Page 7 of Saved By My Buyers

Cyrus only came home to crash, Mom was always working, which meant I had to fend for myself. Tossing my phone onto the bedspread, I ignore the incoming call that’s sure to be Jack, to make myself some food and start writing Jackson’s History paper.

My life isn’t in the least bit glamorous.

Two months later

Opening the door to the apartment, I can immediately tell there’s someone inside of it. Stiffening, I look over my shoulder, trying to figure out if I should leave and call the police. There’s someone talking to themselves inside, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

“Dahlia, why are you letting all the cool air out? Come in for heaven’s sakes,” Mom asks, stepping out of the living room. The way the apartment is set up, it doesn’t give a clear view of everything from the door.

Forcing myself not to sag with relief as my heartbeat continues to thunder in my ears, I force myself to nod as I come inside. Mom never speaks to me in Spanish, yet she got this job because she was fluent. Instead, I take classes at school so I can possibly feel closer to her.

I doubt that it’ll help, but learning Spanish is important to me. Probably because my mother is holding her first language hostage from me. Dramatic? Maybe a little.

“I didn’t mean to,” I say, stepping inside and closing the door behind myself. “I didn’t know you’d be home, and hearing someone inside kind of freaked me out.”

“Oh,” she grunts. “I didn’t think of that, I’ve just been so excited, and wanted to talk to you.”

Mom has this kind of energy that I can only describe as both anxious and excited. It feels unpredictable, which makes me uncomfortable as I lock myself in the apartment with her. She’s my mother, but I haven’t seen her in six months.

“Tell me all about it?” I ask, focusing on taking deep, quiet breaths. It’s sad that just breathing could set someone off, but that’s how my mom is.

“I’m making us food. I thought you’d be home earlier. What have you been up to?” she asks.

“I stayed at the library at school because it’s exam week,” I explain. This school doesn’t play when it comes to finals, and being that it’s the end of the school year, everyone is competing to be the best.

I’m even on hiatus from doing other people’s work this week to study, because finals are one thing I won’t do for people. They have to sink or swim on their own. The exam monitors are also insanely good at sniffing out cheaters. It’s not worth the extra money.

“It’s already the end of school soon, isn’t it?” Mom muses. “Even better, then. You won’t miss a thing! Everything's coming together so well. When is your last exam?”

“It’s on Friday. Ah, I still don’t know what’s going on, Mom,” I remind her gently, making sure there’s space between us. I haven’t even dropped my backpack with the school emblem that I ironed on myself because Mom wasn’t around.

“Oh right,” she says, nodding, walking into the kitchen quickly.

Getting more worried by the second, I pull on the straps of my backpack as I follow her at a slower pace. Inside, she’s making empanadas from scratch, causing my mouth to water.

I’ve tried to replicate her food from recipes I’ve found online, but can’t seem to get it right. As much as she’s been gone, at least one night a week, Mom found the time to cook me a meal while she was in town.

Slowly taking off my backpack, I place it out of the way while I sit at the island. Mom has never allowed me to help her make dinner while she’s cooking. I watch hungrily as she cooks, hoping to memorize how she does things so I can replicate it when she disappears again.

It’s what she does, so I expect it. It’s easier to not be disappointed later this way.

“So what’s up?” I ask, as if she hasn’t been gone with no contact for the past six months. I’ve seen Jack more than I’ve seen my own mother at this point. Somehow, he’s managed to make two trips to visit me since he ‘found’ my phone number.

He dropped a pretty large bomb on me last time, and asked me if I wanted to live with him. This was two weeks ago. I’ve been ignoring his calls, because I just don’t know what to say.

Jack is amazing. I just don’t want to mess his life up. He’s never had a kid full time around him. Borrowing me here and there doesn’t really count, I feel.

“So, as you know, I’ve been traveling as a nurse,” Mom says slowly as if I’m ten. Keeping a frown off my face as I nod is difficult, but I do it to keep her from getting angry with me. “I accepted a full time position in Detroit, Michigan two months ago, with amazing benefits!”

Blinking at her, I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. I don’t think I’ve ever been rendered speechless before.

“I know, you’re wondering how I managed that,” Mom continues, grinning proudly as she pats her long, dark hair into place. She piled it at the top of her head to make sure it stayed out of her face.

Mom doesn’t have one gray or white hair at thirty-eight-years-old, and she’s very proud of it.

She married Dad when she was nineteen, traveling with him while he was in law school getting his degree. Cyrus, Dad, and she lived together in the family apartments on campus while he studied hard to graduate and then pass the Florida bar.

They all talked really fondly about that time… and then I was born five years later.

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