Page 65 of Knotted Laces

So…I snag his wrist, hold him in place, and then I swipe a finger across the screen, hit the button for speaker.

It takes a second for the call to connect, but then it does, the background noise telling me enough.

She’s up to her usual antics.

“Hi, Mom,” I say quietly and feel Cam jerk next to me, feel his gaze searching out mine.

But I just keep my eyes on my phone and exhale.

“I need some money.”

He jerks again, but I…relax. I know how to deal with this shit, know how to cope with it—ha—okay, so I know how to box it up and shove it down and move forward.

“You know I won’t give you any money,” I remind her.

“I need it for rehab.”

Another old page from the playbook, which is why I counter with the same thing I’ve told her a hundred times, “You know that I’ll pay the facility for it directly if you go.”

A long pause, the cacophony of noise seeming to rise up and take over.

“I need it for food.”

“You know I’ll send a grocery delivery to your apartment.”

“I don’t live there anymore.”

Of course not.

“You know I’ll arrange for you to pick up some food nearby wherever you are. What do you feel like?”

Another pause.

And then I feel the mood shift, that tautness in the air that any kid from an abusive household feels—the razor’s edge of anger, having crossed the point of no return.

“Just wire me the money, you fucking selfish bitch!” she snaps and I feel Cam jerk next to me.

Guilt churns—he hasn’t seen this side of a mother, and I know I’m fucked up for exposing him to it.

But…

His hand stays where it is.

And some deep seated wound in my heart begins to knit itself closed.

I inhale, exhale. “You know that I won’t,” I tell her evenly. “Same as you know that you won’t change my mind, no matter how much you yell.”

Cam’s fingers tense.

“Now,” I go on, “would you like me to order you takeout from somewhere?”

“Always a useless selfish pain in my ass,” she shouts. “What would it take for you to send me a hundred bucks? Nothing!”

I close my eyes. “Everything,” I say quietly.

“Your father would be so disappointed in you.”

I open them again. “He made his disappointment clear while he was alive.”

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