Page 80 of Five Summers

Her words cut through me like sharp daggers. While the unfounded accusation of me being promiscuous didn’t bother me, it was when she labeled Xander as a loser that truly hurt. It bugs me she doesn't have her own point of view and just sees things the way Xander says people see him. It's not his fault his life turned upside down when his mom passed away.

“His name is Xander, and he is anything but a loser,” I add, feeling annoyed.

“I know exactly who he is, damn it. The entire neighborhood knows about that boy,” she exclaims, ranting and pacing around the room. Suddenly, she pauses, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “Wait, is he the one who influenced you to change your plans for next year?” Without waiting for my response, she continues her rant, pacing back and forth. “That’s why I couldn’t reach you. It’s all his fault.”

“No, Mother, he didn’t influence me. He simply made me realize the importance of standing up for what I want,” I explain. Her constant blaming of Xander is truly starting to irritate me. I walk over to the bed and neatly arrange the sheets, deliberately avoiding any further discussion on the topic. Yep, she busted me sleeping with Xander, and I take responsibility for getting caught, but I wish she’d move on already.

“I’m amazed at how naïve you are. Do you truly believe that he actually cares about you? Brace yourself for a harsh realitycheck because the truth is, he’s only using you, and you’ve fallen for it. Can’t you see that he’s just like your father? That boy will never genuinely care for you, no matter what he says. It’s all just empty lines that they feed you, my dear, foolish girl.”

“Seriously, it’s time to move on. It’s been over eight years since you and Dad were together. Your constant dwelling on him is getting exhausting.” My comment takes her by surprise. “Honestly, I can’t handle hearing about how he messed up and hurt you anymore. It's totally wearing me out.”

“Do you honestly think things will change with that boy? Wake up. He’s simply toying with you. Can’t you see that?”

“You don’t know who he is, so keep your opinions to yourself. Are we done here?” With the bed now tidied up, I stand, hoping she’ll grasp my subtle hint and leave my room, thus putting an end to this conversation. However, she remains unmoved, giving me a chilling stare.

“No, we can’t just drop this conversation. Come out to the family room immediately. I can’t be in here, aware of what you did with that boy in your bed.”

“Sorry, but I’m done talking about this. Feel free to close the door when you leave, because I’m finished.” I turn and flop on the bed.

“You have two choices here, Poppy. Either you come talk to me now or I'll call the police and let them know that the scumbag from two doors down broke into our house. It's your choice.”

Seriously, is she for fucking real? I give her the death stare. I'm so pissed off that it's come to that. “You can’t be serious?”

“Yes, Poppy, I’m serious. If you don’t get out into that room now, I’ll make that call.” With those words, she walks out of my room.

Standing there, I can’t help but feel a wave of worry as I watch the doorway long after she’s gone. The time has come for me to step out of the safety of my room and confront her angerhead-on. It’s a simple decision, really. I have to go out there because if I don’t, she’ll start causing trouble for Xander. And that’s something I absolutely cannot allow to happen.

Xander has so many aspirations, and so many dreams he wants to pursue. Life hasn’t been kind to him so far, and if my mother were to interfere, it would be an absolute disaster. Xander would be stuck with a criminal record before he even gets a shot at chasing his dream of fame, his music career. Just imagine how a record label would view that, especially with a breaking-and-entering charge hanging over his head. It’s no wonder my dad walked away. I’m willing to bet he couldn’t handle the constant turmoil my mother put him through.

I let out a groan as I get up off the bed and make my way down the hallway.

As I step into the family room, the sound of clattering dishes in the kitchen fills my ears, serving as a reminder of the mess I left behind last night. My plan was to get up early and clean it all before my mom came home. But with Xander showing up and keeping me awake all night, everything got messed up.

I'm just standing there, watching her as she fills a glass at the sink.

She drinks the water, puts the glass upside down on the sink, and then turns to look at me. She points to the table. “Take a seat,” she instructs.

I make my way over and sit in my usual spot at the table.

“How long has this been going on?” she asks, taking a seat across from me.

The tension in the room is palpable, like an electric current crackling through the air.

“How long has what been going on?” I play dumb on purpose, acting like I know nothing. If she's gonna act like a bitch, I will too.

“Stop it with the games, Poppy.”

Glancing at my hands, I can’t help but notice the faint marks left behind by my nails digging into my palms ever since she caught Xander and me in the room.

“About a week or so,” I say, not letting on that it had really been just over three months.

“Can you tell me how it started?” She gets up and slowly walks around the table, her footsteps echoing on the tiles.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, not in the mood to engage in this conversation with her. It was none of her business what I did while I was here alone. If she hadn't found us this morning, she wouldn't have a clue about what was happening. There was no way I could tell her that Xander had been coming here for months. She’d be furious if she ever found out. I’ve never had the kind of relationship with my mother where I could openly share things. That dynamic was always reserved for my dad.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she asks, coming back to the table and bending down to look into my face, as if attempting to intimidate me into answering. “You must know, I’m not that naïve, Poppy.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

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