Gio
I’m in the bathroom, cleaning my cut again like a responsible citizen, because Rava gave me a whole lecture last night.
"If you don’t follow the steps, you’ll scar," he said.
So now I’m doing it exactly the way he showed me. He would be so proud.
Someone knocks on the door.
If that’s him, if he somehow showed up at my place right now while I’m mid-thought about him, I’m kissing him.
Straight to the wall. Make-out session.
I walk to the door, already smirking.
Deep breath. I open.
Oops. It’s my mom.
Yeah, no. I’m definitely not making out with my mom.
"You could’ve called," I mutter.
"Idid," she says. "You ignored it."
"Did I?" I click the lighter once. "Must’ve been busy."
She walks in with this energy I instantly hate. My peace gets kicked in the face the second her heels hit the floor. She starts pacing in little circles with her arms crossed, like I’m fifteen and she just caught me sneaking out.
Newsflash: I’m twenty-three. Twenty. Three. As absent as she was back then, she’s trying to overcompensate now.
Now she wants to be involved. Now she wants to be present. Now she wants to spin around my apartment like a disapproving satellite.
It pisses me off. She wasn’t there when I needed a mom. And now that I’ve figured out how to live without one, she wants to clock in and do overtime. Great timing.
"Pistachio?" I ask, holding up the bag and popping one in my mouth.
"No."
Oh wow. She really woke up and chose zero fun today.
"Your loss," I shrug and eat another one, crunching extra loud on purpose.
"You’re busy with nonsense," she says.
"Something you wanna say, Ma? Because I’m pretty fucking sure me eating pistachios is NOT the downfall of this family."
She raises an eyebrow. "Should I even say something?"
"You don’t usually come here unless someone’s dead. Or I’m about to be."
She doesn’t laugh. "I saw a video," she says.
My smile vanishes.
Oh. That could mean a lot of things.
Did you see a video of me running from the cops?
