Chapter 42
NEIGHBORLY AND ALL
MOLLY
Ifeel like a wrung out dishtowel.
As soon as he left, I dragged myself inside, feeling like a marionette with cut strings.
The door was unlocked again, though I swear I locked it, and I'm glad Grey didn't notice.
He worries too much. I dumped my bag next to the front door, tossed my keys and purse on the table.
Shuffled into my room to change, pulling a pair of sweatpants and a red Rambler's sweatshirt.
It smells like Grey. I gather up the front a couple of times to bury my face in it like a freak.
Every time I do it, my nerves unwind a little bit more.
The house feels stuffy, dark, stale, so I make my way around opening windows before heading out to the front porch swing.
It creaks and groans but holds my weight well enough, and I push myself off, staring at a honeysuckle on the property line. It's just started to bloom, filing the spring air with its sweet, heady scent.
I've never been so hurt.
I've never been so tired.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone to text Cass, knowing she's probably bugged out, waiting for news. This is confirmed when she texts me back within seconds.
Thank god Christine is on our side. I couldn't handle having our jobs on the line on top of everything else.
The room moms slip into my mind and take over, the encounter replaying.
I thought everybody was supposed to grow up, not act like high school bullies from an eighties movie.
God bless Cass--I think I was too shocked to argue, so if she hadn't been there, I don't know if I would have even had the brain to stand up for myself.
I thought we were on the same team. They just got me all those books, raised all that money for the library.
It was like they've never met me before.
How quickly they turned on me.
Not on Cass's watch.
A little chuckle makes me feel better.
When my phone rings, I think it's her. But it's my mom.
I take a deep breath, put on my totally fine smile, and answer.
"Hey, Mama." When I see her, I frown. "What's the matter?"
She looks as tired as I feel, worn down. Her eyes are red and puffy, her nose red too. She tries to put on her totally fine smile and fails magnificently.
"Hey, honey."
"Are you okay? Have you been crying?"
"Yes, have you?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Just a little. But I'm fine."
One of her brows arches. "Is it the mystery boy?"
"No. Mystery boy is good. Tell me what happened, Mama."
"Oh, well…" She hesitates, looks away. I get the sense she's second guessing calling me.
"It's okay," I say gently, worried. "You can talk to me."
"I know, honey. I know." She sighs, dabs at her nose. "Your father and I had a fight, that's all."
It happens, but they're so weirdly private. She never talks to me about it. Dad would probably freak--he'd rather pretend like everything is perfect than talk about his feelings or any feelings he's a part of with somebody else.
I don't know what happened, but it must be rough if she's calling me.
"About what?" I ask.
"You." The word wobbles and falls off as she starts to cry again.
It's strange and scary to see her like this. I don't know what to say, so I wait for her.
She sniffles, gets herself together enough to speak.
"We just disagree on a lot of things where you're concerned.
And I always defer to him. I always give him what he wants.
That's on me." She pulls a fresh tissue and swipes at her nose.
"God, I'm sorry, chicken. This isn't your problem.
I shouldn't come to you with this kind of thing. "
"Don't do that, Mama. It's okay. I'm here. Tell me what happened." I don't think she has anybody else to talk to and pray she'll talk to me.
"He just…" Her face cracks briefly, her breath hitching.
"He just wants you under lock and key. He hates that you're there and not home with us.
But it's--you're an adult. When does he think it's going to be okay for you to grow up and move on?
I told him you were seeing somebody and he didn't like that.
At all." She sniffles, brushes tears away.
"But you've gotta grow up, baby. I want you to have all the things you want.
You're not a little girl anymore. You're not five years old, you're almost twenty-five.
And I'm just so sick of it. I am so tired of giving him what he wants.
I'm tired of him not listening to me. I'm tired, Molly. I am so tired."
I'm reeling but working to keep myself together for her. "Why is he like this? Why won't he let me go?"
She looks away again, her chin flexing, fresh tears falling. "I don't think he can. I don't know if he ever will. He's scared, and he's tried to control your entire life in an effort to keep you safe."
Exasperated, I huff, "Safe from what? Mama, it's crazy, you know that, right? Like--safe from what?"
This time, she starts to sob. What the hell is going on? Still I have no idea what to do. So again, I wait.
"He said we shouldn't tell you. He said you shouldn't know. But I think that's for his sake, not yours."
"Know what? Mama, please. Please tell me what's going on."
"I want to. I've wanted to forever. Since…well, always. I never wanted this, any of it."
Her gaze snaps behind her phone, and she freezes, puts on that bullshit smile and I hear my Dad say," What's going on?" his voice strange, hard.
"Hey," she says cheerily, trying to pull her face together. "I thought you were going to the gym."
This time, he sounds like himself. "I forgot my water. Is that Molly?" He appears next to her, smiling casually like Mom isn't sitting on the floor in her closet crying. "Hey, chicken! What are you up to?"
And on goes my bullshit smile too, since we're all lying. "Oh, not much, just ready for spring break!"
"You know what, honey," Mom starts, "let me call you back, okay?"
"I…ah--yeah! Yeah. Sure. Okay. Love y'all."
"Love you," they say in unison. And then she hangs up.
Every molecule in my body sinks, the hairs on the back of my neck rising, the sickening knot in my stomach twisting and tightening. I can't process what she said. How long has she been unhappy? Has she just been pretending?
Is it all just a lie?
And what else have they lied about? What secret did she want to tell me?
I have a feeling Dad's not going to the gym. Which means she won't call me back alone. Which means she won't tell me what the hell is going on.
Movement catches my eye--someone walking down the street with a dog.
I recognize him, the man from the baseball game. Older, quiet. Faded baseball cap. But this time, he's got a big, slobbery mutt, straining against its leash. He sees me, waves that neutral neighborhood sort of wave, and I wave back, still distracted.
But then his dog sees me and decides he has better plans--he pulls loose, wild eyed and tongue flopping, so happy to be running free, he looks like he's smiling. I laugh as he barrels up the steps and half into my lap to slobber all over me.
"Duke! Duke, get back here--" the man calls, trying to hurry after him.
But I don't mind--I can't help but giggle, taking his face in both hands and scratching his ears. "Oh my gosh, hi buddy!" And then he proceeds to lick me to death.
The man reaches the porch, apologetic. "I'm so sorry--he's got no manners."
"That's okay, I love dogs. He's sweet. Aren't you, Duke?' Duke pants and leans into my hands and slobbers, his tail going crazy.
The man watches me with Duke, something soft in his expression that I can't quite read, too well guarded.
"Did I meet you at a baseball game a couple weeks ago?"
"Not properly. Name's Danny."
I smile. "Molly. Nice to officially meet you."
A pause. "You too."
He looks at me for a moment, long enough that I almost ask if something's wrong. He clears his throat.
I keep my smile up against the strange energy. "What is it you do, Danny?"
"Quarry foreman, use'ta be. And you said you're the school librarian? Duke--oh hell, dog," he mumbles at the dog, trying to pull him away as he tries to climb into my lap like he weighs ten pounds and not sixty.
I giggle. "Really, he's all right. Yes, I'm the librarian at the elementary school."
"You like being around books all day?"
"No, I love it. I've always loved to read, ever since I was a little girl, so this is really my dream job."
"Yeah?" Something flickers in his eyes. "What's your favorite book? Bet you've hand one since then."
"My first real book was The Hobbit. My grown-up answer is To Kill A Mockingbird. But my off-record answer? A shark shifter romance. Which is also funny because I'm terrified of sharks."
"A shark…shifter?"
"Like a werewolf, but a shark. It's not as insane as it sounds, I swear." I pause, laugh. "Actually, yes it is."
He chuckles, but there's something underneath--wistful? Sad?
"That's real nice. Reading's a gift."
Duke has calmed down enough that I can pet him without getting head butted, and I watch Danny. That strange feeling like I should know him slips over me again, and I try to look deeper to see if I can place him.
But my phone buzzes in my lap. Mom.
What levity I've found sinks away again. "Oh, sorry. I should--"
"Of course. Sorry to bother you." Danny reaches for Duke's leash as I answer.
"Hey, Mama--is everything--"
Mom and Dad are both there, happy, smiling, normal.
"Sorry about that, chicken," Mom says. "Tell me about your spring break plans!"
Danny goes still. The color drains from his face, his eyes shielded by his cap. Without a word, he grabs Duke's leash and backs away, not waving, not smiling, just retreating.
Confused, I wave, calling, "Bye! Nice to meet you!"
He doesn't look back.
Dad's voice is weird again. "Who was that?"
"Just a neighbor saying hello."
I watch him go, something nagging at me, but my parents are talking, asking me questions, and I head inside, appeasing them on autopilot. There's a tension between them I clock. Mom is off. Dad is too cheerful. Something happened. Something they're not telling me.
But I can't ask. So I file it away.
Get through this, and Grey will be here. And in a few days, we'll have eleven of just us. Mom will tell me when she can.
And the rest can wait.