Chapter 20 #2
Zona said nothing as she set a mug of coffee on the table for her, along with a bottle of classic caramel coffee syrup.
“Why do you keep blaming him when you’re not interested?” Louise argued. “He’s looking ahead to the future and wants a family.”
Bree plopped onto a chair and glared at her coffee mug. “No way am I going to be another Mom,” she said, delivering a fresh knife prick to Zona’s heart.
Louise stepped in before Zona could say anything. “All right, now. That is enough piling guilt on your mother’s shoulders. She thought she was choosing well when she married, but Gary changed. His actions aren’t her fault. She took a chance and trusted.”
“Twice,” sneered Bree.
“One of those chances I took gave me you,” said Zona, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask to be born,” Bree retorted.
“You didn’t ask to be loved either, but you are, even though right now you’re making it hard,” Zona shot back.
“And you’re making choices that could turn out just as badly,” said Louise.
Bree opened her mouth to speak, and Louise silenced her with a pointing finger.
“And don’t you dare start squawking about the evil patriarchy and how bad men are and how they can’t be trusted.
There are women out there who are just as bad.
People are people. Some are selfish and some are kind.
Some have been raised with principles and some haven’t.
Some walk in light, others walk in darkness, and it has nothing to do with what sex they are.
You don’t have to rush into any kind of commitment, but you’d better knock that chip off your shoulder before it makes you lopsided. ”
Bree’s eyes filled with tears and her mouth trembled. “My head hurts. Can I go home now?”
“Yes. That would be a good idea,” Zona said irritably.
She opted to take Bree home in her mother’s car, not wanting to chance a problem with hers until she could get someone to look at it. She’d checked when she first got up and it still wasn’t smelling too good inside. It would need a second cleaning to get rid of eau de barf.
“Why are we taking Gram’s car?” Bree asked as Zona unlocked the door, her voice cold.
“Why do you think?” Zona replied.
Yes, it came out as snappish, but that was the only way it could come out considering how snappish she was feeling. It was hard being judged by her daughter, and even if she deserved it she was getting tired of it. She was working as hard as she could to fix things.
Bree said nothing to that, just climbed in and clammed up.
Zona had only seen the apartment when she first helped Bree move in, but she remembered where it was. Which was a good thing considering their current lack of communication.
Bree didn’t get out once the car was stopped. “Thanks for washing my clothes,” she said, looking down at her knees.
“You’re welcome.” Zona wanted to reach over and put an arm around her embarrassed and unhappy girl and kiss the top of her head, but the distance between them felt more than a couple of feet.
To her surprise, Bree closed it. “I’m sorry I was mean.”
They were the sweetest words Zona had heard in a long time, and they produced a teary smile.
Bree leaned over and kissed Zona’s cheek. “Thanks for being there for me. I love you, even if you did screw up.”
Zona didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or defend herself.
“I’m a screw-up, too,” Bree added softly.
“And I love you. I always will,” Zona told her.
Bree nodded, then was out the door and hurrying to her apartment.
Zona let down the window and called her daughter’s name.
Bree turned.
“If you need a ride tonight, don’t call HopIn.”
Bree smiled, gave her a thumbs-up, and kept going.
brEE’S ROOMMATE WASN’T exactly happy to see her.
Gaylyn was seated at their small kitchen table with her friend and their third roommate Monique, Gaylyn eating two-day-old pizza for breakfast and Monique, the skinniest woman on the planet, sipping her latest fad diet drink. Both looked at her in disgust.
“You know you made a complete joke out of yourself last night. And me, too, ’cause I was with you,” Gaylyn scolded.
Bree hadn’t started the night with plans to make a joke out of anyone, not until they’d gone in the club and she’d caught sight of Fen, seated at a table with a bunch of his friends.
Seated between two girls. He’d looked her way, caught sight of her, and the smile had dropped from his face.
He’d said something to his buddies, then left.
For a second she’d thought he was coming over to see her, but he wasn’t.
Instead, he’d made for the exit. Things had gone downhill after that.
“Dumping your drink on that poor guy,” added Monique, shaking her head. “So classless. And such a waste of booze.”
“He only wanted you to dance with him,” Gaylyn put in.
“He was with someone. Didn’t you see?” Bree demanded. The evidence is undeniable. Defendant is not guilty.
“He was with a whole group of people,” Monique informed her. “And guess what. It turned out that girl was his cousin.”
“Oh.” The defendant is guilty as charged.
“If you’d just stopped there. But, no, you had to climb up on the table and scream that every man in the room was scum and every woman who was with one was brain dead,” Gaylyn continued.
Bree had a hazy memory of that. She also had a hazy memory of suggesting what those men could do to themselves.
“You looked like a complete crazy,” Gaylyn continued.
“Oh, and you’ve never gone crazy?” Bree retorted.
“Like that? What do you think?”
“I’m sorry,” Bree said, and fell onto the third chair at the table. “I guess I’m having a hard time over Fen leaving.”
“You didn’t want him so what do you care?” Gaylyn argued.
Bree had no answer for that.
“If you ever do something like that again, I’m canceling your girlfriend card, and you can go live with your grandma and your mom,” Gaylyn finished.
At that, Bree burst into tears.
“Hey, okay, I’m not mad anymore,” Gaylyn hurried to say.
She shoved the pizza box Bree’s direction to prove it. The sight of it made Bree’s stomach turn over. She shoved it back and went to the refrigerator to pull out a can of La Croix.
“And I was kind of worried,” Gaylyn added. “That driver was supposed to bring you home. Whose address was that where you ended up?”
Bree settled back in her chair and popped open the can, tried to ignore the heat on her face. “That driver was my mom, and she took me to my Gram’s.” Who got picked up from a club by her mother? So lame.
Both roommates gaped at her.
“Your mom’s a HopIn driver?” Gaylyn sounded both shocked and disgusted. Hardly surprising, since her mom owned a clothing boutique. “I thought she had a normal job.”
The heat on Bree’s face turned into an inferno. “This is her second job. She’s doing side hustles to make extra money for my nursing school.”
“Wow. My mom wouldn’t do that,” said Monique.
“I puked in her car,” Bree said.
She might have been able to convince herself that she’d dreamed that if not for the fact that her mother had washed her clothes. Ugh.
“Gross-o,” said Gaylyn.
“What about your dad? Isn’t he paying for your college?” asked Monique.
“Her dad’s a crook. He raided the savings account. That’s why they’re divorced,” Gaylyn explained, spilling the tea.
Bree wished she could crawl under the table. “That’s my stepdad.” No real relation. Except her real dad wasn’t much better. “My dad’s giving me some money.” A lot less than some if they were going to get technical.
“What a tool,” said Monique. “So amazing that your mom is working extra for you. She sounds awesome.”
“She is,” Bree said.
Except when it came to picking men. Had Bree inherited her mother’s love disaster gene?
She thought again of Fen. If only they could simply stay friends forever. But then they’d be stuck in limbo.
Except now what was she stuck in? Suckage.
Suckage was better than wreckage. She needed to remember that.
She also needed to do something to make up for her bad behavior of the night before. “I gotta go,” she said.
A few moments later, she’d grabbed her purse, which Gaylyn had brought home for her, and her car keys and was on her way to Walmart.