Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Isabella
7 YEARS AGO - ONE FAITHFUL DAY
For the longest time, I’ve wondered why my mother never nags me. I’m not complaining or anything, but it’s just weird for her to be always smiling and seeing me in a good light when, in fact, I’m behind shadows. The longer we go, the stranger it gets. I constantly feel like I’m tiptoeing around her, wishing she would notice and show genuine concern about my actions, whereabouts, and motivations.
My childhood has always been the two of us. Her and me. Me and her. But somehow, we’re not as close as one would think. It’s my fault, to be honest. Being a teenager who has never gotten to know their father or any male figure, really, I tend to hold her to a certain standard. One in which she’s at fault. I love her, and there’s no doubt about that, but sometimes I just wish her to be my mother. A responsible, semi-strict, and loving mother. She only checks two of those boxes, and it’s great, but I just need her not to be on the same eggshells as me and around me.
She’s been trying to be a friend, someone I could confide in, but it’s not working. If anything, it’s doing the opposite. I shun she has to fight to have a relationship with me, but I get it. I’m not the easiest person to get close to since I’m a shut-off, as those around mesay, but I would like for her to be herself with me.
Felice Kirby, the one who won the town pageant, then used her prize money to help fund the vet clinic. The Felice Kirby everyone loves and adores around here because she’s warm-hearted and loves love . I only get a pinch of those versions of her. And even those versions are only pages in a story for me.
Today is one of those days where I need a mother, not a friend.
“How are things going with your boyfriend?” my mother asks, prepping her coffee maker for the morning.
I walk towards her, my eyes barely open as it’s super early and depressing. I’m not a morning person, but sometimes, my body deceives me and wakes up by itself, leaving me no choice but to be that person.
“His name is Travis, Mom,” I say. My voice is husky and slow. That’s what six a.m. does to a person.
“Yes, Travis. How are you two doing?” The coffeemaker makes a weird sound as she speaks, and she hits it back to its senses.
“Actually…” I stand next to her, and she still battles with the coffeemaker.
“Hmm,” she hums. Her dark liquid finally sets in her cup as it rushes down.
“Nothing. We’re fine.” I open the top cabinet in search of a mug. “Fine,” I murmur.
“You’ve met his family, right? So, why don’t you officially invite him home for dinner?” She shifts to another subject.
“He’s been here a hundred times, Mom.”
“Yes! And every time you two run off to your room, I never see him again until he comes back down to leave,” she argues.
“Mom.”
“Tonight. I mean it.”
“But—”
“What’s so wrong about me meeting him as your mother? He’s your boyfriend, Isabella.”
That’s the issue. “Exactly, he’s my boyfriend. And you’re going to humiliate me in front of him.” I let it out. I didn’t want to, but she forced it out of me.
“How? I’m only going to check him out, say a few things to him, warn him a bit, and give him back to you. And besides, I already know him.”
“Indeed, Mom. You already know him. So, there’s no need for you to meet him officially if you already see him around.” I place the mug next to hers, demanding a wake-up buzz.
She turns to me, one hand on her waist and the other holding dear to the glass enveloping my coffee. “I’m meeting the boy, Isabella. That’s final.”
I sigh, hypnotized by the liquid in her hand. I just need my coffee, dammit. “Fine, whatever,” I say.
A thin smile lines up on her face, and she finally pours the coffee into my mug. She’s won, and she likes it.
It’s not that I don’t want Travis to meet her. I just don’t want him in the same vicinity as her for long. If that were to happen, the cool and casual thing I have going on with him will take a turn, and I don’t want that.
She’s the type of person to be saying things like, ‘So, when’s the wedding?’, ‘where do you see yourself in ten years with my daughter?’ , and more bullshit. These questions are not for nineteen-year-old couples, but my mother doesn’t have that mindset. She likes to rush things, plan, and basically force things to happen. So, of course, I wouldn’t want Travis near her. But my coffee is more important than my dignity right now.
“Great. What are your plans for today?” she asks, and I gulp the living hell of my dark and strong caffeine.
“The usual.”
The usual equals nothing. I do nothing around here. Between being rejected from six Ivy League schools and not knowing what to do with myself, my routine has been simple. I wake up every day with a sense of failure, but then that feeling disappears as soon as I see my boyfriend and my friends. And then I come back home, back into that hole. It’s a fucked up routine, but I can’t escape from it. Not yet, at least.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you find a job? Or something else to do in your free time?”
I ignore her attempt to make me question my lifestyle and walk over to the couch in front of the television. It’s six. I’m buzzed, I feel nauseous, and now I have my mother discreetly implying things I already know. I’m screwed, it’s obvious. But she doesn’t have to bring it up every time.
“I’m hanging out with Colin and James today,” I answer, swinging my legs onto the center table. That’s a lie. I have no plans whatsoever today, but with this conversation being brought up again, I have to fake it.
Colin and James are supposedly attending a college event today, even though it’s Saturday. They’re reluctant to admit it’s a frat party besides the fact that I’m aware that’s all they’ve been using their stamina in. While they keep up their lie, Travis is staying at his dorm this weekend. My mother doesn’t know all of that, and I want to keep it that way.
“Same thing every day. Aren’t you tired?”
“Of seeing my friends? No. Of hearing this speech all over again? Yes.”
“I just think you’re wasting your potential, but hey, it’s your life. Do whatever you want to do to waste it. I have to rush to work. Call me if you need anything,” she says as she walks out of the living room. That’s a way to make me feel shitty.
My mom has been working alongside her childhood friend at the flower shop, Love’s Wish. They partnered up a few years ago, and since then, she’s been doing her six-thirty to five, every day.
“See you later!” she yells before disappearing behind the door.
I let out a strong exhale, relieved and tired from all of this. My life, this morning, my day that hasn’t even begun yet, and this burdensome loneliness. All of this doesn’t call for a great day.
I don’t know when exactly I passed out, but I wake up in front of the television, with a lively cartoon on display. The sound echoes in my ears as I’m barely conscious. Shit. How long have I been out for?
As I get up to sit, I hear my ringtone buzzing underneath the cushion. Travis. His caller ID obviously has more flare and love to it, but nothing extraordinary. Just a pink heart and an envelope next to his name. And even with its simplicity, I still find myself excited every time I see it.
“Hi, babe. Are you free by any chance?” he quickly asks before I can utter a word.
I look around the room and then down at myself. I’m still in my pjs at eleven in the morning, looking like shit. Yes, I’m free.
“Hi, do you need anything?” I say instead of a yes. I don’t want to sound too desperate to do something.
“Actually, yes. If it’s okay with you, please check up on my mom for me. I haven’t heard from her the entire day of yesterday, and knowing her, she would’ve called at least three times,” he says with a bit of fear lingering in his voice. “Is it okay with you?”
“Of course. I’ll pass by your house to see if everything is okay.” I rush upstairs, trying not to seem panicked.
I’ve been around his family enough for me to worry, but it doesn’t mean I have to show it. Not with him miles away behind a cell phone, where I can’t be there to reassure him. “She’s okay, Trav,” I try anyway, murmuring.
He softly grunts, and I feel his worry. I should get there quickly before he drives back here with dark thoughts. I don’t want him behind the wheel if he will be like that.
“I’ll call you as soon as I see her, okay?” I pick out a simple pair of jeans and a white top from the wardrobe and drop it on the bed, my phone pressed between my ear and shoulder.
“Thank you.” He’s barely audible.
“Of course.”
After dressing up in whatever I could find that was clean, I rushed out to his mother’s place. His house is not that near to my house, but with the level of emergency I had run, I arrived in about five minutes. I instantly regret wearing tight jeans as I douse in them. At least, my top is loose on me, otherwise I would be feeling super uncomfortable. I might as well be wearing latex.
At the door, a sudden stress envelopes me. “This is not the time, Isabella,” I whisper to myself, trying to catch my breath. I’ve never been alone with Mrs. McGreen. Ever. This is a different level of familiarity I didn’t think I’d ever get with Travis and his family, but here we are. To think that he trusts me enough to call and ask me to check on his mom is such a big deal, and I can’t chicken out just because I have some itsy bitsy anxiety. This is his mother, for goodness’ sake. I can put aside the undying approval I’ve desired from her since the day I walked into her dining room, ready to be part of her family, for now. I know it’s too early to even think of her that way, but I can’t help it. She’s his mother.
I knock. Once, twice, three times, and then the door opens. Wide as a bird’s feather and chilly as a glacial river. It’s her. She’s standing there, alive, glowing, dressed up, smiling, and in shape. In a millisecond, I absorb all I see, ready to report back to Travis. And even though what I see are all good things… in my head, I’m screaming , ‘What the fuck!’. Not because I had wished for worse, but because now I find myself in a position where I actually have to talk to her and not sound stupid. All thanks to my boyfriend.
“Mrs. McGreen,” I say with a thin smile on my face. My face is dripping sweat as my pants are suffocating me, and all I’m striving to think about is a way to get back at Travis once he’s back home.
“Isabella, what a surprise. You know Travis isn’t home, right?” she asks, widely opening the door for me to see the hallway line leading to the kitchen room. Her sanctuary.
With a puff of air coming from nowhere, I get to inhale a sugary scent from inside, and that only means one thing: she’s cooking. And not to mention, the noticeable apron enveloping her waist, confirming my assumption.
“I came for you, actually.” She tilts her head with her eyebrows lifted in confusion. “Ma’am,” I add. My fingers dance together as I fidget them behind my back. “Travis asked me to check up on you since he hasn’t been able to reach you since yesterday.”
She chuckles, relaxing on the door panel, her arms crossed. “This boy.”
I stand there, my ass crack wet and my knees wobbling, eager to leave. I came to find out if she was okay—she is, and that’s great, but I’d rather be elsewhere, now. And most of all, I have to call Travis to tell him not to worry.
“Well, tell him I’m perfectly fine, sweetie. I just wanted to give him a little space to focus on his studies, that’s all. Wow! I didn’t expect him to miss my calls already.” She giggles.
“He was quite worried, but I’m glad there’s nothing bad to report back to him.” A smile draws on my face as I reach for my phone. “I promised to tell him as soon as I get here.” I go to text him. Mrs. McGreen is still standing there, and though I can’t see her expression since my head is bent to the phone—a perfect escape—I can feel her eyes on me.
Me
She’s alive and never better.
I wait for his text back, and it doesn’t last long.
Travis
Thank you!! Love you.
I unconsciously smile at the screen, and I hear his mother’s soft and throaty laugh.
“Look at you. He’s not even here, and your cheeks are reddened,” she says, and I look up at her.
“He now knows you’re fine.” I try to loosen up my cheeks, but it’s no use. I’m thrilled to receive a text from him expressing his love for me. It never dials down. Every time those four-letter words come out of his mouth or come from him through a text or any other form, I realize how far we’ve come. There hasn’t been a day since our first kiss when I’ve ever doubted I loved him, and to have him say that to me almost every day is a blessing.
“Good.”
Crickets and silence. I feel like a statue as I stand there gripping onto my phone as she pierces through my skull.
“Do you want to come in?” she asks.
No. No. Never. Ever.
“Sure,” I say. Ugh!
This is the time I would love to vanish and have nobody see me again. Away from the one-on-one confrontation between me and my boyfriend’s mother while he’s out of town. And to top it all off, she looks so exquisite, almost like a celebrity. She’s one of those moms you do not want to glance at twice because they’ll make you regret ever attempting to, like a desperate housewife. Yes, that describes her pretty well. Sometimes, I forget Travis is from a well-off family and not from a loan-picking household like mine. Or like everyone else in Road Haven.
Her wavy blonde hair lines perfectly on her back, and her seven-ish-inch heels slide on the floor as if she’s on ice. Then there’s the watch on her wrist. That’s probably worth every allowance I’ve ever had since childhood. And then there’s me, in a sweaty pair of jeans and a free loose top, looking like I had just woken up. Which I have. I can’t help but analyze every strand of hair on her head or every fabric hemmed on her back. It’s unavoidable to do so when no one I know of looks like that.
I take a deep breath before walking behind her and closing the door. This feels like a trap somehow, but I follow along as we head to the living room. I can do this. It’s no big deal. I’m familiar with her and her way of expressing herself. I’ll be fine.