Page 102 of Hate You, Maybe
“Sayla.” She clucks. “What happened, baby?”
“You don’t really care.”
“Of course I care,” she says. “You’re my daughter.”
An ache spreads through my body, and I can’t help wishing she were here with me. As messed up as we were, as much as her choices hurt, she’s still my mother. “Dexter happened.”
My eyes well up.
“I don’t know what that means. Did this Dexter person do something to you?”
“Yes.” I sniffle. “He gave me forehead kisses. And a scalp massage. And he put Band-Aids on my blisters. And he made me have … hope.” I end on a gulping sob.
“Aww. What were you hoping for, baby?”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Everything,” I wail, and Madelyn drops a napkin dispenser in front of me. Setting down my phone, I snatch some to swipe at my runny nose. As I try to gather myself, Madelyn pushes the water glass over to me. “You’re allowed to cry, you know,” she offers gently.
“Dex’s family chooses happiness,” I choke out. “They even have a sign.”
“I’m sure that works for some people, sometimes. Other times, the sad just chooses you. And you just have to go with it.” Madelyn eyes me patiently as I mop at my tear-soaked face.
“You’re so nice.”
“I’ve been working here a long time.” She hitches her shoulders. “I’ve pretty much heard it all. Seen a lot of tears.”
This is probably true, but blubbering is the exact opposite of what I came to Tequila Mockingbird to do. I came here to forget.
First things first—or fourth things fourth—I need to get rid of my mom. The fact that she’s found her happily ever after only makes my heart hurt worse. Not that I want her to be miserable. I just don’t want to be the only one who is. I tried so hard to be different from her. To make better choices. And I still ended up alone.
“Sayla? Baby?” she calls out.
I look down at my phone, still on the bar. “Yeah.”
“Are you there? I can't hear you.”
I pick the phone back up. “I’m here, but I’d better go now. I’ve got my glass of wine to finish. And the next trivia game will start soon. So I’ll be all right. Good old Sayla is back in the game. Competing to win. Coming in second place, but that’s okay. I’m used to being second. To everyone. All the time.”
“Sayla.”
“Good luck with all the compromise, Mom,” I chirp. “I’m sure you and Eugene have a lot more cooperating and collaborating to get to.” I take a beat. “Wait. That sounded kind of dirty. Did that sound dirty? I didn’t mean it dirty.”
“Sayla.” She sounds stern now. “Hand the phone to the bartender now.”
I squint. “You want me to give my phone to Madelyn?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m your mother and I said so.”
“Fine.” I hold my phone out to Madelyn, scrunching up my nose in apology. “My mom wants to talk to you.”
Madelyn shakes her head, but she takes the phone anyway, then she turns away from me. So I lean forward over the bar trying to listen in on her conversation, and end up knocking over what’s left of my water.
“Sorry!”
Madelyn spins around and flashes me a look while I fumble for more napkins. I try to mop up the puddle, but water dribbles down both sides of the bar onto the floor.
