Suppressing a sigh, I swivel around in my seat and stare out the windshield. College starts up again soon, and it’ll be back to our regular routine. Penny will go to her sitter during the day while I’m in school and I’ll be her stand-in parent at night.
Resentment burns hot in my gut. Both my parents are this way. They’ve chosen their careers over love or their children. No wonder they couldn’t stay married. Dad’s not even dating anyone back in St. Louis, because he’s forever on call at thehospital. The entire two weeks I was with him, we had dinner together twice. I spent the rest of my time alone, interacting with his neighbors more than him.
Mom is no different.
In a way, she’s worse. She leaves me to babysit at night, always claiming she’s running errands or visiting a friend. I’m not stupid. I know she’s seeing someone. Since she keeps it a big secret from me and won’t bring him around, I imagine there’s a reason for it, though I can’t imagine what it could be.
When we pass our gated luxury apartment complex, I frown and shoot Mom a questioning look.
“Where are we going?” I ask, stiffening in my seat.
Normally, I wouldn’t worry, but it’s how she’s acting. Something’s not right.
Mom sighs heavily as if cluing her daughter in on her life is exhausting and a total waste of time. I grit my teeth, wanting to bite out something mean, but hold my tongue. I’m eighteen now. She could kick me out on my ass. I wouldn’t put it past her.
“You’re being weird, Mom.”
“I have to tell you something,” she says in a tight voice. “I’d prefer if you’d leave the drama out of it. Not in the mood today.”
She’s never in the mood. If you ask me, my mother has the emotional capacity of a gnat. It doesn’t exist. Deep down, I know she loves me, but she isn’t keen on showing it. That’s the part that hurts.
“I’ll keep my dramatics to myself,” I grit out. “Tell me.”
Her head turns my way, and she gives me one of her weird smiles. It’s not one she typically uses on me. She saves it for patients, teachers, old people. Polite and borderline condescending.
“I got rid of the apartment.”
Several seconds pass before I can make sense of her statement. “What do you mean?”
“Moved us out,” she says with a huff of impatience. “We don’t live there anymore.”
Panic swells up inside of me. “What about all my stuff? My books? My car?”
“I nicely asked you to avoid the dramatics,” she reminds me. “Yet, here we are.”
“Mom,” I grind out. “You just randomly upped and moved us. How did you expect me to respond? Why? What happened? Are we falling behind on rent or something?”
“Don’t be silly.” She waves me off with her hand. “I make plenty of money and you know it.”
My eyes drift to her other hand holding onto the steering wheel. A fat diamond sits on a thick gold band wrapped around her ring finger. Nausea washes over me and my mouth waters with the need to puke.
“Y-You got married?” I croak out, jabbing an accusing finger at her hand.
“I did. And you will respect my decision.”
I shake my head, confused as to what happened in the two weeks I was gone. “I don’t understand. Were you even seeing anyone? This feels abrupt. Are you okay, Mom? Do you need to get on your meds again?”
I know bringing up her postpartum depression is a touchy subject, but I refuse to let it go unaddressed. There were a few days after Penny was born, I thought my mother might end her life, or ours. She was that shattered and barely hanging on by a thread. Medication and therapy pulled her out of that deep, dark hole.
“I’m feeling perfectly well,” she says, irritation in her tone. “You’ll like Owen. He’s a good man. His children are nice too.”
Children?
It all slams into me at once as I come to terms with what she’s saying. Not only is she married, but her new husband has kids.I’ve been uprooted from my home, and we now live with these strangers. Could she not have thrown a text my way?
I sit frozen in place, still processing everything that’s happening. Penny chatters happily in the backseat, clearly not as traumatized as I am.
Is this new family nice to her?
