Page 147 of Collision
“No, Vanessa. I wouldn’t dream of it. But I heard some noises coming from the porch and I was alarmed, so I came to check that everything was all right.”
“There was no need for you to be alarmed. Corvallis is a quiet town. The only criminals we have here are kids who like to play ding dong ditch,” I explain.
He shrugs and takes a sip from his cup. “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In any case, don’t you think it’s pretty disrespectful the way you continue to defy your mother’s authority?”
“I think that it’s none of your business,” I say defensively.
He looks down at the cup in his hands. “Yes, you’re right.” Then he brings his attention back to me. “But very soon it will become my business.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know?” he asks, surprised. Slowly, I shake my head no. A confused and apologetic expression crosses his face. “Oh, I thought she told you.”
“Told me what?”
“In a few weeks, I’ll be moving in.”
I can almost feel my stomach tying itself into knots. “What?”
“Vanessa, I apologize.” He moves as though he’s going to approach me and lay a hand on my shoulder, but I stretch out an arm to stop him.
“I was sure your mother had already told you about it.”
Now I’m wondering how long ago my mother made this decision without my knowledge, and when exactly she planned to tell me. Maybe the day before he moved in? Or maybe the day itself!
“You know, things have been going so well between us, and we talked about it—”
I interrupt him: “No.”
“What did you say?”
“I said no. You are not going to live here. This is my house. My father’s house. The house where he raised me. If your need to live together is so strong that you can’t do without it, then go ahead and move in together but do it somewhere else.” I push past him, glaring and leave him standing there astonished behind me.
How could my mother allow another man to come into our house and live there without even consulting me beforehand? I mean, does my opinion matter so little to her?
I take off my boots and leave them beside the door. I slip off the cardigan and lay it on the end of the bed. I sit down at my desk, turn on the lamp and take out my books and notes from philosophy. I intend to study as much as I can, although I’m finding it pretty difficult. My head is filled with all these conflicting emotions about everything that has happened tonight.
A few hours later, my eyes are burning from concentration and I have to throw in the towel. When I look at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside me, I realize that it is five o’clock in the morning. I open my eyes wide and rest my forehead on the desk, cursing myself under my breath. In less than four hours, I have to be on campus. Damn me for forgetting this stupid test! I turn off the light and curl up in my bed.
Thirty-Nine
The alarm clock blares. I ignore it and continue sleeping. It goes off again and, grumbling, I press snooze again. I bury my head beneath the pillow, having zero desire to get out of this bed.
“Vanessa?” My mother’s dull voice echoes in my ears. “Vanessa, you need to get up or you’ll be late. It’s already half past seven,” she shouts, knocking on the door. Shit, she’s right. Though it takes all the willpower I have, I open my eyes and get out of bed. I put on my bathrobe and drag myself to the door. When I open it, I find my mother leaning against the doorframe with a guilty look on her face.
“We need to talk.” Victor must have told her about our little conversation last night. I can’t think of any other reason for her full transformation into this helpless little lamb.
“Yes, we do.” Yawn. “But not now. I have to leave now,” I tell her in a voice both annoyed and sleepy.
“Vanessa, I was going to tell you, it’s just that…” I brush past her, ignoring her completely, but she runs right after me as though nothing is wrong. “You seemed so busy lately, you know, with college, the breakup with Travis, the new job… I didn’t want to give you something else to worry about.”
I grin sardonically and turn back to her. “That’s the official version, Mom. The unofficial version is that, as always, you made a decision without me because you think that any thought or feeling that doesn’tcome directly from you is superfluous. Yesterday, you threatened to take everything away from me, and then I immediately find out that Victor is moving in. You know what? I would rather live on the street than inside a house with two complete strangers. So if you want to kick me out, just know that you’ll be doing me a favor.” I lock myself in the bathroom after slamming the door behind me.
After taking a shower, I decide to put on jean overalls with a yellow sweater. I roll up the hems a bit and slip on my Converse shoes. I do my hair up in a long side braid and put just a touch of mascara on. When I go down to the kitchen to get breakfast, I find my mother intensely focused on squeezing orange juice and Victor standing at the stove as he pours the last drops of coffee into his cup. Great.
When he notices my presence—and probably the smoke coming out of my ears—he gasps in embarrassment.
“For your information, you are not the only person who likes to drink coffee first thing in the morning.” I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and leave the house without saying goodbye to anyone.
