Page 29 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

“Because it doesn’t go from How late can I call you? to Tell me about your screwed-up parents.”

“Are your parents screwed up?” Her eyes follow me as I make my way back to the couch.

“Whose aren’t?” I say, taking a seat again.

“That’s a really pessimistic thought.”

“I guess I’m a pessimistic person.”

“But you’re not. You never take anything seriously and make inappropriate jokes when you’re uncomfortable or don’t know how to respond.” And Quinton claims Jenna doesn’t know anything about me. “So why don’t you take this question seriously and tell me about your parents?”

“There’s not a lot to tell.” I blow out a breath. “They both worked a lot. I’m an only child, so I spent most of my childhood alone. When I was nine, they decided to split, and then they spent the next seven years in a custody battle fighting over me.”

“A seven-year custody battle? Is that even possible?”

“It is when you have good lawyers and money to drag out the conflict.”

“I guess that’s good that they both wanted you.”

“They didn’t want me. They just wanted to use me to hurt each other.”

“How did that make you feel?”

I’ve never been to therapy—probably should’ve—but I imagine it feels a lot like this.

“Like a pawn.” I’m surprised by my honest answer. I’m never honest about my past. “When I was sixteen, custody was awarded to my mom, but by the time I was seventeen, she took off with a new guy.”

“What do you mean took off?”

“Like, left. I came home from school one day, and she wasn’t there.”

“Did you try calling her?”

“Nope. I had all this freedom and no responsibility. I wasn’t going to ruin that by calling her.”

“Did you go and live with your dad then?”

“Nope. I never told him she was gone.”

“How did you survive? What about food and house payments?”

“I lived off the child support checks from my dad that were automatically deposited into my bank account until I graduated high school.”

“What about school?”

“I went to school…enough to graduate.”

“Didn’t anyone check on you? A principal or a teacher?” The disbelief in Jenna’s eyes is apparent. I’m used to that kind of reaction, honestly. It’s typical when you tell people your mom abandoned you during some of your most impressionable teenage years.

“People probably should’ve checked on me.” I shake my head. “But no one did.”

Pity fills the edges of her gaze. “So, were you miserable and lonely?”

“Nah. I was living the ultimate teenage-boy fantasy. My house was the bachelor pad, and I took full advantage of it.” I smile, shielding her from my real feelings. I was lonely, very lonely. Mostly at night, when all my friends went home to their families. That was when I started inviting girls over. I just wanted someone to fill the silence, even if it was just them breathing while they slept next to me.

Jenna nods in a that-explains-a-lot-about-you kind of way. And for reasons I don’t understand, I’m dying to know if the pity in her eyes is real, if she’ll take pity and stop judging me for everything she thinks I am and start seeing me for all the things I could be.

“That’s really sad, Cody.” She smiles in one of those sad kinds of ways. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

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