This was supposed to bemymoment.
All my old classmates have moved on, but I stayed home to help my grandfather with the farm. Poppa says we can afford for me to go away to school, but there’s always something. Some crisis that drains our savings. And I’ve always—always—put everything aside to help.
But this?
This is next-level Janet. Worse than the time I missed my calc exam to drive three hours and bail her out of jail. (Indecent exposure. A music festival. Don’t ask.) I’m almost twenty. An adult. I need my own life. I don’t even know what that looks like. But I do know it’s not minding my mother or tending Poppa’s animals.
So I’ve done everything I can. Worked my butt off. Taken every possible science and math class at the community college. And this trip? It’d finally felt like Janet was doing something forme. Supporting me.
How wrong I was. It was never about me. It was just another way for her to get what she wants.
She always gets what she wants.
“Um, okay.” I try to buy time, because I have no idea what to do next. “We were supposed to go home yesterday.I already had to change our flights once. It’s not cheap.”
No reaction.
“We came all the way from New York.”
Silence.
“Like…in America?”
The receptionist’s nail file stops mid-stroke. She gives me a slack-jawed scowl. “I ken where New York is.”
I rub my arms. I’m tired and cold, and I swear, it feels like it’s actually wet in here. “Well, Janet’s my mother, and?—”
A laugh explodes from her. “Yourmum?” Her eyes shine as she scans me, head to toe, like she’s just realizing something. “Well, your mum fair showed our lads a good time. Singing and carrying on in the pub. One too many pints, I hear.”
Heat flares in my cheeks. “Yeah, sorry,” I mumble. Ifcarrying onwere an Olympic sport, Janet would be a gold medalist.
“The woman wouldnae even tell us where she lives.” The receptionist leans against the desk, smirking. “We had to look through her things to find your number. That’s how we got you.”
My stomach tightens.
“I thought old Dan—this is his place, aye?—I thought he might have a cardiac when he learned the woman’s from America. Your mum’s accent is as Scottish as a square sausage. The man was besotted. I was beginning to think he might propose.” She stops filing, pins me with a sudden, assessing stare. Then she shakes her head and lets out another explosive laugh. “And she’s yourmum.”
Like it’s the funniestthing she’s ever heard.
“Yep.” I force a smile through gritted teeth. “My mom.”
Dan wouldn’t be Janet’s first proposal. She stands out. Always has. She’s movie-star beautiful—fresh-faced, delicate, luminous. Like a porcelain doll.
But, wow, is she ugly on the inside.
My whole life, she’s been consumed by one thing: herself. Her desires. Her beauty. She’s the only star in her personal sky, and that star is a black hole, insatiable for an ever-growing list of esoteric demands. Poppa once said she’s selfish as a fox and twice as sly.
Poor Poppa. My grandfather didn’t know what hit him when Janet showed up on his doorstep, newly married to his son. She and my father met during a whirlwind weekend at some Scottish music festival. They were only supposed to stay at Poppa’s farm while they got on their feet, but then my father died when I was a baby.
And Janet—with no family, no job, no plan—never left. Poppa took her in. Tookusin. It’s been just the three of us ever since. I wouldn’t have survived my mother without him.
I mean, it wasn’t all bad. There were times when my mother was pure magic. She was the mom who’d call in sick for me with elaborate stories about exotic diseases so we could spend the day at the zoo instead. She was particularly delighted by the chimps who’d throw their poop at the tourists. Those days, she made me feel important, like her co-conspirator.
By middle school, I knew she wasn’t like other moms. But it was my eleventh birthday when she stopped beingMomand becameJanet. She promised a massive party—balloons, a sundae bar, pony rides. She invited my wholeclass.
And then…nothing.
No party. No presents. Just me, standing in our empty yard, apologizing to twenty confused kids.
