Page 3 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

My nerves were getting the best of me, but I tried to remain calm as my mother walked in. She was only an inch shorter than me, thin framed, and her eyes were blue, fading to alabaster gray. Unlike my long, dark locks, her hair was short and wavy, and she had dyed it ashy blonde. The roots needed some retouching. Her skin was very pale, but that was to be expected during the winter season in New York. Her best feature was her face. Regardless of the wrinkles that were starting to crease her forehead, she looked beautiful. My mother was the kind of woman who didn’t need makeup to turn heads. I really couldn’t understand what she saw in my stepdad. He wasn’t the most attractive-looking man—a bit overweight, probably because of all that beer he drank every day, and he had lost a lot of his hair (which explained the big bald spot). His eyes were brown, his face was clean shaven, and he had a raspy voice when he spoke. Rob had a gambling addiction. He was also an alcoholic in denial.

“Hey, sweetheart, can you help me with these grocery bags?”

I said nothing and rose to my feet, grabbed a brown paper bag, and followed my mom into our claustrophobic kitchen.

“I’m making fettuccine Alfredo tonight. How does that sound?” She was chipper. However, I certainly wasn’t.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I didn’t want to beat around the bush. “Mom, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up?” She started putting some groceries away in the fridge.

“It’s about Noah.”

Might as well get straight to the point,I thought.

“You know I don’t like to discuss your father,” she said.

“He called earlier.”

The eggs suddenly dropped and cracked around my mother’s feet.

“Shoot! I didn’t mean to do that!” She looked at me with a worried expression on her face. “Could you pass me a rag?”

I could feel this awkward tension creeping up on us, and it was making me uneasy.

“I want to know exactly what happened between you two,” I said as I crouched down to the floor and helped her gather the broken eggshells.

“Aria, I told you, we were a couple of crazy teens in love. I got pregnant with you, and he ran away from his responsibilities.” She wiped the laminate floor, cleaning the egg yolk before standing.

“You didn’t tell me why.”

“Why?” Mom repeated. “How should I know? Probably because of his psychotic family.”

“How come you never talk about them?”

“Because it’s a painful part of my past, and you were way too young to sit down and have a discussion about it.”

“I’m not ‘way too young’ anymore. I’m seventeen and mature enough to know the truth.”

“What did he want? How did he get this number?”

“I don’t know—I was too angry to let him speak. I pretty much told him to go to hell.”

“Good. I would’ve done the same.” She rinsed the towel in the sink and washed her hands.

“Obviously he wanted to get in touch with me.” I folded my arms in my chest and leaned my weight against the counter.

“I think it’s time to get that landline changed. I’ll speak with Rob about it tonight.”

“Why do I feel like there’s so much more you’re not telling me?” I relentlessly asked.

“I’ve told you everything you need to know, sweetheart.” Mom turned off the tap and met my gaze.

“Then why do you want to change our home number?”

I wasn’t sure why I was so bothered by that.

“So that he won’t call and harass you further.”

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