Authors: Lauren Smith
a m e l i a
Chase kept his word. We went back to his place last night, cuddled up on the couch, and “watched” a movie together. We kissed until our lips were chapped, making us both all hot and bothered. He ended up dropping me back off at my place a little after midnight. He walked me to the door, and kissed me goodnight like a perfect gentleman. We both agreed that we wanted to go out again this weekend, but he said that he’d have to check his work schedule and get back to me. I hope that isn’t guy code for, “I had a great time with you last night, but don’t count on me calling.”
It’s early in the morning and I’m sitting on my bed reflecting on our date last night. It was flawless. Well, perfect for me, anyway. And that kiss...
oh, my God
. That kiss topped the list of all my first date kisses. I’ve never felt so much heat and passion fill me up inside. It gives me butterflies just thinking about it. I’m trying to keep my guard up and not read too much into it, but Chase is making that very difficult. It’s usually hard to break through my steel barriers, but when he’s around, all of my common sense just dissipates.
Pitiful, Amelia. Just pitiful.
I hop out of bed and walk out to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.
A couple minutes later, Raven comes strolling out with wet hair, wearing only a towel around her torso. “Good morning,” she beams.
“Morning. Coffee?” I ask cheerfully.
“Yes, please.” She takes a seat on one of the bar stools.
I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour her a hot cup. Sliding her the mug, I reach for another one and pour some for myself. I add a couple spoonfuls of sugar and walk around the center island to take the seat next to her.
“So...how did it go last night?” she asks, eager for information.
“Oh, my God, Rave, I had so much fun. He’s so different from what I was expecting. He’s sweet and charming and funny, but he’s also got just the right amount of bad boy in him, too,” I gush.
“Tell me all about it,” she demands.
“Well, first he took me out to dinner and then we went mini-golfing.”
“Mini-golfing? she asks, incredulous.
“Those were my exact words, too. But it was actually a lot of fun, believe it or not.”
“You know what, now that I think about it, I take that back. I can’t say I’m surprised. That has Chase written all over it. But anyways, continue.” She waves her hand, prompting me.
“To sum it up, we ended up back at his place, but we kept things PG with kissing and a movie.”
“No hookup?” she checks.
I shake my head vigorously. “No hookup.”
“Good kisser?”
“
Amazing
.”
I proceed to tell her all of the fine details of last night, when all of a sudden, my phone starts playing the theme song from
Halloween.
“Shit, that’s my mom.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“No, I’ll let it go to voicemail and call her back later.”
“You know you can’t ignore her forever, Mia.”
“I know, I know,” I say, exasperated.
“I’m serious. Get it over with. Rip the bandage off. Maybe if you tell her you’re okay, and let her know you need some space, she’ll leave you alone.”
“Believe me, I wish it were that easy.”
Raven forces a small smile and drops it. We continue to sip our coffee in awkward silence. The only sound in the apartment is the ticking coming from the clock on the wall.
I really do wish it were that simple. I wish my mom and I could work things out, but the bottom line is, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Apparently, despite my best efforts, you can’t outrun your past, either. No matter how far you go, and how fast you run, your problems will eventually catch up with you. The only way that I’m going to truly move past all this and get on with my life, is to face the music and call my mother back. It’s certainly better than putting it off and having an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach all day.
Raven clears her throat uncomfortably. “I’ve got to go get ready for class.”
I turn my head and give her a tight smile.
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“I have to work,” she says apologetically.
“No worries. I have stuff I should get done today, anyways. I need to start looking for a job and run a few errands.”
“I can see if the restaurant is hiring. I’m sure if there’s a spot open, my parents would hire you in a heartbeat,” she offers.
“I appreciate that, but you’ve done enough for me already. I think I’m just going to apply to a few steakhouses around the area. If I have trouble finding something on my own, then maybe I’ll get back to you on that offer.”
“Okay, let me know if you change your mind,” she says, standing up. She walks around the center island, rinses out her coffee mug, and puts it in the dishwasher.
“Hey, Rave?”
She looks up.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks again for the talk. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I know you’re right.”
Her eyes soften. “You’re welcome.”
She starts walking out of the kitchen but quickly turns around. “Oh, before I forget, ACL going on at Zilker Park this weekend if you’re interested. Eric and I got tickets for everyone ahead of time, but one of our friends backed out last minute, so there’s an extra ticket up for grabs if you want it. I also may happen to know something about Chase having a ticket of his own,” she alludes.
My heart jumps at the idea. Austin City Limits is an extremely popular music festival that goes on for a couple weekends in the fall. It’s a big deal, and it’s the first time I’ve ever been able to go. Knowing Chase will be there, too, is like the icing on one very delectable cake. Raven couldn’t have made a better sale if she was an ice water salesman in the Mojave at high noon.
I give her a slow smile. “I adore you.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She spins on a heel and leaves to finish getting ready.
* * *
“Mom, for the last time, I’m not coming back and I’m not giving you any more money, okay?”
I finally worked up the courage to call, waiting for Raven leave for class. It’s close to twelve, which means my mom has already started drinking, but she isn’t incoherent and bitchy yet. This is a calculated move—to call her back now instead of waiting until later in the day. She’s easier to deal with. The reason she called me earlier was to remind me about the house payment that’s due on the first. Figures. This woman usually can’t remember jack shit—my birthday, graduation—but she never fails to remember when I’m supposed to pay the house bill.
“Why not? Do you not care about keeping a roof over our heads?”
“I don’t live there anymore. My home is here now.”
“Well, what about keeping a roof over my head? Do you not care about me anymore? You think you’re too good for this place now, is that it?” she accuses.
I roll my eyes and bite my tongue. This is typical Mom. If she isn’t shitting on me then she’s guilt tripping me.
“No, Mom, that’s not it. I told you I was done. I wasn’t kidding when I said that.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it, Amelia. You can’t just up and move your entire life somewhere. You have responsibilities. You have bills to pay.”
I take a calming breath and try not to let her succeed with her guilt tripping schemes. She knows exactly which buttons to push and exactly what to say to make me feel badly. I’m tired of always feeling guilty for her fuckups.
I quickly recall the last conversation I had with my therapist before I left home. She told me I had to let go and try to get my mom professional help. According to her, it isn’t my responsibility to keep my mom above water. She warned me that my mom would probably have to hit rock bottom before she gets better. Apparently, we’re still in the seemingly never-ending spiral stage, and she hasn’t hit her bottom yet.
“Mom, I’m cutting you off financially. I
have
cut you off financially. I’m not going back on my word. You need help and I need a chance to live my life.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed and take another deep breath before continuing. It’s hard for me to say no to her, and, to be honest, I’m still learning and coaching myself as I go.
“I love you, but you need help that I’m not able to give. By sticking around and taking care of you, I’m only enabling you to keep drinking. I can’t be your crutch anymore.”
“Fine, we’ll just see how you feel about all of this when I lose the house. I’ll be on the streets and you’ll have no home to come back to when things go wrong down there in good ol’ Oklahoma.”
Her words burn me like acid.
“Texas, Mom. I’m in Texas.”
“Whatever. Don’t even think about calling me for help. You’re on your own now.”
“Always have been, always will be,” I counter.
She hangs up on me. I let out a pained breath and lay back on my bed to stare at the ceiling, deep in thought. Even though I’m so far away, it feels as if I’m back there. And as horrible as this sounds, I just wish she would find someone to take care of her so that she doesn’t have to be my problem anymore. She’s become nothing but a financial burden over the years, and I’ve given up a lot, especially just to have it thrown back in my face.
Instead of getting upset over something I can’t control, I decide to go for a run to let off some steam. I throw my long hair into a ponytail, and change into my yoga pants, a tank, and running shoes. I reach for my headphones on the nightstand, plug them into my phone, and select “Plan B” by Mutemath to block out my thoughts.
After my run and a nice cold shower, I ran some errands—went to the post office, the bank, and even picked up some applications from a few places nearby that are in need of servers. I also did the one thing that I avoid till the very last second—grocery shopping. Seriously, I’d rather call my mom and talk to her for an hour. As always, I ended up buying a bunch of food that looked really good at the time, but I know I won’t eat later.
I open the trunk and glance around. Ah, the game has begun.
How the hell am I going to carry all this stuff up to my apartment in one trip
? Something has to give because there’s no way I’m making two trips. I grab as many bags as I can possibly manage before I feel like Macaulay Culkin in
Home Alone
when he’s walking home and all those groceries collapse. I turn in the general direction of the apartment with veins popping out from both forearms—more proof of my inherent sexiness.
“Need some help with those?” a smooth voice asks from behind me.
My heart stops beating. I know that voice.
Chase.
I turn around. He’s standing there, watching me intently with a gleam in his eyes. He’s leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, his face is clean-shaven today. He looks devastatingly gorgeous. It’s
so
uncharacteristic for him. I want to drop all of these bags on the ground, grab his shirt, and forcefully kiss the hell out of him—like a dramatic scene out of a movie. But I choose to stand here and give him a hard time, instead.
“Look at that, you’ve only had one date with me and already you’re a stage-five clinger.”
“What can I say? I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”
That is such a cheesy line, but unfortunately, it’s working. And the way he’s standing there with his arms crossed, challenging me with those stormy eyes, just pisses me off because it makes my heart palpitate. I secretly love it, even though I’m going to repeatedly tell myself that I don’t.
“How long have you been standing there? What are you doing here? And how did you get past the gate?” My questions come out in a rush.
“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and I used the code to get in. Raven gave it to me a few months back. I knocked on the door but no one was home. I was just getting into my car to leave when I saw you pull in. Talk about perfect timing. It’s as if fate is trying to tell us something, don’t you think?”
“Are you actually going to help me carry these up, or are you just going to stand there and be charming?” I ask.
“You think I’m charming?”
I give him a don’t-be-stupid stare.
“I suppose I could help you out, but not without something in return.” He comes up, grabs my face, and lays a kiss on my mouth.
“There,” he says, satisfied. “Now I’ll help.”
Chase follows me upstairs with the majority of the groceries, and I unlock the door to let him in. He goes to the kitchen and sets everything on the counter. I follow with the bag I’m holding. He eyes the vase of calla lilies that are on display, and I can sense his amplified state of pride.
We start taking everything out of the bags, and I’m all too aware of his presence. Every now and then, our arms lightly brush up against each other’s and my heart jumps at the contact. He’s fighting back a smile, like he knows exactly what I’m feeling right now. I’m starting to become a nervous wreck. I can’t concentrate when he’s in my personal space like this.