My phone lights up with Mom just as I’m leaving my last class.
For once, I don’t hesitate, I feel like I need her right now. Like, Ineedmy mom.
I answer before it hits the second ring, voice light, hopeful. “Hey, stranger.”
“Oh, hey baby,” she says. “How’s my girl?”
It’s been a while since she’s sounded like this, warm, chatty, like she’s here. She’s trying. And before I can stop myself, my heart does a dumb, traitorous thing where itbelieves. I figure it can’t help to ask her some relationship advice, she’s never been good at keeping anybody close by, but I am so hesitant to go fully in with Troy I feel like I needsomeguidance. I need her to tell me it’s ok.
“I’m okay,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “Actually… I’ve been seeing someone. Kind of.”
There’s a pause.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. His name’s Troy. We’ve been working on this projecttogether and… I don’t know. He’s—” I trail off, feeling weirdly shy. “He’s kind. Funny. And he—he makes me feel good. I even went to Thanksgiving with him and met his family.”
I brace for teasing, or a squeal, or one of her old over-the-top pep talks about how I “deserve fireworks, baby!”
Instead, there’s another pause. Longer this time.
“That’s great, sweetie. Hey, listen… are you in a place where you can send me a little something?”
I stop walking.
A familiar hollow feeling drops into my chest.
“I wouldn’t ask,” she says quickly. “It’s just rent this month came out early and John’s been a total prick about the schedule again and?—”
I close my eyes. The weight hits instantly. Like a wet coat dropped over my shoulders.
“Mom, I already sent you five hundred three weeks ago.”
“I know,” she says. “And I’m so grateful, really. It just—everything got a little off-track. Just a hundred, maybe? I’ll pay you back on Friday.”
She won’t. She never does.
And the worst part? I’m not even mad. I’m disappointed.
“I’ve got to go,” I say. My voice is soft. Careful.
“Delilah—”
“Talk later.”
I hang up before I change my mind. Before I ask how she’s doing. Before I offer anything else. Because it’s not just the money. It’s what she didn’t say. She didn’t ask about me or about Troy.
Not about school.
Not about anything.
I walk the rest of the way to the library in a fog, throat tight, jaw locked. The hope I had—that dangerous little flicker—gone. I don’t know why I expected her to be anydifferent than I expected. It’s my fault really, I shouldn’t expect people to change.
And now those messages from Brianna seem to take on new significance. Maybe I was being naive. Maybe Troy is exactly what I initially thought—a guy who's used to girls falling for him, who keeps his options open because why wouldn't he? Why commit to one person when you can have attention from many?
Thinking about you...
I check the time.
