Page 53 of Until We're More
No. Liam doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.
Which means he probably would’ve kissed me by now if he wanted to.
Shit. I’m going to be prancing around in a ridiculously small outfit tonight for nothing.
Maybe I’ll at least get some numbers out of it. If I can’t have who I want, maybe I should just get the virgin thing out of the way. Then there won’t be so much pressure on whoever I date next.
Even as I thought it, I couldn’t get myself to believe it.
I gritted my teeth, resolving to focus on one problem at a time. “What did you need, Mom?”
“Aren’t you going to sit down?”
Several memories hit me as I perched on the end of the couch. Scrubbing the always messy house, doing laundry, running errands, making dinners. How my mom once bought me a dress for my birthday, then, after I’d worn it to school one time, told me it would also be for Christmas, since she couldn’t afford anything else that year, so not to wear it again until after the holiday.
Don’t get me wrong, I understood going without. I just didn’t understand why she could afford her soda habit and every cable channel ever. The house had really gone downhill since I wasn’t around to maintain it, and I had another moment of doubt about crossing lines with Liam. If it went wrong, I’d end up having to spend the rest of my time here at the house, and I didn’t think I could stay for more than a day or two without suffocating.
“I’m starting up a new business,” Mom said.
My stomach sank. She’d sold an array of stuff throughout the years. Not enough to make any actual money, but there wasn’t a pyramid scheme she didn’t fall for. “Remember how we talked about choosing better things to invest time and money into?”
“This is jewelry. People love jewelry.”
“Don’t you have to host parties?”
“What? Our place isn’t good enough for you anymore?”
“I meant…” Well, I’d partially meant that the place was a mess and nowhere near a good hosting situation. The exterior, which used to be the nicest feature of the house, was showing signs of neglect, and it still looked amazing compared to the inside. One interesting thing about San Diego was that you could have a crumbling small house next to a much bigger, much fancier place (like the Roths’). I could handle small; it was letting go of cleaning and upkeep that was the main problem. But that was far from my only worry. “Parties are a lot of work, Mom.”
“I just need your help with the first one, then we’ll get other people to host. And before I have the party, I do need to invest in some items so I have stock on hand.”
Here it came. Asking for money, combined with a guilt trip. I mentally buckled my seat belt for the inevitably bumpy ride.
“Remember how when you wanted to go to college, we helped you?”
No, I wanted to say. I remember you telling me that I needed to work my ass off and get scholarships, which I’d done.I’d had to live at home to save money, and that was the help she meant. Basic care for your child. Sometimes I wished I would’ve gone into debt just so I didn’t feel so obligated. But the truth was, she was my mom, so I’d feel obligated anyway.
Mom put on her poor, woe-is-me expression and added a heavy sigh. “I picked up the slack around the house, even though you were still living here.”
“I remember.” No point in arguing that I’d still cooked and cleaned as much as possible between classes and my part-time job as a cashier at the gas station down the street. I mentally did the math of how much I had in my bank account, minus what I’d need to pay my rent in Denver and the ridiculously small amount Liam would allow me to pay for rent here. I had extra gas to worry about on the way to Colorado, too, and I couldn’t count on extra money from the promotion until I landed it, although man did I need to land it. “I can give you fifty dollars.”
“This jewelry is nice, not plastic costume jewelry. I need at least a hundred. Two would be better.”
Be strong, be strong.
“It’s the last time I’ll ask you for money, I swear. Jesse won’t help me out, even though I explained this is different than the perfume.”
Oh, hell. I’d somehow blanked out the year of the perfume. We’d had all these knockoff scents in the house, ones that smelled as cheap as they were, and she’d asked me to hawk bottles at school. A few times I’d brought home twenty bucks and just pretended to have sold a bottle.
“A hundred is all I can do.” It was more than I should do. When I envisioned helping out, it was for things like groceries, utilities, and other necessities. Mom didn’t have the entrepreneur work ethic, so this was the equivalent of flushing money right down the drain.
“And you’ll host it? Next weekend, which barely gives me time to order supplies.”
“I won’t host, but I’ll help.”
“Okay. I’ll text you who I want to invite.”
If I waited for a thank-you, I’d be waiting forever. As soon as I wrote Mom a check, she turned up the TV. This was bonding time as far as she was concerned, and if I left, I’d get another guilt trip.
