Page 64 of Lost Boy
“Mom. Stop. Don’t do this. Please.”
“Do what? Honey, I’m only stating the truth.”
Ryder’s mom pushes past us. Her rude and brash behavior reminds me of my own mother, currently locked up in Philly.
“She never used to be like that,” he says quietly when she disappears into the house that’s not even hers anymore. “I need to call my dad. Warn him that she just showed up again.”
“She does this a lot?”
“No. And that’s part of the problem.” Ryder’s whisper gets even quieter. “I’ll tell you more later, but she left town when Dad came out. By herself. Sometimes we don’t even see her for a whole year, but then she’ll just show up out of the blue. And she’s always rude. Even to Sofie, but I’m not sure Sofie even sees it. Mom takes it out on us even more than my dad.”
That’s really messed up.
“What she said about your uncle isn’t true, by the way. Joel and my dad hadn’t even met when he decided to live his truth and tell her he wanted a divorce. She just has it in her head now.” He sighs deeply before pressing the phone to his ear.
“Dad. Hey. Yeah, everything’s fine. I know I never call. Yes, I know I could text, but it’s urgent.”
Ryder pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, taking a big breath before firing off a string of perfectly fluent Spanish.
Oh. Holy shit.
That was hot.
I shouldn’t be surprised. And yet I just wasn't expecting it.
Ryder’s eyes pop open and lock onto mine. I can hear his dad through the phone speaking rapidly, urgently. Ry says something else, sounding a little angry and a lot sexy. I chew on my lip ring, and his eyes zero in on it, darkening further.
Ryder switches back to English. “Just prepare Sofie the best you can, Dad.” He ends the call, stuffing it back in his basketball shorts. He pulls off his backward Acadia Lake Baseball cap and rubs a hand through his curly hair. “This is fucked up and the last thing I want to deal with on the day I start dating my boyfriend.”
“It’s okay, Ry,” I tell him. “You can talk to me later. Vent. Whatever you need.” There’s nothing left for us to do in the foyer, so I follow Ryder as he stalks toward the kitchen in search of his mother. And probably a snack too.
Ryder’s mom is sitting at the white marble island veined in gold—ostentatious-as-fuck and probably chosen by her.
Looks nice, though.
Penelope thumbs through aTeen Voguemagazine on the counter, sipping a glass of red wine and looking very at home somewhere that’s actuallynot.
“Sofie will be home in an hour. I have that time frame to convince you to leave. You can’t just show up when you want. It always causes a setback for her.” He leans a hip against the counter, arms crossed tightly. Defensively.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. My daughter wants to see me, even if my son doesn’t.” She purses her lips, flipping her curly hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah. She does want to see you. More than once a year. You aren’t around to deal with the aftermath when you leave. It wrecks her. You can’t come and go from Sofie’s life. Either stay or leave for good. You can’t keep doing this.”
“Don’t tell me not to see my own children, Ryder.” She takes a sip of wine, continuing to flip the magazine pages.
A vein in his temple pulses, and his nostrils flare slightly. He’s irritated and rightfully so. Ryder storms into the pantry, grabbing a bag of salt and vinegar chips and making loud rustling noises as he opens it as obnoxiously as possible. He shoves his hand in to grab a massive handful before cramming said handful into his mouth and crunching loudly as he stalks toward the exit.
I’m a silent observer. A witness to the awkward encounter between my boyfriend and hismom.
“Don’t make a mess!” Penelope shouts.
“Not your house!” Ry counters, and I feel so uncomfortable standing here, trapped in her gaze like a moth to the flame. I should fly away because following the light only leads to getting burned.
“Do you not talk,little boy?”
Jesus. She’s nasty. Nothing like sweet Sofie or my kind, loyal boyfriend. He said she wasn’t always like this, and I can relate to that. Sometimes people change, and it’s not always for the better. My own mother is sadly a testament to that.
I don’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. Ryder quickly returns, circling his massive hand around my wrist and tugging. Her bright eyes dart down, but she doesn’t comment, and we slip away successfully.
