I rub at my eyes, hoping this isn’t really happening, that I’m not actually seeing her annoyed expression or hearing her flippant tone get rolling on her just parade again. “You were drunk, Mom. You had a minor in the car.”
“Oh, Eva’s fine.”
“Eva’s freaking out!”
Suddenly I’m standing. And yelling. Loudly enough to draw attention.
“Everything all right?” a deep voice asks from the doorway.
It’s Bryce.
“Yes, thank you,” Mom says.
“No, Bryce, it’s not.”
“Gracie,” Mom hisses. Then she smiles at Bryce. “We’re fine.”
He frowns but nods, eyeing me warily as he leaves.
“For god’s sake, Grace.”
“What were you thinking? How could you drive with Eva in the car?”
“Baby—?”
“Why did you even call her to go with you to Ruby’s? Do you know how screwed up that is? Taking a kid to that dump? She could’ve been hurt, worse than she already is.”
“You were always fine.”
“Was I? Do you know how many nasty guys hit on me? Tried to buy me drinks? Handed me drinks already made? Did you know some asshole followed me to the bathroom one time? I had to pretend I was about to puke just to get him to leave me alone.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “You never told me that.”
“I did!”
“I would’ve remembered that, baby. Did he touch you?”
“You wouldn’t have remembered. Even if you had, you probably would’ve said he was just being friendly. And no, he didn’t touch me. I learned how to fend off that kind of miscreant at a really young age, so thanks for that, I guess.”
I pace the room, so fucking angry and sad. So fucking over it.
“You know what?” Mom says, sitting up a little, her chin thrust out like it does when she gets mad. “I don’t like this attitude of yours lately. Everything I do seems to piss you off, and I’m a little tired of it. I think we need a fresh start.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means as soon as I get out of here and settle this with the police, we’re leaving. Away from Cape Katie. I’m tired of all the small-town mealy-mouthed crap here anyway. Everyone is always in everyone’s business. We need something bigger. Portland maybe. Some place where there will be more opportunities for you to find a job after you graduate next year.”
“After I grad—?”
But the words die on my tongue. I stare at her. She watches me, her annoyance melting into something hopeful, something needy and desperate, that same look that’s always simmering just underneath every other look, even when she’s telling me her grand plans for a trip to New York. That It’s you and me forever kind of look.
Before I can say anything, two uniformed police officers knock on the door. They look bored and tired and ask if I could please give them a few minutes with Mrs. Glasser.
I barely hear them. Barely register their scruffy faces and badges. I just nod, still trying to wrap my mind around Mom’s words.
“Go back to the motel and get our things together, all right?” Mom calls, and I drift out the door. “The car’s totaled, but I’ll figure it out when I get back in the morning.”
I don’t say okay. Nothing is okay. But as I walk down the hall, I know I’m going back to a dank motel room to pack up all of our belongings. There’s nothing to else to do.
