No Matter What You Do

13. I’m Sorry, What?

Brandy forces me to go to the mall to update my wardrobe. Ever since my staged kiss with Cameron she calls me a “changed woman.” She pulls me into a store that smells like five different perfumes all mixed together. It is very confusing, and I think my nose is having a seizure.

“All right, we’re gonna get you some new jeans, a halter or two, some crop tops, and some cute hoodies. The store is safe, so anything you want, consider it my gift to you.”

She lets me browse the store. Most of what I see are crop tops too small to legally be considered a shirt, halter tops exposing most of the back, bralettes—all the things I swore I’d never wear. I want to march up to Brandy and demand we go somewhere else, but she’s so excited I can’t do that to her.

I wander around for ten minutes and grab the least revealing pieces of clothing I can find and meet Brandy by the changing rooms.

“That’s quite a pile,” Brandy says, going through the clothes in my arms. “Yay!”

First, I try on a gold halter top with a pair of skinny jeans. Never have I ever worn something that actually looks this good. Next, I try on a crisscross cutout long sleeve crop top and a pair of army pants. Another pair that surprises me. I pull my hair from my ponytail and play with it a bit.

“Show me something,” Brandy’s voice calls from outside the door. I whip it open and let her see me. She covers her hands over her mouth and then signals for me to turn around. “You are stunning in that!”

I take another glance in the mirror. “I guess I am.”

“You know who else would agree with me?”

I have an idea.

“Cameron,” she says simply.

I force a laugh, but it comes out like a cough. “It’s not me.”

“But you picked these,” Brandy says.

I slam the door of my changing room and admire myself in the mirror before trying on my next outfit.

I pull on the halter party dress I picked, secure it, and evaluate how I look in it. The black top half and pink bottom go so well together. I find myself staring at it on me. Sure, it exposes some of my back, but it also covers my chest and goes an inch or two past my knees, which is a plus. Dammit. I hoped these things wouldn’t look so good on me, but Brandy buys me both outfits and the dress, and I let her.

“Yay!” Brandy links her arm through mine once we head out of the store. “I’m so excited for you to wear these.”

“Brandy, seriously I’ll pay you back, I prom?—”

“No need. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

Just then, my phone buzzes with a text from my mother.

Mom

Hey, honey. I’m off tomorrow. Are you free to get together? I want to know how college is treating you. And I need to talk to you about something.

I send back a boring, uninterested response.

Me

Yes. And, OK

I haven’t seen my mom since before move-in day. She and my dad couldn’t take the time off to settle me in, which is why David helped me. It’s not so bad. My school is in Pasadena, which is only forty-five minutes from my house, so I can see them anytime. It’s just that Brandy has distracted me with all her party nonsense that I haven’t reached out to them yet.

Me

Is Dad coming?

The text I get back is rather disappointing.

Mom

No.

My dad”s got a big company job and travels a lot. I couldn’t tell you what he does or where he does it because when he talks about work my ears somehow stop working. I also never understood the world of business. I barely got to see him during my high school years. Now, I’m in college, which means I’ll lose even more moments with him.

The next day, I make sure to wake up in the morning so I have enough time to get ready for when my mom comes to pick me up. I just throw on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt. I slide on a pair of Converse shoes and sneak out so as to not wake up Brandy.

When I approach my mom’s Toyota, I’m greeted with a smile. “Hello, stranger,” she says. I hop in the car, however, lacking my mom’s momentary enthusiasm. “You look cozy,” she comments. I ignore it.

She starts up the car. “Speaking of clothes, I saw your Instagram. You went to the mall yesterday and got some clothes?” There’s a touch of disapproval in her voice, and I get ready to defend myself.

“Brandy wanted to go, so I went, and she suggested I indulge in a few new things.”

“Right, so this Brandy wants to completely change your appearance? And dress you like a slut?”

The day is already off to a great start. I ignore her disgusting comment and turn to face the window. I should’ve mentioned the kind of person my mother is. I wear the stupid clothes I do because that’s all I was given, and I became comfortable in them. My mother would never willingly buy me a shirt that shows my stomach nor my breasts. Basically, anything that Brandy has, I could never wear in front of my lovely, conservative mother.

“I mean you looked beautiful, but that’s not you. So please don’t let her change who you are.”

I start to recognize the real reason I didn’t text or call my mom until she reached out yesterday.

We pull into a diner parking lot after a long time without speaking.

“Promise me one thing,” she says. “Don’t become the stereotypical college girl, okay? Focus on schoolwork. Friends come second and fun is last, got it?”

I look at her for the first time in about twenty minutes. “Isn’t the point of college to meet the friends you’ll have for the rest of your life?” I argue.

“The purpose is to study hard, get a degree, and then find a fulfilling career. Friends are helpful to survive the first few weeks but not essential to a happy life, Lainey.”

Bullshit.

“Same goes for high school, right? Study hard, earn a diploma, and get accepted into a good college, a friendless loser.”

“Yes,” she says simply, ignoring the last part.

I shouldn’t even try to argue with her about this. The day will quickly turn into a disaster. One person can only bite their tongue for so long until it draws blood though.

During breakfast, I do my best to stay off the topic of school. That gets pretty hard when that’s all your mom wants to talk about. I steer clear of the list Brandy and I created of our party plans for obvious reasons. “I’ve been writing some papers and made a few friends.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yup. All work, no play going on here.”

My mom laughs. “Great. I don’t need to worry about you, then. Your brother is another story though.”

“Yeah, why isn’t he here?” I ask. Sometimes I honestly forget I have a brother because of how he never wants to be seen with me. I mean, the feeling is mutual but still.

“He said he had an important meeting for football or something,” she responds.

“He has never mentioned football to me ever,” I tell her. That loser does not play football. He couldn’t. To be fair though, for as much as we communicate, he could be the CEO of Kellogg’s, and I’d be totally ignorant to it. The first time I saw my brother since move-in day was at Tamara’s party. We pretty much live our lives very separate from each other.

I let my mom drive me to a couple of stores after breakfast, but I start to get antsy after a text from Brandy.

Brandy

Guess who woke my ass up?

Me

Who?

Brandy

Mikey with our cards.

Me

Really??

Me

How are they?

Brandy

Pretty decent. You’re Katie Staple, and you’re 22 years old. I’m Debbie Fischer, and I’m 24.

Me

LOL, you’re old.

Brandy

Yeah…The pic he used for me sucks too. Ofc he uses the worst pic of the whole photo shoot.

Me

The fact that you call Mikey in his dorm w/an iPhone a photo shoot…

Brandy

Cannot believe he charged you after all. That ho. But, you look gr8 in yours. When you coming back?

“Lainey, are you paying attention?” my mother says.

I look up from my phone. My mom puts back the steel pot she’s looking at and takes a deep breath. “All right. I put it off, and it’s the real reason I wanted to see you in person.” I slide my phone into my pants pocket and wait for her to drop a bomb. “There’s a reason your father isn’t here today.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously.

“I love your father, and he is working right now, but he’s been working more and more these past few weeks.”

My stomach falls. I have an idea of where this conversation is headed, and I don’t wanna hear it. So I cover my ears like a toddler.

My mother pulls my hands away from my ears. “Don’t be a child, Lainey. I think it’s best if your father and I separate. Or have a serious discussion about it. I just don’t want you to be surprised.”

I shake my head aggressively. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” she says. “It’s not final of course, but barely seeing my own husband, it’s not working out and putting a strain on our relationship.”

“Does Dad know of your plans? Doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?”

She looks to the floor and ignores my first question. “It’s not just about that, honey.”

It takes me a second to understand, and when I do it gives me the chills. “So, what? You’re dumping Dad because he’s too busy to stick it in you daily?”

My mother’s eyes bulge. Zero to one hundred in two seconds. “You are in no position to take that tone with me! I’m telling you because I need to talk to someone about it.” Her volume increases. We’re making a scene.

“He’s my dad. You’re supposed to be with him even if he’s home late. Just because he can’t give you what you want every night is no reason to kick him to the curb.”

“That is not what I am doing! I am not kicking him anywhere.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek. How could she do this? They love each other. They don’t argue, and they’re always happy when they’re together. I want to curse her out. Scream at her. Defend my father because he can’t help it that he has to work as much as he does. A good spouse stays. To good couples, those “till death do us part” vows mean something.

Instead of screaming at her in the middle of this old lady department store, I storm off, stomping as loud as I can and ignoring the strange looks from the people I pass.

My mom comes after me calling my name, but I keep going until I reach the car. I pull on the car handle even though I know it’s locked.

“Stop that!” my mother says when she finally catches up to me. “You know nothing about my relationship with your father! He’s gone all day, and at night he wants food and a warm bed. I understand that, but there’s a point where a marriage is no longer sustainable!”

“Well, you’re not even considering anything else! What about your stupid children!” I spit back.

My mom groans in frustration. “Shut up, Lainey.”

I smack the car hard with my hand. Yes, it hurts. “Take me back to school!”

When my mother finally unlocks the door, I hop in the car and slam it as hard as I can. Screw her. Did she actually think I would take that news well? How in the world is this a good time and venue to tell me this?

I don’t know what I expected today, but it wasn’t this. And honestly, I seriously question her sanity. What human person would tell their child this? Now? What the hell, Mom?!