Page 31 of Collision
“Well, we never really talked about it. I was a little girl when it happened, but I’d like to know more about it now.”
“I think it’s better not to dredge up the past,” she responds with her usual aplomb. Then she looks at me, suddenly alarmed. “Everything is okay with Travis, right?” Her insinuation catches me off guard. Flustered, I start tapping my fingers nervously on the rim of my glass. She would flip out if I told her the truth.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I lie, having no other choice. She releases a breath, relieved.
“I wanted to talk to you too, actually,” she continues, crossing her arms on the table. I brace myself for the worst. “Things have been going really well with Victor, you know. We’ve been dating for a few months now, and I’d like for you to meet him. Officially, I mean. Maybe at a family dinner?”
Stop. What? No. Absolutely not.
“Don’t make that face,” she rebukes me. “I haven’t felt this way—so happy and full of excitement—in years, and it’s all because of him,” she harangues. “It would mean a lot to me,” she insists, stretching her arms across the table to take my hands in hers.
“Mom, you know I hate these things,” I whine.
“Please, Vanessa, can you do this for me? To make your mother happy?”
I sigh resignedly. Damn her and damn me for being incapable of saying “no.” “Fine, Mom. Plan a dinner.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. How about Friday?” she chirps impatiently.
“No, Friday is the game, and right after, we’re going to a party,” I unenthusiastically explain to her.
“Where? And since when do you go to parties?” she inquires with an arched brow.
“It will be at Tiffany’s friend’s house. And I go to parties. Rarely. But I do go,” I clarify.
“Is Travis going with you?”
I blink, puzzled. “Of course, Mom.”
“That’s okay, then. I trust him.” She raises her hands in surrender. “Could we do Saturday?” she suggests.
“Saturday is fine,” I concede with a smile.
“Marvelous!”
We clear the table together and load the dishwasher. Mom invites me to go into the living room with her to watch some TV, but I’m not in the mood. Today has exhausted me. So much has happened that I haven’t even had the time to process it all—I just want to sleep and not think.
In my room, I let myself fall into bed. Closing my eyes, I plumb the abyss of my thoughts, searching for a shred of sense. The sense that I have never lacked, until the moment I chose to approach the one person I should have kept far away from.
***
After a night of restless dreams, I wake up, still a little fuzzy-headed, before the alarm clock goes off. A true rarity. I go down to the kitchen to eat breakfast and find a note under a magnet on the refrigerator. It’s from Mom, apologizing because she had to run off to work. I crumple it up and throw it in the garbage. There really isn’t much in the refrigerator, but I manage to find two eggs and an almost empty carton of orange juice. I make a mental note to get groceries as soon as possible.
After making breakfast and cleaning up, I go up to my room to get dressed. I decide on a pair of black, high-waisted jeans that are a little more snug than usual. I pair them with a lightweight purple sweater that I tuck in to the waistband before spritzing my favorite perfume on my wrists and neck. For the first time since the semester began, I pull the straightener through my hair and apply light eye makeup. Today, I feel the need to boost my low self-esteem.
Before I go downstairs, I peek out the window to see whether Travis has arrived. His truck is parked in the driveway, and he’s waiting for me, leaning up against the front end. I can tell from the frown on hisface that he’s still resentful about the night before.
I pull on my black leather over-the-knee boots and check out my backside in the mirror. I notice that the jeans showcase it a little too much, so I grab a long cardigan and wear it over my sweater. Now I’m ready to go. I walk toward Travis slowly and, when I finally reach him, he smiles at me, banishing the specter of resentment from his face.
“Hel—”
He doesn’t give me a chance to finish but instead wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me passionately, leaving me stunned. So he’s not mad anymore?
“You look beautiful this morning.” He gestures for me to do a spin. “What’s different about you?”
“Nothing!” I squeak, blushing.
“I missed you last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.
