The shuffling footsteps of my mother returning make me open them again as she slides into the booth.
“I like this place; everyone is so friendly.” She places the menu down and shivers, folding her arms on the table. “You’re okay picking up the check, right, baby?” she asks.
I stare at her, the joyous little bubble that had been floating around inside me bursting with a jolt of pain.
“Huh?” I ask stupidly.
“You’ve got your fancy job now. I thought it would be nice to treat Annabelle to something good for a change. She must be so sick of your cooking and being cooped up in the house all day.”
My fingers tighten over my knees, nails digging into my skin.
“I saw all those suits in your closet,” my mom continues. “Where did all that come from? We still need to pay rent, you know. Seems like you’re spending enough on yourself to be able to cover the bills for the next few months.”
She makes the face I hate as her voice goes high-pitched.
“Could you lend me three hundred dollars, baby?” she asks without a pause from one sentence to the next. “I have a credit card bill I need to pay, and you know how it is. I don’t get my next paycheck until Friday.”
I don’t speak. My insides shrivel up as I watch her hands move erratically around the table as she adjusts things, lining up the menu with the corner of the table, pushing away the salt shaker.
I don’t remember the last time my parents paid for anything to do with the house. All their money goes to booze. I had to take a third job at the start of the year just to make sure we had heat through the winter and now she’s sitting here brazenly asking me for money.
I have never felt rage like this; it’s as if my whole body is on fire.
And since when is Annabelle sick of my fucking cooking?
“Amelia?”
I meet her gaze, lightning rods of fury shooting through my veins. I want to flip the table and scream.
“Can you lend me the money or not?” A muscle twitches in her cheek.
“Sure,” I say, the word no more than a whisper.
She beams at me as Annabelle reappears, hobbling toward us, visibly struggling, and I force myself to stay seated, knowing how my sister hates being coddled in public.
My mother doesn’t know that rule, though, flicking me a judgmental glance and getting out of the booth to help Annabelle settle in next to her.
“Baby, you look so tired. Are you sure you don’t want something other than just pancakes? Maybe some bacon?” my mother asks her.
Annabelle is out of breath but trying to hide it. “No. I’m good, Mom. Really.”
My mother strokes Annabelle’s hair, and I stare out of the window, trying to calm myself down enough that I don’t punch my fist through the glass.
I think about the money sitting in my account, the freedom we will have once we’re away from our parents. I won’t have to pay for their rent or food anymore. If we find a small enough place, the total costs might even be less than what I’m paying now.
While my mother and sister talk, I subtly pull out my phone and check my banking app. As I stare at the healthy amount on the screen, my fingers start to tremble violently.
What if I’ve fucked this up? What if I’m fired? And what if Sterling House won’t place me with another client?
I want to cry, the panic rising up in my chest. Only a few days before, the numbers in my account made my heart soar with excitement. Now, it’s like a lead weight has landed in my gut.
“Amelia!”
I look up.
“You could at least be present at the table, put your damn phone away,” my mother snaps.
I pocket it, looking out of the window. I don’t say a word for the rest of the meal. My mother tries to engage with me, evenberates me by telling me to ‘cheer up’. Annabelle frowns at me the whole time, asking if I’m okay, but I can’t utter a syllable.
