Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
I stared at my mother for maybe a little too long, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything or push me. She didn’t demand I answer or slam her hands down in frustration, which was strange.
We hadn’t always fought. She was right about that when she’d asked me to talk—I understood what she meant when she said she was tired of it. It didn’t feel good to be at each other’s throats all the time, to feel like she was always angry at me. But it had become a thing in recent years. Was it because of my age and me pushing boundaries? Probably. I was a teenager with wants, needs, and a voice, and I’d reached a place where I wasn’t afraid to use both. I’d also reached a place where I wasn’t afraid to do what I wanted, even if it went against my mother’s wishes or made her angry. I think maybe that was a good thing, though. I once read that a healthy child will push boundaries and get into trouble—not becoming a delinquent, but pushing because they feel safe. I wasn’t afraid of my mother; I respected her, and there was a difference.
Maybe that’s where our arguments came from, where we clashed. I was growing up and wanted things she didn’t agree with for reasons I didn’t understand. When I was just in the rhythm of going to college and work, everything fit into place. She went to work, I went to work, and it was fine. In fact, we had many good times. My mother loved watching old movies, and sometimes we’d sit and watch them if she managed to rent one, or we’d play board games. We had an old Monopoly set that was so well-used it had missing pieces that we had to make ourselves, but those were great evenings. I kind of missed that version of us, but I also didn’t want to live in that version for the rest of my life because I had a life to lead.
“You can tell me anything. I just want to help you.”
I didn’t feel anything coming off my mother. Usually, she was full of angst, anger, and so many other things. She was always brimming with emotions that would reach out to me, thick and viscous in the air, but none of that was there as she stared at me.
“Whatever is going on in your life, I’m still your mother, Raven,” she said.
I knew that. I pressed my lips together in a firm line, as if I couldn’t voice the words. They were there in my mouth, but how did I get them out? So I went around the topic and nodded. “Malcolm said I can join his Sentinels. I could sign up when I’m eighteen and train and fight for him.”
My mother studied me for a moment. “Do you want to?”
I didn’t. Or I hadn’t when he first said it, but maybe that was just a knee-jerk reaction. “I have college and my job at Spy Glass.”
“Spy Glass is just a bar, and you can do your studies afterward, when you come back.”
I frowned at her. “You want me to sign up?”
She clasped her hands together and breathed in. I felt what she felt. It was raw, strong, pushing, and there was a level of fear intertwined with it. My mother wasn’t usually so open with letting her emotions out, or maybe I was just usually so closed off. I was well-trained in keeping guard over what I felt around her. How do you argue with your mother when you can literally feel she’s upset and not let the guilt of that make you give in? So, I’d learnt to shield from her and did so naturally most of the time, except when I was tired or upset.
“Joining something like this changes people. Signing up for something like this will make you grow. I’ve seen so many kids, girls and boys, meandering, not finding their way or getting into trouble, and I’ve seen them sign up or be made to sign up and when they come back, they’re different, grown. Something like this could be the making of you. It would bridge you from who you are now to the man you’ll become.”
“But it would mean giving everything up.”
It’s just putting them on hold. It’s not forever. The minimum sign-up is two years, and by the time you’re back, you’ll be twenty. You’ll still be young. You can still do everything you want—you can go back to college and get your degree, but you’ll come back with experience. You’ll have money, and you’ll be in a better position to get to where you want to be in life.
I slumped back down on the sofa. I felt deflated.I didn’t even know why. My mother agreeing to me signing up for Malcolm’s army was the opposite of what I expected, even though he told me he’d spoken to her about it. I got that she was trying to put me back on the right track because she thought I was on the wrong one, but I didn’t agree with her. It was just all confusing.
“Raven …” she said, her tone soft and gentle. I lifted my gaze to meet hers. “I want to help you, that’s all, but I can only do that if you talk to me.”
I let out a sigh. “You know, I always had this idea that I’d work and save and get my degree, and then we’d both get out of this place.” I meant our home. While it was ours and it kept us safe from whatever, it also wasn’t the best. “I thought maybe I could give us a better life.”
She reached out and placed her hand on top of mine. “I don’t need you to look after me.”
“I wasn’t trying to look after you. I was just trying to give us a better life. You’re my mother.”
“Yes, exactly. I am your mother. You owe me nothing.” There was a bite to her words, and I didn’t like it; my panther didn’t like it either.
“I don’t want to argue.”
“We’re not arguing. We’re just talking.”
I sucked in a breath, pulled my hand away from hers, and rubbed my hands over my face to try to get some clarity into my head. Her anger was a bobbing ocean—it was calm one minute and then rising the next, but she didn’t let go of it and unleash it on us like she usually would. She was trying. I could give her that much. She was also nervous, which was an emotion I wasn’t used to feeling coming off her.
“Tell me about this girl. What’s her name?”
I studied my mother’s face for a moment, waiting for a flicker that her interest was feigned, but she wasn’t going to keep hold of herself so well. So I dared. “Her name is Tia,” I said. “She’s a girl in my college.”
“And she’s a panther?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been seeing her behind my back?”
I slammed the walls down on our emotions then. Maybe to stop mine from spilling out, to stop anything. Her anger spiked and it was thick and deep red—a silken blanket that would snatch over us both and suffocate.
“I’m upset that you’ve been sneaking around behind my back, but I’m allowed to be upset about that. I’m not going to shout at you for it. I told you and I promise you I don’t want to argue. I just want to talk.”
I just nodded, still a little wary. Part of me was glad that we were talking. She was my mother, and despite the things I didn’t understand about her actions and emotions, I did love her. She had cared for me and kept me safe my entire life, even if I didn’t know what she was keeping me safe from. She was my mother, and I was lucky for that. Another part of me felt just relieved to be talking to somebody and not have to keep it all locked up inside.
“Will you tell me what happened with the humans now? Why Malcolm was dropping you off? Why you were sneaking back in through the window?”
“It’s stupid.”
“It always is. But that doesn’t make it any less important to you. Talk to me, Raven. I want to listen and I want to help you.”
So I told her. I told her about the night at Spy Glass when I met Tia, about the idiots who came in and started to tease and taunt her, throwing things at her. I told her about meeting her in the back alley and how I stuck up for her and chased them away. I told her about taking Tia to the field for a run and how we’d just gone to the café. I was just showing her places I knew because she was new in town. Then I told her how the humans had come and tried to antagonise me and it all got out of hand. I told her about Malcolm picking me up from the human station. I didn’t tell her about the money. Not yet.
And my mother listened as I talked, and it was strange, but I settled into it. “You know I’m proud of you?” she said. “I’m proud of who you are and what you did. So many others would have left that girl to her fate, walked away, but you didn’t.”
I shrugged. “It didn’t feel right to do that.” I paused. I had to say it. I had to tell her. I looked my mother right in the eyes. “They want ￡10,000 from me.” I watched her as I said it and put my shutters down. I didn’t want to feel her reaction to it and her disappointment.
Instead, she leant back, crossed her arms over her chest, and put her hand to her chin.
“Malcolm says that if I join the Sentinels, he will pay me a year’s salary in advance, and I can pay them off and still have some left.”
“But if you do that, then you have nothing for yourself.”
“No. But it secures us in Society.”
She put her hand up. “I told you, you are not responsible for me.” She got up out of her seat, and I thought this was all about to flip. I braced myself for it, even though I was so tired, but I was ready. Maybe. Instead, she changed the subject. “What time is class tomorrow?”
“Early,” I said.
She exhaled slowly. “You should go to bed. It’s late.” She walked over to the counter, put her hands flat on it, and let her head bow. There was nothing else for us to say. That was it. Over. And she was right. We hadn’t argued.
Still, I got up and went to her, standing beside her. “I’m sorry I let you down,” I said.
She shook her head, looked at me over her shoulder. “No. You have never let me down. Go and get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”