by Anna Cruise
“She's already here,” I whispered. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat, like I couldn't catch my breath.
Aidan sighed. “Shit.”
Sara got out of her car and stood at her door, staring at me.
“I'm so screwed,” I said. My hand shook as I fumbled for the door handle and pushed the door open.
“I knew it,” Sara said, as I came around the front of the car. “I just knew it.”
I didn't say anything.
She pointed at Aidan. “Get out.”
He hesitated, then slid out from behind the wheel and joined us in the street.
She looked him up and down. “So, you're Aidan.”
He didn't say anything, just stood there holding his keys, an insolent expression on his face.
She looked back at me. “I can't believe you, Meg. You promised me.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I know. I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Right. That's a little hard to believe because this little junket looks like it took a fair amount of planning.”
My vision blurred as I stared down at the cracked asphalt.
“You blew it,” she said. Her voice was firm, angry. “This was your chance and you blew it. You lied to me in a huge way and it's going to be a long time before I can ever trust you again. If I ever trust you again.”
Aidan finally spoke. “Hey, lay off. She— ”
“Shut up,” Sara snapped at him. “I wasn't talking to you. And you're done with her, too, by the way.”
“Hey, lady, I don't know who you think you are but you sure aren't my fucking parent,” Aidan snarled at her. “If I wanna see her, I'm gonna see her. And you can't do shit about it.”
Sara glared at him, then shifted her eyes to me. “Really, Meg? This guy is worth it? A guy who doesn't give a crap about you?”
“Hey, you don't know shit,” Aidan said. “If you...”
“I don't know shit?” Sara said, her voice rising as she stepped closer to him. “I don't know shit? Here's what I know, you punk ass little shit. I know you're older than she is. I know I can smell alcohol all over both of you. And I know that if you really gave a shit about her, you wouldn't have had her lie to go out tonight.”
Aidan's face went red beneath the streetlight, but he didn't say anything.
“So you wanna mouth off to me, play tough guy?” Sara said. “You go right ahead. But you're done with Meg as of right now. She may not be able to see you for what you are, but I do. So you go on your merry little way and go play tough guy somewhere else. Now.”
“You're a fucking bitch, lady,” he muttered.
“You better believe I am,” Sara said, laughing. “And you're only getting half the show.”
He stared at her for a long time, then looked at me. Tears were streaming down my face and I couldn't say anything.
Finally, he shook his head, got back in his car and drove off.
Sara stalked around the side of the car and opened the car door for me. She stood there waiting, a murderous expression on her face. I slid into the seat and slumped against the door when she shut it. She walked around and got in on her side. She jammed the key in the ignition, started to shift the car into drive, then stopped.
“Meg,” she said, her voice quieter now inside the car.
I slumped harder against the door, my body shaking as I cried.
“Meg,” she said again. “This isn't going to happen.”
I glanced at her. “What isn't?” I said, my voice tight and garbled.
She stared straight ahead, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. “I'm not going to let you turn into your mother.”
THIRTY ONE
I didn't say a word when we got home and ran straight to my room. I didn't turn on the lights and just dove into the blankets, burying my head in the pillows, crying as hard as I ever had. I kept expecting Sara to come in and flip on the lights, but she didn't and at some point I ran out of tears and passed out.
I woke the next morning, my eyelids stuck closed, adhered by a mixture of salt and makeup. My hair was a rat's nest and my entire body ached. My stomach growled and sand still clung to my feet beneath the sheets. The sun streamed into the window and warmed my face, forcing me to acknowledge that it was time to surface, to wake up and face the day.
I kicked off the sheets and blankets and walked to the bathroom. I looked like a raccoon that had lost a fight. I washed my face, scrubbing it entirely clean and then took a brush to my hair, pulling through the knots, the pain of brushing them out my own special sort of punishment. I stripped out of my clothes and put on a pair of cotton shorts and an old Chargers T-shirt. I went back into the bathroom and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I didn't want to think of what was waiting for me beyond the safety of my bedroom and the bathroom but I knew I couldn't hide forever. Because Sara would eventually come looking for me.
I took a deep breath and, before I could change my mind, hurried out to the kitchen to face Sara.
She was standing at the stove, a skillet full of eggs in front her. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I mumbled and slid into a chair at the table.
She dumped the eggs onto two plates and pulled toast from the toaster oven. She set the plates on the table, then grabbed two glasses of orange juice from the counter and set them next to the plates.
“I was just about to come wake you,” she said, sitting down.
I took a long drink of the juice. I'd figured as much.
She stuck a forkful of eggs in her mouth, chewed, staring at me thoughtfully. She washed them down with her juice and set the glass back down on the table. “So.”
“I'm sorry, Sara,” I mumbled. “I don't know what else to say.”
“That's a start,” she said. “Tell me exactly what went down last night.”
I considered what my options were. I briefly contemplated trying to come up with some story that might explain the lies I'd told her, but I decided against it. I'd lost all credibility with her and I thought she would see through anything false that I tried to throw at her.
So I told her the truth.
Sara didn't fly off the handle. She listened carefully, watching me, probably looking for signs of any more lies. But I told her that I'd come up with the plan all on my own, that I'd asked Jada to cover for me if necessary and that Aidan had agreed to pick me up and bring me back from the party.
She didn't say anything for a few minutes after I was done talking and her silence made me even more nervous.
“I guess I could ask why,” she finally said. “But I think I know the answer to that. Because you felt like I was being too strict and you wanted to go.”
I wasn't sure if I was supposed to answer or not, so I kept quiet.
“So why don't you just tell me about Aidan instead,” she said.
I wasn't expecting to hear that. “Aidan?”
She nodded.
I shrugged. “I already told you about him.”
“No, you didn't,” she said. “You gave me his name. His age. Told me where you met. That's not telling me about him.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know about him. Why you like him.”
“I dunno,” I mumbled, staring at my plate.
“Oh, baloney. Tell me. Why exactly do you like him?” Sara asked. “I mean, besides his obvious respect for adults. That part was terribly charming.”
I frowned. “He's not like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I got the distinct impression he's exactly like that. But you tell me. Why do you like him?”
I thought for a minute. It was a question I'd never had to answer. Not to anyone. Even myself. “He's nice to me. He cares about me.”
“How?”
“What do you mean how?”
“How does he care about you?” she asked. “How does he show you that? I mean, if he cared about you, I'm not sure why he'd be OK
with you doing something that might get you in trouble.”
I shook my head. “You don't understand.”
Sara laughed and pushed her plate away. “No, I think I understand perfectly. You're pissed off at life. At your dad. At your mom. At your dad's new wife. At me. And you just needed somebody to make you feel like you mattered. And good old Aidan happened to show up at just the right time.”
I made a face. “You don't know.”
“Don't I?” she asked. “Well, let me make a few guesses. I'll bet he's terribly charming and fun when it's just the two of you. I'll bet you got carried away and probably did a little more with him than you wanted.” She held a hand up. “And I do not want to know about that right now. That is a separate discussion.”
The heat rose into my face and I knew she could probably see that I was embarrassed.
“So good old Aidan manages to say all the right things, make you feel special,” Sara continued. “But then I threw down the gauntlet and you weren't able to do as you pleased around here. And I'm gonna bet he didn't like that so much. And I'll bet a little more that rather than get mad at me, he got miffed at you. Maybe he blew you off. Maybe he just sort of seemed indifferent. Not exactly sure what he did, but I'll bet I'm on the right track.”
I didn't say anything.
“And so you felt guilty,” she said, staring at me across the table. “You felt guilty. Like you were letting good old Aidan down. So you—or he—came up with this plan to get out for one night. And it just blew up on you because I'm not an idiot.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“No?” she said, then she shrugged. “OK. I've got one question for you.” She paused and the silence was so loud, I could hear the faucet dripped slowly in the sink. “Since our little blow up last night, when he called me a bitch, has he called you? Texted? Emailed? Sent up a smoke signal?” She leaned across the table. “Has he tried to talk to you at all to tell you that he was concerned? About you?”
The tears felt like shards of glass in my eyes. I didn't say anything.
“I'm going to assume he hasn't,” Sara said. “I actually hope he hasn't because then maybe you might actually listen to me and not do something ridiculous like you did last night.”
The faucet continued dripping, the drops of water plinking against the stainless steel basin.
“You're on lockdown,” Sara said. “You lied. You had alcohol on your breath. And you're making bad decisions. So you're done for awhile.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice small and weak.
“It means I'm going to rearrange my work schedule,” Sara said. “I'll be picking you up at school starting Monday.”
“Pick me up?” I asked. “You're kidding me.”
“I'm not. Trust me,” she said. “I'll be there every single afternoon to get you. Then you'll come home, do your homework and we'll eat dinner and that's gonna be your night. No TV. No computer. And no phone.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”
“I'm not kidding, Meg,” she said. “You've lost any privileges you've had. Phone comes back to me. I'll let your dad know that if he needs to get a hold of you, he'll need to call my phone. I think he'll understand.”
“You're going to tell him?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I am. He should know.”
I put my head in my hands. “This is so unfair. So unfair.”
“Call it what you want, but it's your doing,” she said. “I know your life isn't fun right now and this probably makes it a whole lot less fun. But your decision making sucks and I'm not going to watch you make an even bigger mess of your life by lying, by drinking and by spending time with some guy who doesn't give a crap about you.”
The tears finally forced their way out and spilled out of my eyes, splashing down on the table. She was cutting me off from everything and everyone. Aidan wouldn't understand. I knew he wouldn't. I didn't care what she said. I refused to believe that she was right about him, despite my own misgivings that had surfaced the previous night. He was the one person that had made me feel good over the previous few weeks. And I wasn't going to give him up.
I lifted my head, the salty tears cascading down my face and over my lips. “You can't do this.”
“I can and I am,” she said, standing up from the table. “We can talk about it more tonight. Today, you get on your phone and you tell your friends why you aren't going to be available for awhile. Phone comes to me tonight. And you can call me every name in the book if you need to.” She took our plates from the table. “But last night isn't happening again. Ever.”
THIRTY TWO
I slammed the door to my room, furious. The door rattled in the frame and I wished the whole house would collapse, crushing me and Sara and everything in sight. But it didn't.
I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and flung myself on my bed. With shaking fingers, I swiped the screen.
No messages.
I dialed Aidan's number and got his voicemail.
I hung up and dialed again.
Voicemail.
I hung up and dialed again.
Voicemail.
He picked up after the fifth try. “Hey. Sorry. Was sleeping.”
“She's, like, locking me in my house,” I said.
“What? What are you talking about?”
I told him about my conversation with Sara.
“Oh my God,” he said when I was done. “Total bullshit.”
“I know,” I said. “I can't believe it. But I don't care what she says now. I'm done with her. There's no way she's gonna make me some hermit or keep me from seeing you.”
He chuckled. “You're pretty fired up.”
“Because it's not fair,” I said. “She can't do it.”
“Uh, I think she can,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“She wants your phone,” he said. “She can take your phone. She wants to pick you up at school, she can pick you up at school. Not like you can just move out.”
“Maybe I should,” I said.
“How?” he said. “Where?”
“I could live with you,” I said before I could think better of it.
“With me?” he said. “How's that gonna happen?”
“Your mom doesn't seem to care about anything.”
“That doesn't mean she's gonna let you live here.”
It was the first time he'd ever given his mother the least bit of credit. Was he serious? Or was he blowing me off? Either way, it stung.
“So you're just totally fine with this?” I asked, feeling the tears welling up again. “You don't care at all that I'm not gonna be able to see you?”
“Come on. It's not that. It's just I'm not sure exactly what you want to do here.”
I rolled over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to do,either.
“Of course I'm not fine with it,” Aidan said. “But if she's determined to be a total bitch, I don't know what you want me to do. It sucks, but I'm not sure what else to tell you.”
I didn't know what else he should tell me, either. But his reaction wasn't what I'd hoped for. I wanted him to care, to offer solutions, however far-fetched. I wanted him to be sad and frustrated and pissed off, just like I was. And he was none of those things. If anything, he was nonchalant, like I'd just told him I'd failed a quiz.
“Meg?” he asked. “You still there?”
I was. I was one hundred percent there. In the relationship. Wanting to be with him, wanting to salvage what we had, what we'd created.
And I was pretty sure that he wasn't.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “But I gotta go. I guess I'll just see you Monday at school.”
“Hey, Meg...”
But I hung up before he could finish.
I tossed the phone on the floor.
Nothing felt right. Nothing. Not my parents, not my aunt,
not my boyfriend, not my friends. Nothing felt like it used to and I felt as alone as I'd ever felt. At that moment, I would have killed for a drink, just to numb everything and let me float away. But I had no doubt Sara was pouring out all of the alcohol in the house and putting locks on the inside of the doors. Maybe looking for some tracking device she could have implanted in my neck. I was absolutely stuck.
And absolutely alone.
THIRTY THREE
“There's someone here to see you,” Sara said.
I rolled over on my bed. It was Sunday. The clock said noon. I'd slept in my clothes and it was the first time I'd heard Sara's voice since she'd dropped the hammer on me. I'd stayed in my room the entire day, staring at the ceiling and doodling in a notebook. I'd tried to call Aidan Saturday night, one last time before I had to hand over my phone, but he didn't answer and I figured he was pissed that I'd basically hung up on him. After I'd texted Jada and several others—and that was more to convince myself I still had friends more than anything else—I'd tossed the phone out in the hallway so Sara could do whatever she wanted with it.
I sat up and pushed the hair out of my face. “What?”
“At the front door,” Sara said. “There's someone here to see you.”
“Am I allowed to talk to anyone?”
“In person? Here at the house?” She nodded. “Yes.”
There was no way it was Aidan. I didn't think she would've let him within a mile of me at that point. The only other person I could think of was Jada. And, after the stunt I'd pulled last week, only talking to her to ask her if she'd lie for me, I was pretty sure the only reason she'd come by was to lay into me. I wasn't sure I was ready to face that.
“OK,” I said.
She put her hands on her hips. “Are you coming?”
I had the feeling she was going to drag me to the front door if I refused. “Fine,” I snapped. “Be out in a sec.”
She nodded and left.
I checked the mirror. My face was pink and splotchy, my eyes puffy and my hair was matted. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to pull it back into a ponytail. It was tangled and knotted and ended up looking more like just a mass of hair pulled into a ball than anything else. I didn't figure Jada would care.
