Page 28 of The Fake
She sighs. “I know. I tried to tell him, but he said he needed to start carrying his weight. I couldn’t talk him out of it.”
“I told him I’d figure something out.”
“Even so, we’re struggling to cover all the other expenses. It adds up. He understands. Maybe once I get a job…” Her words trail off. I’m not sure she even believes it enough to finish the sentence.
Waiting for my mom to get a job and then keep said job for more than a month is like wishing on a star. She sighs and the guilt I feel about Dad claws at my throat.
My mom was a teacher before my dad died. She worked at a private school teaching science. She was the mom who, despite working long hours grading papers and putting together lesson plans, still volunteered and still found time to be there for Heath and me. She never missed a high school game.
But now? Depression makes it hard for her to function. I’ve read all about it and I’m trying to be understanding, but it’s hard not to take it personal sometimes. She hasn’t made one single game since I’ve been at Valley, and I have my suspicions that she’s not made a lot of Heath’s games either. I don’t know this woman and as awful as it might be, I don’t really want to know her. I want to remember how she was before. It’s almost as if I lost both parents four years ago.
“How much does he need?”
She’s quiet for a few minutes. “Eight hundred. I have an interview today so I might be able to help in a couple of weeks.”
I run a hand over my jaw. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she should consider maybe talking to someone, but it’s not like I’m in any condition to dole out advice on a happy, healthy life. So instead, I say, “I don’t have that much right now, but I’ll do what I can.”
Somehow. Some way.
She doesn’t respond. No thank you, just dead air. I think she’s embarrassed, but so am I. It’s not cool to be the poor kid at any age.
“Make sure Heath is at practice today. If he misses too many days, the coach will cut him.” Hockey is his dream, and he should get a chance to see it through. As much as I know my mom loves Heath and me, she can’t see beyond herself right now and Heath needs someone to set an example and be there when he screws up. Because he’s gonna keep doing stupid shit—it’s part of being eighteen.
It’s quarter ‘til when I get to Freddy dorm and hustle up to the fourth floor.
Chloe answers with wet hair and a half-eaten apple in one hand. “Hey. What are you doing here?” she asks, holding her free hand in front of her lips as she chews and talks.
“We’re having coffee before class.”
“Oh, you were serious about that.” She leaves the door open and walks over to a chair where she picks up her backpack. “Everyone’s gone so we don’t really have to do this.”
Taking her bag and putting it over my shoulder with mine, I head out to the hallway and wait for her to join me. Maybe this is all fake to her, but I like spending time with her, and I’ll take as much of it as she’ll give me. Beats sitting around thinking about all the other shit-fucked things going on. As long as I don’t think about the circumstances too hard, all I feel about hanging out with Chloe is excitement.
“Wait,” she says and goes for her bag.
“I got it.”
She shakes her head and unzips one of the pockets and retrieves her phone. “Venmo okay?”
I nod and give her my email. My phone is in my pocket, but I feel the vibration from the notification when she’s done.
“All good?” She walks past me toward the stairs.
I don’t pull out my phone to check. “Yep.”
That weight I’d been feeling is back. I brush it off so she can’t see my misgivings. She’s not paying me for my time, just for a façade, or that’s how I rationalize it. Feels like salvation and destruction all at once.
“How are things with the roommates?” I ask as we exit the dorm.
“Sydney fell asleep still talking about the party last night, and it’s been almost twenty-four hours since Bri glared at me.”
“Progress.”
She nods and takes another bite of her apple, then tosses it in a trash can outside of Freddy.
“What classes did you have this morning?”
“Applied Comm and Ethics.”
