Page 82 of Told You So
“More lies?” she seethes.
I blanch. It might not be the whole truth this time, but I’ve been nothing but honest until now. “Excuse me?”
“You may think I’m an absentee mother, Bethany, but I’m not blind. I know what the walk of shame looks like.” Her words are like acid around my heart. “I defend you to your father and you dothis?”
“Do what?” Even if she knows about Nick, I can’t see her being so angry about it. She’s petrifying—even in the middle of the night her hair is perfect and her disappointment drips off each and every syllable. I’ve never seen her so angry with me.
“Did you forget something today?”
I shake my head, dread clawing at me as I try to remember. “No—”
“You were supposed to pick Jesse up from the movie theater—his friends left and he was waiting there, alone and scared out of his mind for over an hour. How could you do that to him?”
“But, I didn’t—”
“It took me all night to get him to calm down. What the hell was so important that you couldn’t even answer your phone?Him?”
My chest tightens. “It’s off,” I realize. “My phone’s off...” My mind is swirling. If I had been drinking, I might think I was intoxicated. It all feels unreal. “I checked the calendar yesterday—it wasn’t on the calendar.” I rush over to it to find it’s written in, but I know it wasn’t there the last time I checked. “I didn’t know I was supposed to pick him up.”
“Well, you were, and this time you get to tell him why you forgot about him and didn’t pick up his nineteen calls.” She shakes her head.
“I was with Nick, yes,” I say, my voice shaking. It feels like the world is cold and rushing in around me, and I can’t catch my breath. I would never forget about Jesse. I would never disappoint him. “It’s not like that, though.”
“So, you’renotsleeping with Nick?” I don’t want to lie, but I can’t bring myself to say yes. She shakes her head. “Never mind, I already know the answer.” She seethes the words, like I’m disgusting to her, and it tears at my heart.
My mom grabs an empty glass from the counter and walks to the sink to rinse it out.
“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, hating the hurt in my voice.
“Because your father is right,” she bites out. “This is Mike, all over again.”
“Nick isnothinglike him—”
“Only this time, your brother gets the shit end, too.”
“Stop using Jesse to make your point,” I grind out. “I’m nothing like you and Dad. Jesse knows he can count on me.”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare, but I refuse to be lumped into the same category with her. “I haveneverforgotten him before.”
“I didn’t either! It wasonemisunderstanding. I didn’t know I was supposed to pick him up. If you would communicate better and not leave last minute notes on the calendar, I would have shown up.”
“And your phone? Are you blaming that on me too?”
“I had my phone off for one afternoon.”
She shakes her head like she can’t stand the sight of me and it fuels my anger.
“I wantedoneday for myself—you’re acting like I’ve ruined Jesse’s life.”
“No, but you’re on the path to ruining yours.”
I gape at her, at a complete loss. How has it escalated to this? I don’t see her logic. I don’t understand what she and my father are so worried about. “You both act like I’m incapable of being a level-headed adult, like I couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend and maintain a semblance of responsibility. Mike was almostfouryears ago—I was in high school. It’s time to get over it already.”
She takes a step closer. “Get over it? You barely graduated high school because of him. You lied—you never went to class. God only knows what trouble you and Anna Marie got into. I half expected you’d come home pregnant. So, you don’t get to tell me I’m overreacting when I’ve seen first-hand how thoughtless and reckless you can be when it comes to your infatuations.”
“Thoughtless?” I breathe. “Infatuations?” I walk to my bag on the couch, pull out my journal, and toss it onto the counter. “Reading material, in case you care to know howthoughtlessI’ve been over the past ten years—howinfatuatedI am with Nick,” I say, tears dripping from between my lashes. “Since I’m such a disappointment to you and Dad, consider me a burden you no longer have to bear.”
I turn for the stairs. I don’t know if she picks up the journal or if she even plans to read it—I’m not sure I even really want her to—but it’s all I have left of myself to give her, and I’m out of ideas about how to get through to them.
