Page 91 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“I can’t believe you never told me.” I cringe at Stetson words, and continue to stare at my knee. I don’t want to see the disappointment, I can so clearly hear in her voice.
“Wasn’t exactly something I was proud of.”
“We’re best friends.” Her voice wobbles, and I hate myself more. I know what she’s saying is true—I didn’t owe it to her, but it’s the lack of trust that I know cuts her. Trust is the biggest thing with Stetson.
“We still are. I just?—”
“It’s okay.” She cuts me off, and I hear the finality in her words. She’s battling her own feelings, her own insecurities. She’s human, same as me, and we all have our own secrets.
After several awkward moments, Faith clears her throat. “So what do you want with Mateo?”
“I don’t know.” It’s true. At first I was certain we could never be more than friends. But now, I can’t imagine never having him again. I can’t imagine going back to just friends.
I don’t want that. I just don’t know how to tell him.
“I think you should fuck him at least five times before making up your mind. For science,” Stetson huffs, smiling tightly at me. I smile back, feeling my heart ache in my chest.
“Ten should be the minimum for a good experiment,” Faith states, and I snort.
“I don’t think any number would ever be enough.” I whisper.
“Oh honey—” Faith starts.
I wave her off, my skin all of a sudden feeling too tight over my bones. I know I’m fucked, and I don’t want to dwell on it anymore.
“Anywho, my mom was a miserable bitch when I finally called her.” I stare at a particular spot on the carpet, my tongue running back and forth over the salted rim of my glass. In my mind, guilt should be swarming me, having just disrespected my mother. But the words are freeing.
I’ve never spoken badly about her, even behind her back. But something inside of me cracked when she spoke about my trauma like it was something I created. Like it was something I could have prevented, if only I had been the daughter she raised, instead of the heathen I had become.
I know I’d never speak to someone I loved that way.
And that revelation has been stewing in me for days, festering like an infected wound.
A low whistle cuts through the room, and my eyes snap to Stetson’s face. I expect disgust or disappointment, but allI find is a gentle smile. And then I remember who I’m talking to—the Queen of complicated mother, daughter relationships.
I flash her a sheepish smile. “Well it’s just how I’m feeling after everything she said, about what happened to me. She all but said it was my fault, and I just can’t imagine saying that to anyone, especially someone I love.”
Stetson shakes her head, “Just because we love them, doesn’t mean we have to let them walk all over us. You deserve better. You have for as long as I’ve known you.”
“You should tell her how you feel,” Faith adds, nodding in encouragement. My chest floods with warmth, the rush of acceptance heating me from the inside out.
“What would I even say?”
“Start with what you just told us. You’d never say that to someone you love, and it hurt that she said it to you,” Faith says, her face somber now.
“Or that she can go fuck herself until she’s ready to act like a mom. If she doesn’t want to love you right, she doesn’t deserve you,” Stetson adds. Her face contorts into frustration and I know she’s saying things aloud she probably wishes she had said to her own mother.
“I don’t think my mom even knows the word fuck,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. Stetson’s eye’s instantly soften.
“Well, then, maybe use Faith’s advice. It seems the most reasonable.”
“Not that it’s ever worked for me, but your mom is surely more understanding than mine,” Faith snorts, her face in her glass. We both turn to watch her, and my heart aches with the need to comfort her.
This is what I’m good at—helping others.Not accepting help myself.
“Want to talk about your mom?” Stetson encourages, and Faith shrugs.
I can’t tell if she just doesn’t know how to open up to us, or if she’s just private like we are. Something tells me it’s the former—Faith seems like the kind of person who’s more likely to overshare, than keep a secret. Something I’m grateful for. We could all be a bit more open with our feelings.
