She made a sharp hissing noise, and he relented, angrily snagging both pairs of jeans off the floor. As he handed mine over, he looked at me with big, sorrowful eyes, but I couldn’t even hold his gaze. I just shoved my feet into my jeans and quickly pulled them up while he walked past me. I was breathing so hard, it felt like I might collapse.
Cherry walked to the kitchen. I followed, and when she got to the counter, she turned around. “What are you doing with my son?”
I shook my head. “We didn’t do anything,” I said, voice breaking.
“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. I asked you a question. What are you doing with my son?”
“Um...” I didn’t know what she wanted me to say.We’re solving a mystery together at workdidn’t seem like the right answer. Neither didI accidentally ate a bunch of weed candy last night and had a cataplexy episode, or the one I’m sure every mother loves to hear:I lost my virginity with your son, and now I might have feelings for him.
After a few awkward moments, she finally gave me a clue about what was going on in her mind, saying, “I know he told you about his self-harm incident.”
Is that what we were calling it? I nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“Then you can understand why he doesn’t need fair-weather girls in his life,” she said. “He needs stability. If you’re one of those girls who wants to have a wild weekend, find someone else. Because he’s a good kid, and he doesn’t need that right now.”
“What? I don’t even know what a wild weekend is,” I said, perplexed and defensive.
“I don’t know you, but I know my son. He’s emotional. He gets attached. I’m trying to keep him steady so that he doesn’t plummet into another depression. Do you really want to be responsible for that?”
How was I supposed to answer? I was confused and panicked, in a strange place with a strange woman. My eyes welled with tears.Don’t cry... Do. Not. Cry.
Daniel rushed into the kitchen. “What the hell? What did she say to you?” he asked me. When I shook my head, he said to his mother, “Seriously? What is wrong with you? You can’t keep pulling this shit. This isn’t normal!”
“Don’t tell me what’s normal. I’m your mother. I’m responsible for your well-being. You weren’t answering your phone.”
“So, you broke in here to check on me—”
“The back door was open.”
“—when I specifically asked you never to do that?”
“I willnottalk about this now.”
Not in front of me. That was the implication. I could take a hint; I strode away from the kitchen to gather up my things.
“Birdie,” Daniel pleaded.
“It’s fine,” I said, feeling as if my heart were being shot with a dozen arrows—prick, prick, prick. “Talk to your mom. I’m going home.”
“I’ll take you,” Daniel said.
I shook my head.Prick, prick, prick.
“Birdie—”
“I’m not a child. I can get home by myself.” I quickly swiped at my eyes and found my purse as he begged me to stay. I couldn’t. Everything inside me was screaming for me to run. Bolt. Flee the scene. I slipped into my shoes and bolted out the door, and when he tried to come after me, I stopped him and said, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry... for everything.”
I somehow made it out of the neighborhood, avoiding stares as I tripped my way down the sidewalk, blubbering like a small child. But I managed to pull myself together long enough to board a morning bus. And when I was headed out of West Seattle, crammed against commuters headed to their jobs downtown, stunned and dazed about what had just happened, trying not to cry again—Pull it together, Birdie!—I realized that what I’d said to Daniel was a lie: I wasn’t sorry in the least.
Sure, it was humiliating that I’d brought an entire box of condoms for Cherry to find, but I wasn’t sorry that Daniel and I had talked about sex. And yes, it was embarrassing that I’d nodded off so many times last night, but I was honestly glad he knew about my narcolepsy now; it was a relief. And spending the night with him on the couch? I didn’t regret that one single bit.
At least, not until Cherry walked in.
What are you doing with my son?
Good question. WhatwasI doing?
I guess I needed to figure that out. But right now it was all I could do to hold back tears and try to stop my chest from feeling as if it were caving in and collapsing around my wounded heart.
