Chapter 2 #2
“I’m sure it’ll be a blast. The last one we had Deirdre spent thirty minutes bitching about how we never let her pick the movie during our monthly movie night. It was fucking awesome watching her desperately try to squeeze out some fake tears.”
“Just think about how much it means to your mom,” I tell her as I start walking backwards.
“That’s the only reason I put up with this.” She grins when she adds, “She’s lucky she’s such a great mom and I love her. She’s put up with enough shit from me, so it’s the least I can do.”
“What are you talking about? You and I were perfect growing up.”
Sav smiles big enough to show off the dimple in her right cheek. “Like the time we ordered fake tattoos and thought it’d be a great idea to put them on our faces?”
I hold up my hand. “I swear I didn’t know they’d last so long.”
We both laugh at the memory.
“I thought my mom was going to have a heart attack. I had to go to church with Big Tit Energy written across my cheek. She refused to let me stay home.” Sav points a manicured nail at me. “I may never forgive you for that one, especially since I was a late bloomer and flat as a board at the time.”
I grin and give her a wink. “Big tit energy has nothing to do with cup size.” I give her another smile and a wave before turning around to climb the steps to the foreign language building.
I’m still grinning at the memory of our not-so-rebellious days when I walk into my Russian class and take a seat in the middle.
The room fills up quickly, but I ignore everyone as I get my stuff together and prepare to take notes.
Aside from Sav, I mostly keep to myself.
My heavy course load doesn’t allow for much free time, and I’ve always been more of an introvert and on the shy side.
When Professor Borzov comes in, he scans the room, stopping on me for a few awkward seconds before looking at the others. I keep my focus on my books, not wanting to know if his beady little eyes are still looking at me, and when he starts the lecture, I let out a sigh of relief and get to work.
The rest of the day passes quickly enough as I hustle from class to class, and by the time I’m walking out of my organic chemistry lab, I’m exhausted and wishing I hadn’t been cheated out of two hours of sleep this morning.
I debate the fight it will cause if I bail out of supper tonight, but quickly decide the fallout won’t be worth it.
Knowing there’s no way around it, I decide to get it over and done with.
Stopping off at my dorm room, I toss my books onto my bed and run a quick brush through my unruly hair.
Not only is it red, but there’s also a shit ton of it.
Supposedly I get it from my dad, but he died when I was two so I don’t have any memories of him.
Billy, my stepdad, married my mom when I was six.
Things went straight to hell for me after that, and if it weren’t for meeting Savanna, I’m not sure what would’ve happened to me.
We were assigned to the same first grade class, and for some reason, she’d immediately taken a liking to me.
She’d declared us best friends on the spot, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
The only good memories I have of my childhood are because of her.
Refusing to get bogged down in all the negative, I toss the brush aside and grab my bag, making sure I have my inhaler before I leave.
Tonight’s going to be bad enough. I don’t need to add an emergency room trip to the mix.
Shoving the stick of pepper spray Sav insists I carry into my pocket, I leave the dorm building and make my way off campus.
It doesn’t take long to get to the subway, and once I’m on my way, I spend the ride making study cards for my organic chem class.
By the time my stop arrives, I have the vital information down.
I sometimes feel like my life is nothing but index cards in various colors, memorizing one fact after another until my head feels like it’s going to explode.
Stepping through the doors as soon as they open, I follow the crowd of people up the stairs, and once we’re on the sidewalk, I weave around an older couple and then a group of teenage boys.
The apartment that’s been my home since I was born is only a fifteen-minute walk from the subway stop, and even though I have no desire to get there any faster, I find myself picking up my pace.
The ground-floor apartment is within sight when I turn the corner, and the first thing I do is look around for my stepdad’s white truck.
I don’t see it in the driveway or along the street, and it’s impossible to miss with Billy’s Plumbing written along the door and the trailer of equipment that’s always attached to the back.
The coast is clear, though, so I cross the street and knock on the door.
I could use my key and walk in, but something stops me.
Now that I no longer live here, it doesn’t feel like I should, or maybe it’s just that I really don’t want to be here.
I hear the deadbolt turn right before my mom swings the door open.
“Why’d you knock?” are the first words out of her mouth.
“I forgot my keys,” I lie and then give her a quick hug.
My mom and I don’t look like mother and daughter at first glance. She’s taller, slimmer, with brunette hair and a mouth that’s perpetually set in a thin line. The only trait we share are our eyes. Vivid green and almond shaped, the one thing that made me doubt my suspicions that I’d been adopted.
“Come on in to the kitchen. Supper is almost done.” She turns her back and leads the way while I try not to cringe at the stink of secondhand smoke that permeates the house.
When we step into the kitchen, she grabs the cigarette that she’s left burning in an ashtray, takes one last long drag of it before making a show of putting it out.
“Sorry,” I say, even though it’s completely fucked up that I feel the need to apologize for having asthma, something I probably got from growing up in a house filled with two smokers who insisted on keeping it all inside, because god forbid they step out onto the back porch for five minutes.
Ignoring my anger, I set my bag down and say, “It smells really good, Mom.”
“It’s just roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and corn. Nothing special.”
“Chicken?” I ask, trying my best to keep my tone light.
My mom bends over to get the roasted chicken out, and my heart deflates when I see that it is most definitely not something that’s made from tofu. My stomach lets out a pathetic whimper of a growl while I resign myself to a meal of potatoes and corn.
“What’s wrong with chicken?” she asks, reaching for a knife and fork.
“I’m a vegetarian, Mom. Have been since I was sixteen. Remember?”
Her heavy sigh makes it clear she remembers and just doesn’t care. “I thought for sure you’d grow out of that.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll just have some mashed potatoes and corn.”
She looks over at me. “I put chicken broth in the potatoes.”
Goddammit.
“I’ll have corn,” I say, too pissed to look at her.
I should’ve stayed on campus. I could’ve gotten some takeout from my favorite Mexican place.
The thought of a plate full of black bean tacos nearly makes me cry.
I’d been too busy with classes and skipped lunch, and a huge plate of food was the only reason I’d talked my ass into coming here tonight.
Now I get to sit down and suck back a cob of corn while I inhale secondhand smoke and endure my mom’s cold stare. Wonderful.
“Stop being dramatic, Cindy,” she says, handing me a plate. “There’s a salad in the fridge you can have.” Unable to resist, she adds, “It’s always surprised me that you never seem to lose weight, even though you eat like a damn rabbit.”
I ignore the jab and get my cob of corn, grab the prepackaged salad and some French dressing before sitting down at the table.
When my mom’s filled her plate, she joins me and starts eating.
Nothing breaks the silence for several minutes but the sound of our chewing until she finally asks about my classes.
“They’re going well,” I tell her. “It’s hard, but I’m keeping up with everything.”
After taking a drink, she points her fork at me. “Good. Don’t let your grades slip. It’s costing us a fortune to send you there.”
“I told you I’d pay you back.”
The soft grunt makes it obvious she’s not holding her breath on that one.
“I will,” I insist. “Besides, I’m thinking about maybe becoming a vet tech instead of doing the whole vet-track thing.”
The loud clatter of my mom dropping her fork momentarily stuns me, but then she starts yelling, and I slowly start to feel the familiar sense of dread creep up my spine.
“Of course you’re quitting,” she says, and the spite in her voice surprises me, even though it really shouldn’t.
“Billy and I saved up for this because you wanted to follow your little friend to the best goddamn university in the city, and you promised us it was so you could make something of yourself.”
“Being a vet tech is nothing to be ashamed of,” I say, forcing the words from my parched throat. “I’ll have all my core classes done after this year, and then I can enroll in a two-year vet tech program.” When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “I think I’d be happier doing that.”
“Happy?” My mom spits the word out like the foreign concept it is to her.
“Life isn’t just about being happy, Cindy.
You think I liked having my husband die on me?
You think I liked struggling as a single mom?
You think I liked how hard I had to work to save up enough money to send you to this damn school? ”