Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
True to her word, I meet up with my mom again the following day. We grab coffee at a cafe and then walk through the main stretch of town, popping into some of the shops as we go.
My heart gives a painful squeeze as we pass the ice cream shop, and then another when we arrive at the bookstore, memories of Wes overtaking me before I can stop them. Following my mom inside, I wander the romance section, doing my best to distract myself from the past by perusing the new arrivals.
“Find one you like?” Mom asks after a while, nodding toward the book in my hand.
I place it back on the shelf with a shrug and turn to face her, trying not to let my surprise show. “Um. Not really.”
“Which one?”
“Mom—”
“Ivy, let me buy you something,” she insists.
“Mom, really. It’s fine.”
“Ivy. Grab the book. I’m buying it for you.”
I hesitate for another second before reclaiming the book from the shelf. I don’t have the energy to keep arguing with her, so if she wants to buy it for me, I’ll let her.
As we check out, I notice the girl behind the register eyeing me conspicuously. I try to ignore it, praying she won’t make some uncomfortable comment in front of my mother, but it’s hard. Being infamous on campus is not for the weak, and lately that’s all I am.
We end up at the sandwich shop down the street, and my shoulders tense up when I spot two familiar figures stepping through the door.
Quinn’s eyes meet mine across the room, and she nudges Remy in the side.
With the way I’ve been treating her lately—ignoring her texts, her calls, her knocks at my bedroom door—I fully expect her to turn around and leave or ignore me completely.
“Do you see someone you know?” Mom asks, turning in her chair to follow my line of sight.
“Yeah,” I say, surprised when Quinn whispers something to Remy before leaving him in the line. She winds through tables, beelining straight to ours.
Quinn juts out her hand in front of my mom. “Hi,” she says with a smile. “You must be Mrs. Combs. I’m Quinn, Ivy’s roommate and friend.”
Friend. I don’t think Quinn would say it if it wasn’t still true, and I wonder how much longer things can go on this way before I lose the privilege. I definitely haven’t been acting like a friend.
If my mom’s caught off guard by Quinn’s assertiveness, she doesn’t show it. “It’s nice to finally meet one of Ivy’s friends,” she says, shaking Quinn’s hand.
“It’s nice to finally meet some of Ivy’s family.” Knowing Quinn, she doesn’t mean it as a dig, but my mom’s mouth adopts a sour lilt, and I suspect she must be feeling a little bit guilty that none of them ever make the effort to come see me. “How long are you visiting for?”
“I leave tomorrow morning.”
Quinn nods, and then her gaze swings my way. “Hi.”
I swallow. Shift in my seat, feeling awkward. “Um, hey.”
“It’s good to see you out,” she says, her eyes darting to my mom like she’s unsure of how much she can say.
I nod. “Thanks. It’s good to be out.”
“Angela!” calls the guy working behind the counter, signaling that our order is ready. My mom excuses herself to retrieve our food, leaving Quinn and I alone.
Quinn nods toward Remy. “Well, I should—”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, now that my mom’s no longer within hearing distance. “I’ve—I’ve been awful to you. I’ve been ignoring you. That’s why my mom’s here. I was ignoring her, too.”
Quinn tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, considering my apology before offering a small nod of understanding. “I’m not a super touchy-feely person,” she says, “but it kind of hurt when you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.”
My shoulders slump. I feel like the worst friend in the world. “I’m sorry.”
“I was mostly worried for you, Ivy. I didn’t know what to do.
How to help.” I press my lips together, saying nothing.
There’s no way to justify my behavior. I don’t deserve to justify it.
“Look,” she glances toward her boyfriend, “Remy’s almost at the counter, so I need to get back, but when you feel like hanging out again, let me know, okay? ”
I hardly allow myself to believe that her words are genuine, but I nod anyway. “Okay. I will.”
“Oh, and Wes was seriously worried about you too, just so you know,” she says, and the mention of Wes has my stomach twisting painfully. Before I can formulate a response, my mom returns with our food. “Well, I should get back in line.” She smiles at my mom. “It was great meeting you, Mrs. Combs.”
“You too, Quinn.” As soon as Quinn is out of earshot, my mom leans forward. “She seems sweet. It’s a shame she has all those tattoos.”
I don’t comment. Just stare down at my sandwich, my appetite gone. I feel awful for ignoring Quinn—for pushing away her attempts to help me—but I just didn’t have energy to give to our friendship.
Cut yourself some slack. You’re trying to heal.
I am, and maybe eventually I’ll have what it takes to mend things. I just hope she’s still open to it when that happens. I wouldn’t blame her for giving up, though. I wouldn’t blame her at all.
At my mom’s urging, I manage to eat half of my sandwich. I’m exhausted as soon as we’re done, from the food and the socialization and the overstimulation of being in a public setting.
“You look tired,” Mom says, noticing me stifle a yawn. “Why don’t you nap in my hotel room?”
I don’t have the energy to do anything but nod.
The second my head hits the plush, hotel pillow, I’m dead to the world. I sleep for a while. I don’t dream. But when my eyes blink open, there’s no more sunlight shining through the sheer curtains. It’s dark outside the window, and I realize I must have been out for hours.
Rubbing at my eyes, I roll over with a groan, only to find my mom perched in the armchair in the corner, scrolling through her phone. She looks up when she feels my stare. “You’re awake.”
I yawn and push up to a seated position, my back against the headboard. “How long did I sleep for?”
“Four hours.”
My eyes widen. “Crap, I’m s-sorry,” I stutter out, worried she’s angry. Worried she’s going to admonish me for wasting my life on an unnecessary nap in the middle of the day. “You could have woken me up.”
“It’s fine, Ivy.”
“Didn’t you want to go somewhere for dinner? I can wash up really quick. What time is it?” She gives me a long look and doesn’t respond. Panic fists my chest. “Mom?”
“Why don’t we order room service?”
I blink at her, unsure if I heard that question correctly. “Room service?”
“Yes. I think you should rest more.”
I stare at her, perplexed. We’re not a hotel family, and we’re definitely not a hotel room service family.
“Are you sure?” She just nods, still studying me.
“Okay,” I say slowly, waiting for her to come to her senses and change her mind.
Instead, she passes me her phone, which has the hotel restaurant menu pulled up.
I’m not very hungry, but I know I should eat, so I scroll through the entrées and try to find something appealing.
“Who’s Wes?” Mom asks suddenly.
My eyes snap up, my grip tightening on her phone. “What?”
“At the restaurant, Quinn mentioned a boy named Wes.”
“Oh,” I mumble and look back down at the screen. I pretend to keep scrolling through the menu like the simple mention of his name isn’t a fucking knife to the chest. “He’s just a guy.”
“A boyfriend?”
My shoulders tense up, and I think back to the night of my dad’s birthday party, where she scolded me for talking to our neighbor in the kitchen. No way am I walking into that trap. Not now. Not again. “He’s no one.”
“You can tell me,” she presses.
I shake my head because I can’t. “Mom, I said he’s no one.”
“Ivy, you can tell me. Just talk to me—”
“I can’t, Mom!” I blurt, something inside me snapping.
The dam breaks. The floodgates open. The apathy I’ve been drowning in for the past few weeks evaporates, and the anger I feel toward my mom crashes down over me.
All the words I’ve been holding back rush out of my mouth—everything I’ve needed to say but haven’t had the courage to.
“I can’t talk to you! Not about anything real.
And honestly, I can’t figure out what you want from this.
Why you’re even here, pretending like we have a good relationship when Noah literally had to convince you to come see me. ”
“Ivy, that’s not—”
“You’ve blamed me for Noah’s behavior at college for so long that I was convinced I was a bad person.
And then I talked to Noah about it, and he said he didn’t even care that you guys didn’t make it to that game.
His freak out had nothing to do with any of that!
But you put that on me for so long and treated me so differently after the hospital that now, when you come to my school and try to be all nice and have some kind of weird open communication, I can’t do it.
Because I genuinely do not understand why you want that now after all this time.
“And yes. Wes was a boy who was maybe something like a boyfriend, and he told his parents all about me. I even met them in person when they came to visit him. And you know why I never mentioned him to you? Because I was afraid. Because every time I try to talk to you, you either judge me or compare me to Noah. It’s like you think I’m incapable of making rational decisions. ”
“Ivy—”
“The truth is, Mom, that I needed you. Something happened to me, and I needed you, and when I tried to talk to you about it, you heard one mention of the word ‘party’ and shut me down. So if you’re wondering why we have the sort of relationship where we don’t talk, and I don’t tell you about a guy, and I can’t tell you that I’ve been depressed for months—no, years—that’s why. ”
“Ivy...”
I ignore her, tossing her phone on top of the sheet as I scramble out of the bed. “I appreciate you coming out here to see me, I do, but I’m just not sure what you’re getting from this besides brownie points with Noah. I should go, anyway. I have homework to do.”