Cassie rolled her neck and tried to think of the soothing tune of a meditation track from BodyBalance but came up empty. She’d bet the Dalai Lama would have trouble meditating his way out of this ugly environment. “I thought some fresh air would be nice. It’s stuffy in here.”
“The only stuffy thing in here is you.” Her mom gave Cassie a shove. “Go. Coffee.”
One look at the coffee pot had Cassie wishing she’d brought in her to-go mug from the car or grabbed something cold from the gas station. “Do you have bottled water?”
Her mom’s lip curled in disgust. “What do you think this is, the Bellagio? What’s wrong with coffee?” She picked up her glass and knocked the rest of the whiskey back. “Or did you want something stronger?”
Bile rose to the back of Cassie’s throat. How could her mom encourage her to drink and drive after what had happened to her brother? “Too early for me, thanks, Mom.” She opened the cupboard door to retrieve a couple of mugs and pressed her lips together when her fingers registered the thick greasy film on the metal handle.
“Barely been here a minute and already you’re handing out the judgments left and right,” her mom said. “Anything else you want to criticize about my house and the way I live, Ms. Perfect?”
Cassie closed her eyes and focused on the blackness of her eyelids. She followed a little starburst from top to bottom before opening her eyes again. “I’m not judging anything, Mom.” She wanted, of course, to question how her mom’s barbs were any different, but she didn’t. It wasn’t worth the argument. It had taken her a while to understand that, and it had been a tough lesson to learn as a child. One of many. Therapy had been essential in college to discover how dysfunctional her family situation really was.
She pulled two mugs down, thick with dust and grime. The thought of putting her lips to one made her nauseous.
“You got someone in the car with you?” her mom asked as she stomped into the kitchen, her sliders slapping loudly on the linoleum floor.
Cassie glanced over her shoulder. “Of course not.” She hadn’t brought anyone home when she was a kid. She’d been too ashamed and embarrassed. That hadn’t changed, so she wasn’t about to start now. Her mind drifted to Taryn and what she might think of this place, of her mom. Would it lessen her opinion of Cassie somehow? She hoped she wasn’t giving off too many happy vibes after all her time with Taryn. Even if Taryn wouldn’t judge Cassie because of her mom, she couldn’t imagine getting to a place where she’d want to introduce them to each other. It was getting harder to remember that Taryn wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture in her life; Taryn would be gone soon enough, and Cassie already knew her life would be poorer without her. So she definitely wasn’t about to waste any of the time shedidhave with Taryn by sharing her with her mom. “Why do you think I’ve got someone with me?”
Her mom gestured at the mugs on the counter. “Two. You’ve got to know I don’t want one.” She wrinkled her nose then busied herself refilling her glass. “Although I don’t know why I expect you to remember anything about what I like given how little you visit me nowadays. Too busy with your fancy hospital friends to worry about your old mom.” She swept her gaze over Cassie once again. “I don’t know what you do with your time, because you clearly don’t spend it looking after yourself.” She tugged at Cassie’s T-shirt. “This is too big for you. Or are you hiding something? Are you pregnant or are you getting fat?” Her mom pulled the material tight over Cassie’s body then let out a dramatic puff. “No. That’s good, I suppose. You’ve still got one thing going for you. Though it’s probably about time you made me a grandma. Your clock’s running, girl. Don’t be one of those stupid women who think they can have a baby in their forties. Who wants a doddering old bat at their parent-teacher nights? You were lucky. I always looked amazing when I went anywhere for your school events.” Her mom stood a little straighter and fluffed up her hair. “All your male teachers couldn’t take their eyes from me and the girls.” She pushed up her breasts and smiled.
Her mom’s stained teeth were evidence she’d let her standards slip, but honestly, Cassie couldn’t remember her mom coming to anything school or college-related. As with so many things, her mom had simply invented a new history to suit her internal view of herself. And there was so much in her mom’s monologue to unpack, Cassie felt overwhelm already creeping up her ankles, threatening to take hold. “I’m probably not going to have children, Mom, so you don’t have to worry about that.” The thought of subjecting a child to her mom would be enough of a contraceptive for anyone.
“Why? I’d be a wonderful grandmother. Look at how you turned out: a doctor, no less.” She thumbed toward the street. “Everyone else around here, their kids are working at the Dollar General or Walmart, stocking shelves and schlepping around the warehouse working nights. Not my baby. I taught you to want more from your life.Ipushed you to college and that scholarship. You would’ve been flipping burgers at McDonald’s if it hadn’t been for me.”
Cassie stretched out her fingers and stared at her nails, which reminded her that she and Rachel were due a visit to the salon. She needed to focus on anything other than the absolute nonsense coming out of her mom’s mouth. The only thing her mom had pushed her toward was the makeup and condom aisles. She’d never shown any interest in Cassie’s academic pursuits, and it had been a kindhearted high school teacher who had guided Cassie through the scholarship application process. Oh, how Cassie had fantasized that Ms. Greggs would intervene and adopt her. How many times had she dropped to her knees and prayed that Ms. Greggs would take Cassie away from her mom to live with her? She’d even sketched out the house they lived in, decorated her bedroom, and imagined their conversations in the car on the way to school every day.
“And this is the thanks I get.” Her mom threw up her hands. “All that money you’ve wasted ontherapycould’ve bought me a nice house in a nice neighborhood. But instead, I have to live out my days, scraping by on social security and the bits of money you send when you’re in a good mood. And I can’t rely on that because you always seem to be angry at me for one reason or another that I can never understand.”
Cassie shuffled the mugs on the countertop and fought to remain calm. The therapy she’d had meant she was just about able to maintain a relationship with her mom, which she made increasingly difficult. The hours of counseling also meant Cassie could remain in control of her emotions and triggers and not let her mom draw her into something toxic. “Speaking of which, where’s your new car?”
Her mom tutted loudly. “That took longer than I expected. For you to throw that in my face. But I guess you haven’t even sat down yet.”
Cassie shook her head. “I’m not throwing anything in your face, Mom. I just wanted to have a look at it and make sure you’re happy with it.”
“Huh, because you’re a car mechanic too now, are you? If you were that concerned with my happiness, you’d buy me a new car with one of those ten-year warranties. If you cared enough about my safety when I’m driving alone on long, deserted roads, you wouldn’t settle for a junker that could break down in the middle of the night and leave me vulnerable to attack by an axe murderer.”
Why her mom was driving around in the middle of the night on those kinds of roads was an issue, but it wasn’t one Cassie could confront, or she’d be accused of mothering her mother and thinking her too old to still enjoy herself. She did think that an axe murderer wouldn’t stand a chance when faced with her mom’s rage. “I didn’t know you needed a new car, Mom.”
“How could you know I need anything? You’re never around.” She glared at Cassie for a long moment. “Fred’s taken it. He needed it for work.”
“Who’s Fred?” she asked before she could stop herself. Conversations with her mom were too exhausting. It was like a chess match where she had to think four or five questions ahead and know how her mom would react to them. Cassie dropped her shoulders and relaxed slightly when her mom’s expression brightened a little.
“My new man,” her mom said. “And what a man he is. Let me show you a photograph. I’ll get my phone.”
Her mom tottered off, giving Cassie the opportunity to give one of the mugs a quick wash. She also managed to empty the coffee pot and wash it and the filter before her mom returned.
“Isn’t he handsome?”
Her mom thrust her phone close to Cassie’s face, and she noted it was a brand new model that would be costing her a hell of a lot of money each month. Cassie moved back slightly and focused on the screen. She schooled her expression. Yes, Cassie was gay, but she could appreciate and recognize a good-looking man when she saw one. But the craggy-faced specimen captured in millions of pixels in front of her was not what she would call handsome. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, of course, but this guy’s face was all kinds of wrong, probably from in-breeding. And even in a two-dimensional image, there was a hard and hostile expression in his eyes. Cassie imagined he and her mother would clash and have epic, destroy-it-all arguments. She couldn’t help her errant mind wondering what it might be like to see a picture of her own father. Did she have his eyes? His smile? Her mother had destroyed all photographic evidence of him, and Cassie had been too young when he last held her in his arms to remember any of his features. She saw him in dreams sometimes, but they were soft, and there was no definition to his face. Why couldn’t she remember him?
“Cassandra.” Her mom gave Cassie’s shoulder a rough shove. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Is that why you’re speechless? I bet you want him for yourself, don’t you?”
Cassie smiled widely at the preposterous notion. Her mirth slipped at yet another refusal from her mom to accept Cassie’s sexuality.Even if I was straight, I wouldn’t touch him if the fate of the planet depended on it.“What does he do for a living?”
Her mom’s expression hardened again, and she dropped her arm. “What does it matter what he does for a living? Why is that your first question? Why can’t you just be happy thatI’mhappy?” She took a long swig of her drink and wiped an escaping droplet from the side of her mouth. “I haven’t been happy since your father left.”
Cassie turned away and began to scoop some cheap, no-name coffee into the filter paper, wishing she could remember if she’d been happy in the first seven years of her life before he’d left. Had they been content? Her mom said they’d always been dirt-poor, but Cassie couldn’t know that with any certainty. But even if they had, they could’ve been rich in other ways. Love didn’t cost anything. Had her father held her in his arms when she’d just been born and felt a love so intense and overwhelming, it had brought him to tears?
