She practically raised you.
A knock on the door jerks me out of my thoughts, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. I know exactly who’s on the other side.
“Come in,” I call, pushing up to a seated position.
Sure enough, Mel stands in the doorway, toting her signature glass of red wine. Judging by the slightly unfocused look in her eyes, it’s not her first.
“Got a second?” she asks.
I nod and gesture to the foot of the bed. “Sure.”
I hate how tiny my voice sounds. I hate that I’m hoping she’ll hug me and love me and take care of me. I hate everything about this situation, but it’s not in my nature to change it. I wouldn’t know where to start anyway.
Mel perches on the edge of the mattress, and I get a rush of anxiety. I do my best to appear curious and concerned and not like someone who eavesdropped on her entire argument this morning.
“So,” she says, and pauses. I search her expression for heartache. For regret. For fear. I don’t see any of those emotions. Her eyes are empty. “Things aren’t great between Landon and me, as you’ve probably picked up on. They haven’t been good for a while now.”
She says it matter-of-factly in that typical Mel way.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say carefully.
She nods. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I’m moving out, Violet. At the end of the month.”
“So…you guys broke up?” I ask, unable to hide the shock in my voice. I never heard the conclusion to their argument, but it sure seemed like Mel was refusing to leave. Did I misunderstand the situation? Did she not blackmail Landon after all? I wonder what changed her mind. Better yet, what did Landon say to make her leave?
“I’m moving out next month,” she says in that same apathetic tone. “But I have to go back to California for a few weeks. For work.”
I see straight through her lie this time, and my stomach turns over. “Oh, okay.”
“That means you can’t stay here anymore, Violet,” she tells me, and I wait for her to express her disappointment that we haven’t spent much (or any) time together. I wait for her to apologize for being so wrapped up in her problems with Landon. I wait for her to make plans with me for the future.
She doesn’t do any of that.
She doesn’t say anything.
I swallow, staring down at my hands, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “That’s okay, Mel. I think I found an apartment, anyway,” I say, and it’s not a total lie. There’s one I’ve been eyeing as a last resort, but I haven’t pulled the trigger yet. “I just need to sign the lease.”
Mel nods, and I can practically see her checking me off a mental list of things to figure out. “Good. That’ll be good.”
I glance up at her, unsure of why I feel so shy. Maybe because I just realized that I don’t know the woman sitting before me. Not really. “Will we…will we hang out when you get back in town?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?” I repeat.
She huffs out a sigh, the same one she always gives when she’s talking to me. “Violet, I told you when you showed up here that it wasn’t a good time.”
“Then when is the right time?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a crystal ball that can see the future.”
My heart sinks as I finally understand what she’s been trying to tell me all along. I’m not a priority. I will never be a priority. Not to her. “Okay,” I say, deflated.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Okay,” I say again.
She nods and pats me on the shoulder, and I wonder when she became so cold. After Mom died? After moving? After Landon? I don’t remember her being this way growing up.
