Page 17 of Past the Broken Bridges

I look at the pill bottles all stacked by the toaster. Every morning, they’re some of the first things that greet me. I make sure to pour each one out and take them with my coffee. Not only to appease my mother, but to make sure I can make the most of my time here. Anything can happen when you least expect it, but I’ll be damned if I give life a reason to screw me over again.

“Fine, fine,” the woman who raised me relents with another solemn sigh. “Tell me about your day. I want to hear everything. How were classes? Have you met anybody yet? Friends? Boys? Girls?”

Settling into the couch, I hug the pillow to my chest and rest my chin on the edge. Truthfully, the last two days have been lackluster. The only thing we went over in my classes was the syllabus, and a few professors made us go around and share a fun fact like we’re in middle school, but that was it.

The most exciting thing that happened was the way bantering withJustBanks made me feel. Girlish. Dumb. Carefree. I could tell I annoyed him, which made it way more fun. I haven’t seen him in the building or on campusto try poking at him some more, which has only been a little disappointing.

But I don’t tell my mother any of that. She already gave me the safe sex talk once, and I don’t need her thinking that because I find a boy cute, it means there’s going to be an engagement anytime soon. Especially since theopportunityto see him is mere feet away from my front door.

“It’s been a good week,” I opt for, choosing my words carefully. “I met a few people who I could become friends with.”

I spoke to a few girls I have history class with, not that our conversations were long. One of them I only said hi to, another I tried talking to about our majors—she was undecided and uninterested in telling me much more—and I told a different one that I liked her sandals because she’d caught me staring at her missing toe. Not my best first impression, even though I wasn’t judging her. I’d been half tempted to share my battle scars and ask what happened. Considering she bolted before I could say much else, I didn’t consider it a win. But it was progress all the same.

My eyes go to my door, where I hear footsteps outside. Banks clearly isn’t interested in being my friend, but that only makes me more determined to get him to like me. Being easy on the eyes is simply a bonus.

The floor outside my apartment creaks, which I know is from the floorboards directly in front of my door. I almost wonder if Banks is going to knock, holding my breath with anticipation as if that’ll help me hear better. But my chest deflates when I hear the steps fleeing and then the door across the hall opening and closing.

I don’t have time to be disappointed because Mom breaks me from my thought with “…your father that it’sperfectly okay if you’re exploring the dating world since you’re a grown woman now. I swear, he wants you to join a convent.”

How’d we get back to this?

“He’ll always see you as his little girl,” she continues, not realizing I tuned her out. “We both will. But we also hope that one day you’re going to meet somebody who will make you see how much life is worth living.”

Hugging my legs together, I let out a tiny breath before sitting up. “Mom…” I pause, closing my eyes and rubbing my head where an ache has settled into my temples. It’s been a long day, and my appetite was limited, which never helps the headaches I’m prone to. “Can we not do this right now?”

She grows quiet, and I feel bad for raining on her parade. But “one day”… Well, I don’t want to think about “one day.” I’d rather she not either.

For a lot of reasons.

“Okay, honey. If that’s what you want.”

Lips pressing together, I stand up and walk toward my door, where curiosity gets the better of me. Undoing the deadbolt and flicking the lock, I crack the door open to see a ten-dollar bill taped to it and a coupon for Taco Bell directly underneath.

Smiling at the unexpected gift, I yank the items down and hip-bump my door closed. “Maybe you’re right though,” I offer, staring at the coupon in my hand.

“We just want you to be happy,” Mom says softly, her voice warm and motherly.

I set the money and coupon onto the counter by my pills. “I know you do,” I answer, grabbing one of the multivitamins and toying with the label that’s peeling off it. “I am happy though. Being back here…”

They know I missed it, but they’ll never understand the yearning I felt in my soul when they told me we couldn’t go back. I loved being in North Carolina with my grandparents, and I liked New York when my parents found a new place upstate near my aunt Taylor. But nothing ever compared to Louisiana.

“Being back here is what I need,” I finish, nodding in certainty.

My eyes scan over what my neighbor left me.

I hope she understands that I’ll always need my family too, but I needthismore.

From the background, I hear Bentley yell out, “Did she find it? Ask if she found it.”

Mom laughs lightly. “Your brother wants to know if you found what he tucked into the back pocket of your carry-on.”

Brows pinching, I walk into my bedroom and dig around my closet until I find the bag he’s talking about. When I reach into the back, I hear the familiar crinkle of wrapping that’s music to my ears.

I grin when I pull out a package of my favorite chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts, and whatever sadness I felt settle into my chest a moment ago is suddenly gone. “Tell the dweeb I said thank you.”

Mom doesn’t scold me for name-calling. Instead, she looks at me with a wavering smile and says, “Try to get some sleep. You look tired, baby girl.”

And when I look at myself in the mirror as I take my wig off for the night, I realize how right she is. I touch the bags under my eyes, tracing the outlines with my fingertips and a relenting sigh, not letting my eyes wander to the patchy pieces of hair scattered along my scalp.

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