“Didn’t you want to go somewhere for dinner? I can wash up really quick. What time is it?” She gives me a long look and doesn’t respond. Panic fists my chest. “Mom?”
“Why don’t we order room service?”
I blink at her, unsure if I heard that question correctly. “Room service?”
“Yes. I think you should rest more.”
I stare at her, perplexed. We’re not a hotel family, and we’redefinitelynot a hotel room service family. “Are yousure?” She just nods, still studying me. “Okay,” I say slowly, waiting for her to come to her senses and change her mind. Instead, she passes me her phone, which has the hotel restaurant menu pulled up. I’m not very hungry, but I know I should eat, so I scroll through the entrées and try to find something appealing.
“Who’s Wes?” Mom asks suddenly.
My eyes snap up, my grip tightening on her phone. “What?”
“At the restaurant, Quinn mentioned a boy named Wes.”
“Oh,” I mumble and look back down at the screen. I pretend to keep scrolling through the menu like the simple mention of his name isn’t a fucking knife to the chest. “He’s just a guy.”
“A boyfriend?”
My shoulders tense up, and I think back to the night of my dad’s birthday party, where she scolded me for talking to our neighbor in the kitchen. No way am I walking into that trap. Not now. Not again. “He’s no one.”
“You can tell me,” she presses.
I shake my head because I can’t. “Mom, I said he’s no one.”
“Ivy, you can tell me. Just talk to me?—”
“I can’t, Mom!” I blurt, something inside me snapping. The dam breaks. The floodgates open. The apathy I’ve been drowning in for the past few weeks evaporates, and the anger I feel toward my mom crashes down over me. All the words I’ve been holding back rush out of my mouth—everything I’ve needed to say but haven’t had the courage to. “I can’t talk to you! Not about anything real. And honestly, I can’t figure out what you want fromthis.Why you’re even here, pretending like we have a good relationship when Noah literally had to convince you to come see me.”
“Ivy, that’s not?—”
“You’ve blamed me for Noah’s behavior at college for so long that I was convinced I was a bad person. And then I talked to Noah about it, and he said he didn’t even care that you guys didn’t make it to that game. His freak out had nothing to do with any of that! But you put that on me for so long and treated me so differently after the hospital that now, when you come to my school and try to be all nice and have some kind of weird open communication, I can’t do it. Because I genuinely do not understand why you want thatnowafter all this time.
“And yes. Weswasa boy who was maybe something like a boyfriend, and he told his parents all about me. I even met them in person when they came to visit him. And you know why I never mentioned him to you? Because I was afraid. Because every time I try to talk to you, you either judge me or compare me to Noah. It’s like you think I’m incapable of making rational decisions.”
“Ivy—”
“The truth is, Mom, that I needed you. Something happened to me, and I needed you, and when I tried to talk to you about it, you heard one mention of the word ‘party’ and shut me down. So if you’re wondering why we have the sort of relationship wherewe don’t talk, and I don’t tell you about a guy, and I can’t tell you that I’ve been depressed for months—no,years—that’s why.”
“Ivy...”
I ignore her, tossing her phone on top of the sheet as I scramble out of the bed. “I appreciate you coming out here to see me, I do, but I’m just not sure what you’re getting from this besides brownie points with Noah. I should go, anyway. I have homework to do.”
She doesn’t say anything as I pull on my boots and throw on my jacket. I think she might be stunned, or else so pissed off at me that she can’t even formulate words.
I leave behind the book she bought me. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from her. She can return it for all I care.
It’s a long trek back to the apartment, but anger fuels my footsteps, and I’m out of breath by the time I get there. Shut in my room, I drop into my office chair, open my laptop, and stare at the same blank page that’s been mocking me for days.
Back in that hotel room, something shifted inside me, and I expressed myself in a way I didn’t think was possible. Sure, my relationship with my mom might be more fucked up now than ever, but at least I took a leap for once. At least I allowed myself to feel again, and now that I have, I don’t think I can stop the frenzy of emotion from breaking loose.
My fingers hover over my computer keys as I debate what to write. I’m tired of running in circles. I’m tired of taking one step forward, two steps back. I’m tired of being afraid. I want progress. I want to cleanse my head and heart by setting free the truth.
The first step is getting it down in writing, and then maybe I can finally talk about it.
And if I can talk about it, then maybe I can finally face it.
And if I can face it, then maybe I can find a way to accept it and move on.
