Page 86 of Soul of a Psycho

I shouldn’t be here. Not with a satchel of emotions I’ve never navigated. This dinner is a loaded gun, and my finger is already on the trigger. One wrong move and I don’t know what I’ll do. The only thing keeping me from bolting is Sky, her hand small and warm in my icy grip. And yet, she’s the reason we’re here in the first place.

I want to be upset with her, but I can’t. I can’t even feign irritation with her. I’m too tired, too easily undone by the look in her eye. She’s so hopeful, so encouraging. She just wants me to be happy. It’s not her fault my mother cornered us in the library.

The headmistress knew exactly what she was doing, hinting at a Christmas dinner. I had been successfully avoiding everyholiday with her and Rykes by shutting her out. But she knew she could use Sky as a point of entry. And Sky, so eager to please, so proper and optimistic, told her we would come.

I focus my weary anger on my mother as we take a seat. The table is laid out with dried pine cones, fake berries, and green cloth napkins. It’s nice. My mother always makes things nice.

I groan at the sentimental thought and run a hand down my face. I’m not thinking clearly. Sky rubs my thigh under the table, trying to soothe me, and I take a deep breath. I just need to get through this. Where the fuck is Rykes so we can start?

I crane my neck at the hallway behind my mother. The small but luxurious lodging would be considered a shotgun home, with every room behind the other, in a straight line. We came in through the front where the main living area lies and then passed through a small hallway into the dining room. Further beyond is the kitchen and bedrooms. Is he back there, taking his sweet fucking time?

“Where’s Rykes?” I grab a napkin and drop it onto my lap.

“Hm?” My mother fidgets with her silverware.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. We’re back to this beat around the bush avoidance shit. Well, not on my time.

“Your controlling piece of shit boyfriend. Where is he? Cause I’m starving.” I lie. I’m not hungry in the slightest. Even though the idea of pumpkin pie with my mother’s brown sugar whipped cream makes my salivary glands water.

“Cade,” Sky hisses under her breath.

I told her about Rykes. Sheknowshe’s a piece of shit. But she can’t let go of her manners. It’s okay, my lack of can make up for both of us. I ignore her scolding and look at my mother.

“Well?” I ask.

“He…” She looks out the window at the piling snow. “He won’t be joining us.”

She grabs a napkin and forces a smile. She’s stilted in the way she moves, hesitant, like she’s walking on eggshells.

“Why?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer. If he did something to her, I’m going to flip the table.

“Asparagus, sweetheart?” She holds out a dish to Sky, avoiding the question.

“Whywon’t he be joining us?” I can’t tell if my tone is more agitated or suspicious.

I should be relieved that I don’t have to sit through a meal with him, but it doesn’t make sense. He lords over everything my mother does. Especially meals. All I ever wanted up until Sophomore year was a dinner with my mother, just the two of us, but I could never get so lucky.

She gives a dainty shrug, like it’s all no big deal. “I told him not to come.”

“You told him not to come?” I repeat it more for my benefit than hers, stunned out of original words.

“How about some yams?” she asks Sky, ignoring me.

An hour later, I can barely keep my eyes open. Between getting seconds, two servings of pie, and half the rolls, a coma is likely. Habit would have me inching towards the door, desperate to leave before my mother excuses herself to the bathroom. But Sky insisted on helping her clean up, and I gather a few plates myself, following them into the kitchen.

I’m waiting for it as I rinse a plate. It’s inevitable and she likely can’t wait any longer. We lingered at the table for too long. The food is probably digesting by now. And she ate a lot of it. Almost as much as me. But it’s just a show. A compulsion she does around me, as if we both don’t know. My own digesting food suddenly feels like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I want out of here.

Now.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom, Ms. Haven?” Sky asks.

Damn it.

“Of course. Just through there.” My mother smiles, actually smiles, as if she doesn’t have any rush to get in there herself.

When I hear the bathroom door click, I drop the plate in the sink and turn on her.

“What the fuck is all this?” It’s meant to come out as a demand, but it sounds more like a plea, and I have to narrow my eyes to give it some conviction.

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