Page 43 of Revolve
I focus diligently on myhelva. “Not really. But this tastes great, Mom.”
She tosses the Dalton letter in front of my bowl. Just when I think she’s going to be angry, she places her hand over mine. “You can talk to me,kuzum. I’m not mad. But I need to know you’re okay.”
The warmth of her voice and her eyes takes me back to a time when she’d comfort me when I lost a scrimmage or got detention. She was always there; my dad wasn’t.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really. It was a mistake, but I’m fixing it now.”
From the look on her face, I can tell she’s worried, but she doesn’t press. She tells me how Ada calls her every day. Unlike me. But the more she talks, the more I stare at the clock. Each bite ofhelvagrows bitter, the longer we wait for any sign of my dad joining us. When she mentions missing the garden at our old house, I can’t take it anymore.
My chair scrapes against the polished floor, interrupting her as she reminisces about the day my dad surprised her with the greenhouse.
She stares at the half-eatenhelva. “Ne oldu?You don’t like it?”
“I have to go.” I reach for my car keys on the counter. “I have a lot to study.”
“But your baba—”
“Dad’s not coming. And judging by the depressing echo in this apartment, he hasn’t been home in a while.” My voice cracks, the frustration spilling out.
She rushes after me. “That’s not true. He’s just late. He wants to apologize for how we sprung the vow renewal on you. He wants you to understand where he’s coming from.”
“I’m not the one he should be apologizing to.” I itch to leave. It’slike the secrets embedded in these walls mock me. “I begged you to leave him, Mom. When you said you would, I believed you. I believed you were finally standing up for yourself—because we both know what happens when I do it. So, forgive me if that phone call about your vow renewal wasn’t the good news I was expecting.”
Last year, I applied for apartments. Kilner even got me a job at Porter’s by talking to the bar manager, who agreed to let me work even though I was underage. I covered all the bases even though my mom would likely be well-off with half of my dad’s fortune. But I didn’t want her to go through the process of a long divorce just because of money. In my mind, it was simple: She’d leave him and be happy again. What more could she want?
“He’s changed,” she insists, her voice trembling.
I shake my head. “You may not deserve the things I’m saying to you, Mom, but you sure as hell don’t deserve what he’s doing either. Don’t make me feel like the bad guy for being the only person in your life who’s telling you the truth.”
Normally, I would have beaten myself up over making her cry, but I let all that go the moment she chose him. Again. I’m done trying to fix something that’s never been whole.
She moves in front of the elevator. “Stay. You haven’t been home in ages.”
“Neither have you.”
I slip into the elevator, and I hear the faint whisper ofseni seviyorum—I love you—before the doors close, and I drive back to the only place that’s the closest to home that I’ll ever be.
TURNS OUT, Idid some substantial damage at the hardware store. I realized it only when I unloaded the stuff from my car after getting back from my parents’ apartment. Two buckets of paint, every brush the sales associate claimed I’d need, a bedside table, a desk, and a plant that’s already wilting.
I’ve already painted half my room when my phone rings.MOMflashes on screen.
It’s late, and she’s still up. The thought only makes me feel worse for saying those things to her. I should have let it go. Should have pretended like it didn’t affect me. Sometimes I think my mom only stayed with my dad to prove me wrong. That if I hadn’t voiced what a piece of shit he was, that she would’ve left on her own. I prolonged it. The deeper your dig, the more likely you are to bust a water line.
“Jesus, open a window!” Kian barges into my room. I shove my phone back in my pocket just as he opens the window to stick his head out, sucking in air like he’s suffocating.
“I have the fan on, relax.” I use the back of my hand to wipe the paint off my cheek. All my old shit is out in the hall, including my bed, because I ordered a new one. The only memories I’ve made in this room were ones that lasted a single night. In my bed, against the wall, on my desk—it all felt tainted with the person I used to be and people I don’t know.
“How do you have energy for this after skating?”
I shrug. “Ever since Kilner punished us that entire season after you streaked across campus, I’ve been prepared for anything.”
“That’s your bar for endurance? He made me do everyone’s dirty laundry full of jock straps last season. Sometimes, I can still smell the stench.” He shudders.
“Think you need to unpack that trauma with a professional, Ishida.”
Kian flips me off. “So, you never told me why we lugged two paint cans and all that furniture. And why is it baby blue like a nursery?”
I look at the lid on the bucket. “Actually, it’s called Caribbean Mist.”
