Page 83 of David's Chase

“Nothing. We’ll see,” I say laconically while she sets her car in motion and moves us closer to the store.

Minutes later, we walk in.

I so wish I didn’t have to rush, but I know her. Once we hit the aisles she’ll want to shop for herself as well.

She still shops like I live with her, buying food whenever the opportunity arises.

With some begging on my part, we exit the store a few minutes later and return to her car.

I have packed a peanut butter jar, a fresh loaf of bread, a box of strawberries and blueberries, yogurt, cheese and a few apples in a grocery bag.

We slip into our seats and close the doors.

“Are you sure it’s enough?” Terry asks, running her gaze down while waiting for my answer.

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

“What’s the hurry?” she asks, luckily swerving the car away.

Saddened, I glance at my new car as we roll past it.

“I have a lot of stuff to do.”

“Do you need help?”

“No,” I say too quickly not to make her study me with inquisitive eyes.

“You’re too stressed out,” she says.

My laughter barely conceals my nerves.

“How could I not be? I have to go to school and work the entire week.”

I stop at the last moment.

It used to be…I have to go to school and work and hardly have any money.

My mother lifts an eyebrow at me.

“I’m cold and tired,” I say, looking out the window as we roll through an intersection.

“You can come to my place.”

I stifle my reaction, which is mostly panic.

“No. I’ll be fine,” I say softly. “I’m getting the hang of it.”

“How are things going? How was your weekend?”

A kernel of angst spins in my chest. Weekend, weekend…. What did I say to her?

Oh, the weekend.

“The weekend was fine. We had fun,” I say in a boring voice. “It’s hard to come back to this crazy schedule,” I say, and my mother’s focus moves away from me.

It doesn’t take long, and we enter my neighborhood.

She drops me off, and as soon as I have my bag of groceries at the door and wave her goodbye, she pulls away while I clutch my phone.

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