Thank god Christine is on our side. I couldn't handle having our jobs on the line on top of everything else.
The room moms slip into my mind and take over, the encounter replaying. I thought everybody was supposed to grow up, not act like high school bullies from an eighties movie. God bless Cass--I think I was too shocked to argue, so if she hadn't been there, I don't know if I would have even had the brain to stand up for myself. I thought we were on the same team. They just got me all those books, raised all that money for the library. It was like they've never met me before.
How quickly they turned on me.
Not on Cass's watch.
A little chuckle makes me feel better.
When my phone rings, I think it's her. But it's my mom.
I take a deep breath, put on mytotally finesmile, and answer.
"Hey, Mama." When I see her, I frown. "What's the matter?"
She looks as tired as I feel, worn down. Her eyes are red and puffy, her nose red too. She tries to put on her totally fine smileand fails magnificently.
"Hey, honey."
"Are you okay? Have you been crying?"
"Yes, have you?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Just a little. But I'm fine."
One of her brows arches. "Is it the mystery boy?"
"No. Mystery boy is good. Tell me what happened, Mama."
"Oh, well…" She hesitates, looks away. I get the sense she's second guessing calling me.
"It's okay," I say gently, worried. "You can talk to me."
"I know, honey. I know." She sighs, dabs at her nose. "Your father and I had a fight, that's all."
It happens, but they're so weirdly private. She never talks to me about it. Dad would probably freak--he'd rather pretend like everything is perfect than talk about his feelings or any feelings he's a part of with somebody else.
I don't know what happened, but it must be rough if she's calling me.
"About what?" I ask.
"You." The word wobbles and falls off as she starts to cry again.
It's strange and scary to see her like this. I don't know what to say, so I wait for her.
She sniffles, gets herself together enough to speak. "We just disagree on a lot of things where you're concerned. And I always defer to him. I always give him what he wants. That's on me." She pulls a fresh tissue and swipes at her nose. "God, I'm sorry, chicken. This isn't your problem. I shouldn't come to you with this kind of thing."
"Don't do that, Mama. It's okay. I'm here. Tell me what happened." I don't think she has anybody else to talk to and pray she'll talk to me.
"He just…" Her face cracks briefly, her breath hitching. "He just wants you under lock and key. He hates that you're there and not home with us. But it's--you're an adult. When does he think it's going to be okay for you to grow up and move on? I told him you were seeing somebody and he didn't like that. At all." She sniffles, brushes tears away. "But you've gotta grow up, baby. I want you to have all the thingsyouwant. You're not a little girl anymore. You're not five years old, you're almost twenty-five. And I'm just so sick of it. I am so tired of giving him what he wants. I'm tired of him not listening to me. I'm tired, Molly. I am so tired."
I'm reeling but working to keep myself together for her. "Why is he like this? Why won't he let me go?"
She looks away again, her chin flexing, fresh tears falling. "I don't think he can. I don't know if he ever will. He's scared, and he's tried to control your entire life in an effort to keep you safe."
Exasperated, I huff, "Safe from what? Mama, it's crazy, you know that, right? Like--safe fromwhat?"
This time, she starts to sob.What the hell is going on?Still I have no idea what to do. So again, I wait.
