well, I guess so, because you look like an absoluteragamuffin,you poor little thing! Are you even sleeping? You’ve got massive bags, sweetheart. Do you need me to send more of the hairspray I like so your wispies aren’t so obvious? Whatever you’re using isn’t up to the job—you look like you got electrocuted.”
She laughed, and I felt the old familiar tightening in my throat, like my airway was being reduced by half.
I didn’t take the bait. “Nope, I have plenty, thanks. So what’s up?”
“Do I see poppy seeds in your teeth?” she play-scolded, leaning closer to the screen. “Did you eat a muffin, you naughty girl?”
Instead of using my phone to check with her watching, I held it close to my body and leaned to look in my rearview mirror, even though I knew my teeth were spotless. The last thing I’d eaten was yogurt, hours before.
“Your screen must be dirty, there’s nothing in my teeth, Mom,” I said evenly.
I saw a flash of frustration on her face, because she still wasn’t used to my deescalation techniques. The old me would’ve yelled at her to stop scrutinizing me. The new me didn’t care what she thought about the way I looked. I knew for a fact that she hated when I wore dark colors, which was why my practice wardrobe was almost exclusively black and gray now.
“Well,anyway, I wanted to talk to you because someone fromThe Scoreemailed me about doing an interview with you. Guess they didn’t hear about the change in your support team.” She sniffed and focused on something just off-screen.
My break with my former coach and my wanna-be coach mom had definitely made the news, so I wasn’t sure why anyone would’ve reached out to her for access to me.
“Yeah, Mel told me about the interview. They must’ve figured out that she’s my point person now.”
My mom’s expression went stony again, because she hated that I used Melanie’s nickname. She considered it disrespectful. Plus, I think she was jealous of how close we’d become and what we’d accomplished in just three years.
“I hope you’re not thinking about going on that show, sweetheart,” she continued. She blinked at me, waiting for me to agree with her.
I never knew what angle she was working, so I was both surprised and not that she didn’t want me to do it.
“Oh? And why is that?”
I fidgeted with the pull cord on my parka, below the screen where she couldn’t see it. Yeah, I had the tools to deal with her now, but the squirrelly feelings skittered back every now and then.
“It’s a distraction,” she replied, ever the authority on how I was supposed to live my life. “You need to focus. Weknowwhat happens when you’re not focused.”
Shots fired.
“No, why don’t you tell me,” I said, smiling pleasantly with my non-poppy-seeded teeth on full display.
It was the baitiest response ever, and not what my therapist would’ve suggested, but I couldn’t resist a little pushback.
“Quinn,stop. Okay? Why do you always do that? Making me the bad guy. Don’t you dare blame me for what happened—”
“Mom, I’m not blaming you,” I cut her off, because it was the same tired script and I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. “Okay? We’re just having a conversation.”
The idea took shape as we stared at each other in silence. I didn’t want her thinking that the reason I wasn’t going to do the show was becauseshethought it was a bad idea. I couldn’t let her believe she had any influence on my decision-making now.
“And yeah, I’m doing the interview.”
It felt good watching her expression shift from placid to silent fury. It was rare that I made her speechless.
Iwasn’tgoing to agree to the interview, even if they found someone other than Ben to do it, but she didn’t have to know that yet. I could say that there was a scheduling conflict and that’s why it didn’t happen. Anything but let her take the credit for me skipping it.
The corners of my mom’s mouth turned down. “Fine.” She shifted her focus away from me and started swiping at her screen, squinting as she poked at it. “Okay, it’s done. You got your way. Happy?”
I heard a faint ringing in my ears, a distant siren. An emergency alert in my head. “What’sdone?”
“Well, I just emailed them back to tell them you’ll do it, like you wanted. Right now. You won, Quinn. Happy?”
I watched the color drain from my face on-screen, real time.
