Page 52 of The Breaking Pointe
“You never know.People can be good at fronting,” I reply, standing on my word.
“Right,” she huffs, “well while you try to figure out if heis or isn’t fronting, make sure you don’t wait too long for yourchance.”Shesmilessweetlybeforewalkingoverto a customer.The fact of the matter is that if this man does reach out, I’d have no idea what to say. I don’t have words for someone who consciously is putting efforts forward to pleaseme.Notthatthat’shisdirectplan.Butifitwere,
I wouldn’t stop him.To my knowledge, he has all the credentials.That’s what makes this entire thing so hardfor me. I feel crappy for hooking up, but knowing it isn’t a commitment is the only rope I have to hold onto that makes it okay for me.As for committing to something for real? He’d never stand a chance because I’m too worried about whether I can trust again.He’ll get exhausted of chasing me and move on, if I’m lucky. He’ll be saving himself from my constant worry, and I’ll hopefully rid him from my brain after a few months.
I’m almost positive it’ll take a wing and a prayer to convince me that he’s worth trusting—and that goes for any man.
13
stuck in time
COLTON
When I’m not eating a meal at my mother’s, she’ll have another distinct reason that she’ll call me.It could be picking up some groceries or a smaller task—the sanest excuse she can whip up.That is, if I’m not there just to exist in her presence.
This time, I’m here to try and fix a pipe underneath her sink. For the fourth or maybe even fifth time this year.If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have any knowledge of what I’m doing, since I never have to do this for anyone.I also refuse topay some guy to sit on her floor with his ass-crack out fora few hours. It’s taken me a few hours now myself, but my guess is that she can’t refrain from letting random objects fall down the drain. Something I’ve stressed to her, harder than anything else I might comment about.
However,Idon’tmindhelpingheratall.It’snotlikeI
have anything else I need to be doing.
But recently, she’s been so needy for me to be around that it’s a little concerning.
Her favorite complaints are always that I work too much, I won’t settle down.Or she’ll get really personal and tell me that I need to take my artistry more seriously or commit to boxing like I mean it.Otherwise, I’m going to live with regrets, and she would rather me have a life filled with butterflies and rainbows. I’m waiting for her to realize that mybrainhasbeenrewiringitselfforyears.Ihaven’tfelt a perky bone in my body in forever, and my mental hasn’t seen the light of day since I was a kid. The last time I had a genuine smile was—well, Noelle, really.That’s more like the first time in forever.
I can manage with my mother being overbearing about anything she wants, as long as it doesn’t compare me to my father.It’s a line I’ve drawn a million times, yet my other familymembersstillfindawaytobringitup.Whether it be my hair, my build, or my career, I don’t wanna be compared to someone who valued a certain way of living over his time with his family. Then ended it all in front of the one who looked up to him the most. I’ll never be convinced that someone is as amazing as I believed he was ever again. Without the skills and forgiveness, he left my mom and me with so many issues.So many she could never get with a man afterward.
In the beginning, I thought she hated the idea of me box- ing, only because she worries I might develop an addiction just like him. Doesn’t have to be painkillers or steroids. But inmycase,somethingelse.Thethingthat’lltakemeout is my depressive episodes and manic breakdowns.Which
may be hard to believe for her, but I’ve had every option to try everything under the sun when Trey isn’t around. I’ve declined every last thing.
Alcohol might be my only deal breaker. When things get tough, I might have a drink.But when I have a drink, I get emotional. You can probably guess what happens next, so beer is the best to go to.All in all, I hate the way it makes me feel.It’s the aftermath that always has me so torn.It took me almost two days to recover just from downing a few glasses of wine with Noelle, that I stupidly topped off with a bunch of beer. I’m glad she was thrilled enough to do most of the damage. The Canadian one was almost so sweet I could throw up.
“Colton, I’m talking to you,” my mom says, interrupting my thoughts from above the sink.
“What’s up?Sorry.”I peek out at her.
“What’s got you so distracted?You’ve barely said any- thing to me since you got here.” She laughs.
I use the wrench I had in my hand to tighten one last bolt before scooting from underneath the sink, looking up at my mom.The only time she can ever get close to being taller than me.
“It’s nothing.I just had a weird couple of days, that’s all,” I state, shrugging as I lift myself from the floor.
“Well, what does this weird couple of days involve?” “Mom, it’s nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow, examining me for a moment before sending me a collusive smile. She then taps her finger on my neck, pressing against a minuscule bruise that Noelle had gifted me.
“What?Don’tlookatmelikethat.Whyareyoudoing
that?” I furrow my eyebrows, looking back at her as I cover my neck with one hand.
“Who is she?”
“Okay, no—we’re not doing this.”I put my hands up, laughing.
She’s never scared to get straight to the point.
My mom is the kind of parent who always wants to know everything. Who the woman is, what she does—even down to if I wanna marry her.The answer is usually me saying no in multiple styles, just so she can stop talking about it. This time I truly had no answer. Noelle had left me on read, ignored several of my calls, and basically ghosted me in a matter of two weeks.
