Page 66 of Love Bank
“If you love me at all, let me go. I need to think and I can’t do that here.”
Her words hung there like sharp little weapons, breaking my heart and sweeping away my argument. There was no doubt I loved her and therefore would abide by her request. I shifted to the side and inhaled sharply as she sailed past me and out the front door. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I grabbed the first thing I saw, a lamp I’d only just taken out of a box a few weeks ago, heaving it as hard as I could. It hit the wall, leaving a dent and sliding down to the floor, as broken as I felt.
I thought I moved to Auburn Hill.
Turns out I moved to Hell.
25
Lucille
The rest of the day passed in a blur. My house, once familiar and safe, became a prison of my own making. I locked all the doors and threw myself onto my bed. I couldn’t get that woman out of my mind, so beautiful and young, or the way Bain treated her so nonchalantly. Yes, he finally acknowledged the baby’s existence, and he claimed the baby wasn’t his, but Addi seemed so confident. So sure Bain was the father.
I should have asked more questions. I should have learned more about his past before he moved to Auburn Hill. I should have trusted my mom and never let him in my heart.
I pulled the covers up over my head, hoping maybe they would work the way they did as a child. Invariably, Mom would be on the phone with a friend or watching television at night, and the bad dreams would come to me all alone in my room. Nothing like a well-sealed comforter around me and over my head to make me invisible to evil monsters.
My phone pinged on the bedside table, several times in a row. I ignored it, thinking it was probably Bain, attempting to convince me everything was fine. The hot tears that wouldn’t stop said something different. My hair stuck to my wet cheeks and sweaty neck. It sure seemed a lot warmer buried under the covers now than when I was a child.
When I couldn’t breathe the hot air any longer in my little bed bubble, I pulled them down below my chin and assessed my room. Pictures of Mom, Lavender, and me on the old wood dresser sat smiling at me where they always were. My clothes from earlier in the week were washed and folded on my chair, ready to be hung in the closet or put away in my drawers. Sun streamed through the big window, cutting through the gauzy drapes and declaring today a bright, sunny day.
Everything was as it normally should be, yet everything had changed.
A lead weight had taken up residence in my stomach. While that would normally be a sad situation indeed, it didn’t compare to the ripping of my heart right out of my chest. The pain was sharp and insistent, taking all of my focus. I breathed in and out, wondering when my lungs would simply give up and I’d die of this pain.
In the back of my head, I knew I was simply being dramatic, but I gave into it anyway. I’d only had one boyfriend in my entire thirty-six years, and the day after I told him I loved him, his ex-whatever-she-was had shown up on the doorstep pregnant. I was allowed to wallow a bit.
When the tears seemed to subside, I sat up a bit straighter, leaning against the headboard and brushing the hair back from my face. My heart and lungs, while severely damaged, continued to function, so I dared to reach over and pick up my phone.
It hadn’t been Bain; it was two missed calls from Mom.
Before I could turn my phone off, she called a third time. As tempted as I was to ignore her again, I knew she wouldn’t quit. Last time I ignored her, she’d come all the way home.
“Hey, Mom.” I pumped as much enthusiasm into my voice as possible. Survival meant acting like everything was fine. Unfortunately, my voice came out as nasally as Fran Drescher.
“Lucille! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. How are you?”
Heat hit the back of my eyes and I swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay. Clearing my throat, I answered, “Doing great, Mom. How about you?”
She did that clucking noise that used to irritate me as a kid, but now it reminded me of a simpler time. When a man hadn’t broken my heart.
“Lucille,” she said in a low voice. “It’s time to cut the crap. I know you’re dating that warden.”
Time stood still. Absolutely nothing was making sense today.
“I may not be there physically, but I have my ear to the ground. I know you’re head over ass in love with that boy and I couldn’t be happier for you.”
I blinked rapidly, the ache in my chest ramping up at the realization that I finally had her support when it didn’t matter anymore.
“Mom. It doesn’t matter. He and I—”
“Of course it matters! I know I’ve been hard on you, Lucille. I’ve pushed my opinion about men on you since before you were born.” She sniffed. “I think it’s fact more than opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. What I want you to know is that if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
It was no use. My face crumpled and I cried silent tears into the phone. This was too much. The day my mother finally understood me was the day I understood her. Men were assholes. She’d been right.
“Lucille? Dear, are you crying?” Mom sounded distressed.
Tears weren’t a normal thing in our household. Tears were for the weak.
