Page 81 of Crash and Burn
"That would be wonderful," my mother talked over me.
I pursed my lips and turned my eyes back down to my plate. I didn't know why I even bothered.
"Don't look so sour," my mother admonished. "If you just did what I'm suggesting you wouldn't have to work at—" she wrinkled her nose. "—thatplaceanymore."
"I'm happy where I am," I said.
"Are you?" my mother pressed. "Really? Serving drunk people all night, mopping floors of vomit and who knows what else..." She gave a shudder and put a hand to her chest, as if feeling faint.
I scowled at her dramatic display.
"Even Grant has his photography business," my mother continued.
A sharp stabbing sensation hit my chest.
It was true that, considering everything going on with Grant, I had half-way begun to wonder how much longer I'd want to stay at Sin and Tonic.
"I don't want to talk about Grant," I said quickly. "This is about me and my life. And I'm fine where I am."
My mother pursed her lips but finally gave up for the night, and the conversation turned to more pleasant things.
I knew my mother meant well, but she could be overbearing when she thought she knew what was best for me. If she had known my gap-year was going to turn into a years-long furlough, I had no doubt she would have resisted that idea, too.
But she hadn’t been entirely incorrect. I wasn't perfectly happy. Not anymore. And my mom bringing up Grant only twisted the knife in my chest even further.
Tonight was a reprieve, but I had to go back to working at the bar tomorrow. I had to go back and work with Grant.
I was still pissed. And heartbroken. I had no idea how to fix any of it. I didn't know if I even wanted to.
Whatever brief relationship I'd had with Grant was clearly over, and I didn't know if I could go back to just being friends. I didn't know if I could even go back to being coworkers.
The thought of working side-by-side with him every day used to give me happy little tingles.
Now the idea only filled me with dread.
After pie, ice cream and cups of tea, the dinner party was finally over. I said a quick goodbye, and after promising to have dinner with my parents again soon, I was able to make my escape.
The evening hadn't eased my now-perpetual bad mood. It had only added an annoyed sort of dejection. My mother was never going to be happy with my life choices, unless I was doing exactly what she wanted.
But I had to ask myself, was I even happy with my own life choices? I liked my job, I liked my coworkers — or, I had, up until earlier this week — and now that I had the side project with Carling, everything was going really well, aside from the whole Grant situation.
I glanced at my phone. Five new messages. I put my phone back in my pocket, ignoring them. Maybe I should have responded to Grant. Maybe this silent treatment wasn't the best way to handle things.
But I was still so upset, in so many ways, and I didn't know if I'd be able to get through a conversation without it turning into a shouting match, or leaving me a sobbing wreck. Either scenario was likely.
When I got home I threw my purse on the sofa and flopped down next to it listlessly. It was still early enough in the evening that I should have started working on the new clothing designs. I was used to being up later because of my shifts at the bar, but the family dinner had ended relatively early.
I didn't feel like doing much of anything though, and I knew I wouldn't do my best work in the kind of mood I was in. Carling was expecting something amazing and I didn't want to let him down. It was better to wait until I had calmed down a bit more and was in a more stable state of mind. Past experience taught me that being distracted only hindered my work.
"Mew?" Mittens jumped up on the sofa next to me and curled into my hip. She'd been a good cat recently, not acting like her usual demon self. I stroked a hand down her back, letting her warm furry body soothe me.
"Maybe you're not the devil after all," I told her.
A knock on my front door startled me. It was too late for any door-to-door solicitors, and I barely knew my neighbors, certainly not well enough for someone to be dropping by to borrow a cup of sugar or something quaint like that.
I heaved myself off the sofa, dislodging Mittens from her comfy spot. She let out an indignant yowl so I gave her one last pet.
"I'll be back," I told her.
