Page 61 of Wild and Bright

Lauren

As I pull the chicken nuggets out of the oven, my phone rings, making me jump. A nugget at the edge of the baking sheet flies into the air, but before it hits the floor, I catch it with the top of my foot.

“Look, Cadence,” I shout.

She glances up from the kitchen bar, kneading a clump of play dough in her hands. “What?”

“I caught the nugget with my foot.” I lift my leg higher to give her a better view.

She glances at my foot, grimacing. “I don’t want it now. I don’t like foot nuggets. And I wanted ten, so you have to make another one.”

After turning from her view, I roll my eyes. She’s been grumpy all morning since I picked her up from her dad’s. Apparently, Ryder promised to take her surfing with him and his buddies this morning, because he’s a man-child and forgot that Monday is my day to pick her up, even though we’ve had a nearly identical schedule since she was an infant.

Cadence hasn’t missed an opportunity to make it clear that she likes it better at her dad’s. It’s stupid that it hurts. It’s stupid that I’m so petty and take it personally. This is what kids do. I know this.

I blame it all on Cam. My emotions have been chaotic these last few weeks since he rejected me in that hotel bathroom. Even though he’s tried to make up for it, I can’t shake the hurt. I should be overjoyed he’s now offered to use his connections to help find me a social media job, but I can only see it as a confirmation that he doesn’t want me around four months from now.

To top it off, he’s in Oakland now, probably getting ready to leave his hotel to go to sound check. This is the first time since we moved in that he’s left town without me.

He’s pushing me away.

“Good thing I made fifteen,” I say tightly, bending down and picking up the foot nugget.

“I don’t want fifteen. I want ten.”

I mouth, “I want ten” as I turn to the trash compactor. I know I’m being stupid. But somehow, I can never control myself when I’m hurt.

“Who called?” she asks.

“It was the Darth Vader ringtone.” I grab the ketchup from the fridge. “It was Grammy.”

“Uncle Logan has the Darth Vader music, too.”

I smile at her impeccable memory. “I guess he does, huh? I forget because he never calls me. And he has the Darth Vader music for a different reason than Grammy.”

“Can we go to Grammy and Papa’s house today?”

Her tone is completely guileless—all of her earlier sass a distant memory—and it makes my stomach sink with guilt. I’ve been avoiding my mom since we moved, and it’s taking a toll on Cadence.

Steeling myself, I walk over to where my phone sits on the counter. I smile brightly at Cadence as I press the name on the call list. “I’ll check and see if they’re free.” When Cadence smiles wide, I know I did the right thing, and I wish I were noble enough to dread this call less.

As the phone rings, my pulse speeds up. How does my mom still have the power to make me feel this way, even now when she no longer rules my life?

“I haven’t seen my granddaughter in over a week,” she says as soon as she picks up.

I can’t help but smile cynically at her non-greeting. “Hey, Mom.”

“This isn’t healthy,” she says as if she didn’t hear me. “Your dad and I were part of her everyday routine. She’s used to seeing us. Just because you live in a fancy house now doesn’t change that. She needs her grandparents.”

“I agree with you.”

The phone goes silent. I must have surprised her with my ready assent.

“Then when are we going to see her?”

“I was actually going to see if you’re free this afternoon.”

“I can’t this afternoon. I have a hair appointment and my book club after that.” Her tone is full of self-pity, and a smile rises to my lips when I think of how similar she sounds to Cadence whining about the foot nugget. “But this isn’t about this afternoon. We need to see her more in general. Your lifestyle may have changed, but it shouldn’t change hers. You should be putting her needs above your own. That’s what it means to be a mother.”

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