Chapter 34
My mom stood in my doorway. Without waiting for me to invite her in, she sat on my bed.
“I’ve been saying this for years: ‘You can’t quit your job and not tell me.
’ How many times do I have to say the same thing?
And what am I meant to do? Quit my job because this man is in office and then we’re both out of work? I’m tired of being the bad guy.”
“No one thinks you’re the bad guy.”
She exhaled. “That’s not true.”
“He could be doing more to help you, but it’s like, you don’t say anything then you blow up.”
She snapped her head around, forehead crinkled. “I’ve been doing this for twenty-something years. I know how to deal with him.” She wore her misery like a badge of honor. I never understood it.
“You know they’re talking about firing federal workers, like, a lot of them.”
“Well, let him fire me. I’m not gonna give up free retirement money out of fear.
We’re talking thousands of dollars for the rest of my life.
That’s what I’d be giving up. We can’t afford it.
” With a curt hand, she swept some crumbs from my bedspread and rose to flick them into the trash.
“He’s always in front of that damn TV.” We were talking about my dad again.
“I think he’s depressed.”
She looked at me. “We’re all depressed. That doesn’t stop you from moving forward.”
I thought that was exactly what depression did, but I didn’t say anything. I held her hand. She stroked her thumb over my knuckles.
“Can I ask you something and can you not get mad?” I said.
“How can I promise not to get mad if I don’t know what you’re asking?”
“Mom.”
“Fine.”
I held my breath. Then I released it. “Who’s Sam?”
She turned away. “Now, why would you ask me something silly like that?”
“I saw the birthday card.”
“Cut it out, Catherine.”
“Why don’t you ever want to tell me stuff?”
“Because it’s private, it’s mine,” she cried. “It’s a birthday card, that’s all. Now, I don’t want to be asked about this again.”
I went quiet. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “It’s all right, baby. How’s Jay doing? Did you all have a good time?”
“Yes,” I lied. The truth wasn’t an option. The moment wouldn’t have survived the truth.
“Good.” She kissed my forehead and left.
I searched “Sam Washington DC middle-aged man,” but of course found nothing.
I got in bed early, my phone pressed to my face in case Jay called.
It’d been four days since we last spoke, the longest we’d ever gone.
He was probably celebrating New Year’s Eve with friends, but I hoped he might give in and call me.
Around eight, my phone glowed behind my eyelids. The screen was slimy with sweat and dandruff when I pulled away.
Tristan: Got NYEs plans?
Me: no I’m a loser. U?
Tristan: guess I’m a loser too
Tristan: wanna come over?
I nearly coughed my heart up. It seemed meant for someone else.
Someone who’d “come over” before. Why wasn’t he with Nia?
Had they broken up? Jay still hadn’t called or texted.
I contemplated staying home, waiting for him.
I knew going over to Tristan’s would cross a line.
But Jay’s words about a break played in my brain, and that line shifted toward my feet.