17. 17
17
T ime flies and not much changes. The weather is dreary, my job is slow, and my daughter is perfect as always. I avoid Caleb, and I try to spare my parents of my presence as much as possible. I couldn’t do it entirely because of her. Still.
Despite taking her up on her offer, and spending a lot of my free evenings at her place, she continues with her wicked ways. I’ve actually noticed somewhat of a pattern, that unfortunately does not align with the days my daughter is home. It’s always the worst after she comes back after being gone for a night. It drives me crazy wondering where she goes that causes her to feel so angsty when she gets back.
I can’t exactly ask. We don’t really talk much when we’re together, although I’ve tried. I’ve attempted to get to know her better, but she’s given me a whole lot of nothing, so here we are.
I let myself enjoy having the release without overthinking it. She happens to be very good at reciprocating, not that she’ll ever hear those words from my mouth, she doesn’t deserve the ego boost. I’m fine keeping that opinion to myself.
Completely to myself. The girls don’t know any of what’s transpired since the baby shower, and I want to keep it that way for the time being. If they outright ask, that’s one thing, but I think we’ve all been too busy for chit chat lately. Vic sends me funny videos or recipes she wants me to try, like these cranberry lemon cinnamon rolls she sent the other day. I’ve been drooling since.
Autumn has sent me one single photo of Elaine and Freddy curled up in a dog bed together.
That’s about how things usually are between us. Not in a negative way, it’s just the reality of being grown adults with our own families. We’ve been lucky these days, finding excuses often, but I knew a drought was coming. It just makes us that much more excited for the next time we have plans together, which I imagine will be the day Angeline arrives. Her due date is coming up, and I wait for the phone call every day.
“What are you drinking?”
“The blood of my enemies,” I reply as I pass by my neighbor on my way out.
Surely she can tell I’m in a hurry, considering my hands that are overflowing with all the things I’ll need for my long work shift today. I’m bringing a packed lunch, along with an extra sweater and a box of tampons.
The last one might look questionable, but it’s easier if I just leave the whole thing in the bathroom at work. I’m not embarrassed for anyone to see me carrying it around either, it’s just part of life.
They’re all things I don’t usually bring with me, so I’m feeling pretty weighed down. That, and I’m having an unusually heavy flow and some awfully sharp cramps this morning.
I look down at the cup, wishing I had added enough strawberry syrup to give it more of a red color.
“That’s hot,” she says.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugs.
“What are you doing later?”
“Aw, do you want to hang out?”
Her expression fills with blatant disgust.
“Forget I asked.”
“Okay,” I reply cheerily.
I’m cranky and needed an out to walk away anyway.
I’m not cranky enough that I miss the chance to check her out as I go. She’s in a similar outfit to what I usually see her wearing this early in the day. A matching, slate gray workout set with skintight leggings and a cropped long sleeve top. She must be getting back from the gym, but I’ve never asked. I’m not sure she’d be willing to answer that anymore than anything else I’ve asked her.
The curves that it accentuates distract me long enough that I don’t get a chance to stop her when she snatches my cup out of my hands and takes a sip through my neon pink straw.
No one comes in between me and my caffeine before work.
I’m practically snarling, but my full hands keep me from snatching it back. She goes in for another sip.
“Did you make this?” she asks. I nod. “What is it? It’s delicious.”
I’m not too angry to notice that she doesn’t usually like to talk to me this much.
“Strawberry black tea.”
She goes in for a third sip, and I grind my teeth.
“I’ve been ordering the wrong drinks my entire life.”
“Well then go do that,” I snap. “This one is mine.”
She laughs at me, but hands it back.
“That’s not very sunshine of you,” she says, blatantly eyeing the box of tampons in my hand.
If I had the free finger, I’d flip her off. —
“Mom!”
“Oh!” She jumps up, dropping the hand lotion she’d taken from my bag. The thing is sitting open in front of her, and there are other items of mine scattered on the counter around it. “Goodness, you scared me!”
“Why are you digging through my stuff again? We talked about this,” I groan.
She holds up the lotion again, and waves it in front of me.
“The scents in this stuff are not good for your skin,” she chides. “And you don’t have any sort of protection in here, where’s that pepper spray we got for you?”
I adore my mother. I know that everything she does is with love and concern. I’m so lucky that both of my parents have always taken such good care of me, even as an adult. They both give so much, and they both accept me for every little piece of who I am. I could have it so, so much worse.
But my mom and I have always struggled with boundaries. She’s the nosiest person I know.
I remember a lot of arguments from when I was a teenager. Getting my first phone was not easy, when I couldn’t set it down anywhere without her picking it up to look through it. I’m well aware she wanted to check that I was being safe, but it was so hard on me at the time.
It’s still hard sometimes even now, but we’ve made some slow progress. As far as I know, she hasn’t snooped on me in a while. I’m sure the urge was building up for some time, and this was bound to happen again sooner or later.
“This is one of those things we talked about. I’m not okay with you digging through my things.”
“I’m only making sure–”
“I know, I know,” I interrupt. “Just ask me next time.”
It’s wishful thinking.
“Fine, fine. But you need to carry that spray with you!”
“I’ll grab it when I get home, okay?”
I’m fibbing. I let Autumn borrow it a couple years ago, and I think she lost it in her move.
I throw everything back into my bag, and pull it onto my shoulder.
It was so much for my neighbor’s good mood yesterday, because we had another unpleasant night with lots of crying. Dahlia officially doesn’t like the lady with the music , and my heart hurts as I wish I could permanently protect her from that lady . I tell my mom we’ll probably be back later, and I take my daughter to school.
My plans for the day consist of going to work, and trying not to snap at anyone.
It’s going to be quite the challenge when I get an unsurprising, but infuriating text message on my way there.
Destiny: Not going to make it in today.
I don’t even bother to respond. I can't keep covering for this girl.