Chapter 71
Cornelia
Isit in the little sitting area at the front of the stairs on the first floor of my house. Waiting. Bored. And missing TJ.
Since we got back together, we’ve spent every waking moment together. Today is the first day we won’t be seeing each other. As I decided that today would be the day I finally tell Anthony my decision about college.
Sadly, the day I chose seems to be my brother’s busiest day of the year. I’ve been trying to meet him all day without success. But at last, two hours ago, he sent me a message saying he was almost done with a meeting and would come home.
I’m quite nervous about the talk. I hate disappointing him.
I know how much he loves working with me.
But after all, it’s my life, and I’ve come up with a middle ground that I hope will make things easier.
If, after the summer and one semester, I haven’t figured out what I want to do with my life, I’ll go back to study business.
I hear the front door open. I get up quickly, trying to make it seem like I haven’t been waiting for him—even though I have. A moment later, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Oh, darling—”
That’s not my brother’s voice.
I glance towards the stairs, and coming up from them is my mother.
She looks like she’s wearing yesterday’s clothes—a little wrinkled, messy blonde hair, sunglasses, and an outfit that screams 70s revival.
Not the least bit put together, but people online would say she looks fabulous.
They love calling her a mix of Kate Moss and Jennifer Lopez.
“Can you tell one of the maids to bring me an ibuprofen and maybe something to drink to my room? I’m not feeling well,” she says to me, touching her head like she’s in agony. Knowing her, she probably is.
She doesn’t wait for my answer, just disappears down the hall towards her bedroom.
I haven’t seen her in… almost a year. The last time I did, she was in bed with my boyfriend, and this is the first thing she says to me. It’s not like I expected much from her, but I didn’t expect nothing—maybe just a plain sorry.
I stand in the hall, stunned. I thought maybe I’d never see her again.
I knew that was unlikely. It was more wishful thinking, but still, I hoped.
It would have been easier for TJ and me to move on if she’d stayed gone.
But now she’s in London. She’s in my house.
And I can’t help thinking about all that happened, all the questions I have, but I am too afraid to ask.
Just thinking about them makes me want to throw up.
I would have liked to yell at her or do something—anything—other than just stand here, frozen.
Once the shock dulls a little, I say, “By the way, sorry for sleeping with your boyfriend and ruining your life,” in a poor imitation of her voice, loud enough that she could hear it. I don’t care if she does. I doubt she’d care anyway.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I say in my own voice, letting out a sigh and a bitter laugh.