Page 21 of Run Game
“Ohhh,” she said on an exhale. “Not great, baby. I need a little help.”
I knew it before I had even picked up the phone, but it didn’t make the fact that she only called because she needed me to bail her out of whatever trouble she managed to get herself into any less disappointing. I didn’t even know what having a mom that called just to chat felt like, but I missed it anyway.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my voice even so she didn’t know how hurt I was. “Help with what?” I asked.
“I wrote a check for some groceries last week and it bounced,” she began. “I guess I must’ve miscalculated when I balanced my checkbook. You know how bad I am at math.” I knew she was lying. I was sure she wrote a check forsomething, but she never kept track of how much money was in the account. She didn’t care. “The bank keeps calling and threatening to take legal action if I don’t pay them.”
“How much do you need?” I said through the lump in my throat.
“With fees, the total is four-hundred and twenty-seven dollars. If I don’t have it in my account by tomorrow, they’re going to call the police.”
I knew she hadn’t spent four-hundred dollars on groceries. And I also knew she never had that much to spend, so it wasn’t just a simple mistake in her math. But I wanted to be a good daughter. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to sleep that night, fearing that the police would be knocking on her door and arresting her the next morning when I could’ve stopped it. I had just enough in the bank to cover the check she had bounced. So, I did what I always did.
“I’ll transfer it to your account tonight.”
Ever since my mom left my dad a couple of years ago, she has made all of her financial problemsmy financial problems.That wasn’t the first bad check she had written, and I doubt it was the last. Thankfully, I haven’t heard from her in a while, though. I hope that means she’s gotten her life together. As much damage as she’s done, she didn’t work alone and she’s better off without him. My dad gaslit her into thinking she was the only problem when he was just as bad. But by the time she realized it, the damage was already done.
That’s probably another reason I struggle to let Dalton help me. I’ve seen how a man can manipulate his wife into believing that the fault is all hers, ignoring that he had a large hand in their demise. That shit has obviously stuck with me, and Josh didn’t ease my worries with it at all, considering he blamed the end of our relationship on me not being worthy of a future as his wife. Maybe he was right, though. It's not like I had a good example of what a healthy marriage was as a kid.
Growing up with parents like mine was not easy. They were addicted to spending money on themselves. Not only did my mother have a shopping addiction, but my father gambled every dollar he could spare. Sometimes, even the ones he couldn’t. There were times when he’d drain their joint bank account at the casino, leaving my mom to figure out how to pay the bills. She was no better with money, though. Instead of paying the rent or utilities when she did have it, she’d spend it on designer clothes and bags. I don’t know who she thought she was fooling trying to look like she was wealthy, considering she drove an old, rusted out station wagon and moved from trailer park totrailer park every time we’d get evicted for not paying the rent.
When I was barely old enough to write my own name, they figured out that they could use me for extra cash. They signed me up for several credit cards, taking advances from the ATM to pay for their habits. To this day, I still have absolutely no idea how they did it, but by the time I turned eighteen, I had a mountain of debt that I was responsible for.
I gave up on my dream of being a professional dancer for good and got a job as a server at a local club to make money to pay for the bills my parents racked up in my name. Then, when I was twenty, my mom got busted writing bad checks again and ended up in jail. I had enough money to bail her out, but there was still the problem of restitution. She gave me a sob story about how nobody would hire a felon, and I decided I had to help her. I worked my ass off in order to pay that so she wouldn’t go back to jail, but I’m still left with all of the credit card bills that they racked up in my name. I’ve been paying them slowly, but I am nowhere near finished. I know I won’t have full freedom until I am.
All of this is part of the reason I agreed to keep my engagement ring and sell it instead of making Dalton return it. I don’t want to be rich. I just want to be able to take my paychecks, pay my bills, and have a little something left over each week. I would love to have a savings account for emergencies and maybe be able to take a vacation every once in a while. I’ve always had hopes of one day owning my own dance studio where I can teach kids the fundamentals of dancing, but at this point, that’s all just a pipe dream.
I drag the box over to my dresser, emptying thecontents of the drawers into it. Just as I finish, my phone rings with a Facetime from Mads. I haven’t talked to her, besides through text, since we arrived in Vegas, and I miss her. Plus, I’ve been packing all day and could really use a break. I scoot back, propping my back against my bed before hitting the button to answer the call.
“Oh my God, you really are alive!” she says in greeting. “I was starting to think you were murdered and your killer was texting me as a cover up.”
I roll my eyes. “So, you’ve been watching reruns of Unsolved Mysteries, then? I thought we talked about this, Madison.The bed-wetting?Remember?”
She gasps. “I haven’t wet my bed since Jenny Bronson’s birthday party in the fifth grade.”
“Well, that’s a lie,” Blaze says from somewhere off-camera with a chuckle.
Her cheeks turn red as she shoots him a glare. Like I don’t already know what a little deviant my best friend is.
“Anyway,” she says, changing the subject. “What’s been going on? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”
Shitballs.
I don’t want to lie to her, so I need to dance around her question. I just don’t think it’s smart to tell her everything that has been going on with Dalton. Mads is a romantic. She thinks that everyone has their one true love roaming around in this great big world and that fate always brings them together. I remember how she had her whole wedding planned out on a poster board in her room before she was even old enough to ride a bike. And now, she’s living her love story with Blaze.
But that’s not for me. There is no soulmate out there waiting to find me. And I’m not saying I won’t have a happy life. Because I truly believe that once I pay off myparents’ debts and can start living the life I’ve been working for, I’ll be completely fulfilled. But it won’t be with my one true love. I’ll be doing it all on my own. And that’s okay.
“Not much,” I answer. “I’m just in my room, organizing clothes.”Not a complete lie. Technically I am organizing clothes…before putting them into a box.
“What?” she says, perplexed. “Why?”
“Just wanted to make sure everything still fits.”
Just then, a loud noise from outside startles me, making my phone slip from my hand. I grab it off the floor, not thinking as I stand and sit on the bed.
Mads squints as she takes in what she’s seeing. “Are thosemoving boxesbehind you?”
Fuck. Fuck.Fuuuuuuuck.
