Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
After graduation, I move into Mom’s house. I’m eighteen, officially an adult, and neither the courts nor my father can mandate where I live now that school’s over.
Mom helps me pay for trade school to become proficient in professional automotive mechanic skills and earn a certificate.
I’m already knowledgeable from tinkering on vehicles myself and with my brother and friends, but I need the certification to find legit employment.
And I want to learn. My curiosity and love of cars haven’t waned, only strengthened.
My current ride is not the stuff of my dreams. The station wagon is good for two things: sex and transporting my surfboard—but beggars can’t be choosers. It’ll do until I can finish school, find a job, and make some bank.
Now that I’m older, Mom loosens the reins. No curfew, for one thing. Just a lecture about mutual respect, considerately sharing the space, cleaning up after myself, acting responsibly, and not being an overall jerk.
I can finally breathe normally, without sleeping with one eye perpetually open or one ear cocked, waiting for Armageddon to rain down.
On a dime, life turns pretty fucking great: trade school, part-time work, partying with my buds, and occasionally getting laid—no strings attached.
“Are you seeing anyone?” my mother prods over Sunday dinner. She playfully arches her eyebrows, and it does nothing to hide her poorly disguised hope.
“Nope.” I bite into a roasted chicken leg, mentally willing her to stop.
“I may be biased, but you’re a handsome guy, and a nice one—”
I groan. No man wants to hear he’s “nice” and yet I’m unsure why it’s such an insult. I associate it with losers, the kind cool girls don’t want. “Mom…”
“It just seems like ever since Donna—”
“Drop it, Mom.” My tone brooks no argument but when hurt flashes in her eyes, I’m forced to swallow the guilt. See? I’m not a nice guy.
Granted, any mention of Donna only sours my mood. Fuck that lying bitch. Walking in on her getting railed was bad enough. Learning she’d cheated on me numerous times fucked with my head to the point of no return.
How did I not know? How was I so bamboozled? How did I believe every word that dripped from her lying, whore mouth? How was I not enough for her? How can I ever trust a woman again—or even myself—after this disaster?
I keep a strict no-girlfriend rule in place now, ensuring I’ll never get blindsided like that again. It’s the only way I can protect myself.
My mom covers my hand with hers. “Stay openminded, Mick. When the right girl walks into your life, you’re going to be powerless to resist her anyway.”
Doubtful.
I give her a tight smile but keep my opinion to myself.