Page 31 of Here's to Now

I mentally roll my eyes. “Everyone’s always out for free food.”

“Yep,” he says. “But listen, Gaige, it’s going to be fine. You’ll take ’em to the show, maybe get an ice cream on the way home, and that’ll be it. Don’t try to overthink it or stress yourself out. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be. Just be you. Besides, no matter how sick that old bat is, Mercy will be able to see through any bullshit you try to throw her way.”

I chuckle, and before I can say anything, he continues.

“If I don’t tell you enough, I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way these past few years. You have a stable job, and even though it’s a questionable place, you have a roof over your head. You haven’t been in trouble in years either. You’re doing good. Just keep on keepin’ on.”

Proud. He’s proud of me.

A clog of emotions tightens my chest. When I was younger, I spent most of my time alone in my room. My parents weren’t around much. They were just sixteen when I came squalling into the world, so they were nowhere near ready to be a mom and dad, and it showed. The parties, the binge drinking, the inability to get me to school on time. Responsibility and my wellbeing were not the first things on their priority list—well, not for the first ten years of my life, anyway.

Before Gia came along when I was on the tail end of ten, whenever I spent time with either parent, it was awkward. Stilted. Even at a young age I knew that wasn’t how a parent should love a child. Neither one of them showed me any affection. I can count the number of times my mom hugged me the first ten years of my life on one hand. My father? Never. Not once.

Now, this isn’t me whining about it. It’s simply the truth, and it is what it is. I had a shitty childhood, and I let it shape me into a shitty adult.

It’s no surprise I’m blinking back tears right now. Hearinganyonesay they’re proud of me…Fuck.If there were an ocean in front of me in this moment, I’d swim it coast to fucking coast, sharks and all. Put a mountain in front me, I’d scale it. It’s amazing how four words can make you feel, how they can lift you to new heights.

It takes me two tries to clear my throat enough to speak. “Thanks, Harold. That means a lot.”

He knows. He knows better than anyone how everything was. He tried his hardest back then to make up for what I lacked in my home life, but the damage was done. Like I said before, he’s the best thing to come from all that crap.

“I mean it, kid.”

“I know,” I tell him seriously.

I do know, and it feels damn good.

Me: You busy tonight?

Nikki: That’s my line.

Me: I’ll take that as a no. Want to hang out?

Nikki: If “hang out” isn’t code for sex, yes.

Smiling, I shake my head at her quick retort. Honestly, the furthest thing from my mind this second is sex. Right now I want to chill with someone that makes me feel…like me. Someone who has no expectations. I’m going to need that before tomorrow. Abandoning my plans to go to Clyde’s because I’d like to keep this natural high I have going, and instead of hanging out in my hellhole apartment, I decide spending time with Haley is the best way to go about it, especially since I just came home to find my roommates already drunk. I could hear them loud and clear like they were in the bathroom during the shower I just took.

Me: It’s not a code for sex.

Nikki: Great. You coming over now?

Me: If that’s okay?

Nikki: It’s only okay if you bring food. I’m starving and too lazy to cook dinner.

Me: I can do that. Any requests?

Nikki: Something delicious. Surprise me. I trust you.

That same startled feeling from before hits me again.Trust.It’s such a fragile word. Hell, it’s a fragile thing. I vow to not break it this time.

Me: Give me an hour.

I quickly throw the lock on my bedroom door and strip my towel from around my waist. I dress hastily, thumbing the keyboard on my phone screen, dialing the number to a local Italian restaurant. I place an order for a few different types of pasta, some breadsticks, and a salad. I have no idea what Haley likes, so I’m sure I’ve gone overboard on how much I’ve ordered, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I don’t even blink when I’m told my total. I hardly ever spend any money on myself; it always feels wrong, especially when I have my siblings to take care of. This time, though, it feels good. I refuse to apologize for feeling good.

I slip on my shoes and check my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. Figuring I look good enough, wet hair and all, I quickly make my way out to my car, ignoring the shouts from my roommates to wait.

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