Page 40 of Loathe at First Sight

She sighs. “I know. But I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“I know. I know.”

She’s suspiciously quiet for a minute, and I can tell that she’s got something she wants to say but isn’t sure if she should.

“What’s up, Mom? I can tell something is wrong.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Clearly, it’s something. Spit it out.”

“Another tabloid article came out about you today. It just frustrates me that you worked so hard to get away from here and start over and people still feel the need to run their mouths.”

“Mom, you need to stop reading that garbage. You know none of it is true.”

“I know that,” she says. “It doesn’t mean that I like seeing it pop up on my phone.”

“Why are you going looking for it?”

“I’m not. I still have a Google alert set for when your name pops up. I set it back in the day, and now, I can’t figure out how to make it stop.”

“Alright, I’ll send you a link in a little while that will show you how to turn it off.”

“Thanks, dear.”

As much as I don’t give a shit what the tabloids say about me, it bothers my mom to see anything negative about her son. Of course, it does. If it were my kid, I’d be pissed too.

“What did they say?” I ask, sensing that she wants to talk about it.

“It was an article about Staci--that model you dated. I guess she’s dating someone new, and they were spotted on a big yacht or something. But then, it goes on to talk about your relationship with her. It said after your fall from grace, that she moved on to bigger and better things.”

“Well, that sounds like it was an article more about Staci than about me, Mom,” I tell her.

“I agree with you…until the part where it questions where you went after you left Florida. It suggests that maybe you’re hooked on drugs and in rehab. Or maybe you and Staci had a big blow-up. She made an accusation that you two had a big fight, and things got physical.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. The tabloids were always in my business, printing stories without any regard for whether or not they were actually true. I was always just able to shrug them off because I knew they weren’t. Even though my mom knows the same, she has a hard time letting it go.

“Just try to ignore it,” I plead. “It will eventually stop. The world will eventually forget me, and they’ll move on to something else to talk about.”

I say the words, and I pray they are true. But it’s already been a couple of years, and they still feel the need to talk shit.

Now, it’s my turn to change the subject. I start asking about some of her friends and what she’s been doing around town. It seems to cheer her up some.

My phone vibrates with a text, but I choose not to look at it while I’m on the phone. I already feel bad that I don’t see my mom as often as I should, so I’ll try to talk to her whenever I can without rushing it. I don’t care what I’m doing. Everything else can wait.

The woman gave up her life to raise me and let me follow my dreams. I think the least I can do is give her some uninterrupted phone time.

When we finally do hang up the phone, I pull up the text. It’s from Jana.

Jana: Hey, I have a huge favor to ask.

Instead of texting, I decide to just give her a call.

When she answers, I ask, “What’s going on, Jana?”

I figure it’s probably about her car. That’s what most people in this town call me for.

“Well, Jack, I’m in a little bit of a pickle.” She takes a deep breath. “Tomorrow, before school, Tali has a breakfast with parents thing. I told her I would go, but my dumb self scheduled an order of 500 cupcakes to be done by noon. I just can’t swing both. I told her I couldn’t make it, and she asked if maybe you could go with her. It shouldn’t take long. Maybe like twenty minutes to half an hour. If you can’t do it, it’s fine, but I thought I’d ask—”

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