by Amber Garza
When she was younger, her mom would constantly criticize.
Be nicer to your brother.
Play with your brother.
Include your brother.
But when she’d give in, do what her mom wanted, her mom would nag at her.
Be careful with your brother.
Don’t be so rough with your brother.
Look what you did. You got your brother too excited.
There was no winning.
Whitney had often fantasized about being older. Wiser. More mature. And she’d longed for that time when she could stand her ground. Say her piece. Be herself. But now here she was, in her midforties and she was still kowtowing to her mom.
“Yes, that’s probably it. Amelia’s such a sweet girl,” her mom agreed. “I talked with her last week and she sounded like she was doing great. Just made a new friend, and she was really excited about visiting her dad in Amsterdam.”
“She told you she was going to visit her dad?”
“Yeah. Said she was just working on the paperwork for her passport.”
“There’s no way she could move forward with the passport. I never signed anything.”
“I think Dan was helping her with it,” her mom said. “He’s such a good dad.”
“Yeah.” Whitney was used to comments like this. Her mom always liked to remind her of the mistake she’d made letting Dan get away.
“Oh, Whitney,” her mom said. “Dad’s here. He wants to say hi a minute.”
“Hi, Whitney.” Her dad’s voice came on the line, a soothing balm. As a child, she loved when he sang to her or read her bedtime stories. There was nothing quite like her dad’s voice. It was smooth and rich, like one of those voice-over actors. “How is everything going?”
“It’s okay.”
“Why just okay?” His concerned tone caused her bottom lip to tremble.
“I don’t know. Just stuff isn’t great with Amelia. She’s been acting out a little. Being rebellious.”
“Well, you know how teenagers are. She’ll grow up and figure it out,” he said. “You did.”
Tears rushed to her eyes. It may not have seemed like a huge compliment but coming from her dad it was high praise. A man of few words, each one was weighty.
“Thanks, Dad.” All Whitney had ever wanted was for her dad to see her. Notice her. Like he did on those occasional nights when he would sing her to sleep. It only happened when Kevin stayed overnight at the hospital, her mother no doubt by his side. But when the hospital stays became more frequent, they would take turns staying with her brother, or both would go and they’d hire a babysitter for Whitney. Pretty soon, the singing and tucking in vanished altogether.
“Daddy, look!”
“Not right now. Daddy’s busy.”
You’re always busy, Whitney thought bitterly, wishing for the man with the happy eyes and large smile. Ever since Kevin was born, his eyes were drawn, droopy, and his lips were always frowning.
“Look, Daddy, look. I can do a handstand.” She placed her palms on the ground and threw her legs up over her body. Her hair fell over her face, smelling of apples and damp air.
Kevin started coughing.
“Hang on a second,” her dad said.
More coughing. Wheezing.
Her dad hollered for her mom, who immediately came rushing out, her gaze trained on Kevin, never once even glancing at Whitney. Lowering her legs, Whitney sat in the grass, the reeds itching the back of her bare legs. Pretty soon, they’d all be back inside, leaving Whitney out here in the backyard alone. She just wanted one afternoon with her dad. Was that so much to ask?
If only she were the sick one.
Then she’d have their undivided attention.
Their backs were to her as they guided Kevin inside. It was like she was invisible.
Like they’d already forgotten her.
Her mom and Kevin were already through the doorway. Her dad wasn’t far behind. Anger burned through her. She couldn’t let them leave her alone. Again.
Without thinking it through, she flung herself on the ground, hitting her head hard on the nearest rock. Pain shot through her skull.
“Daddy!” she hollered. “Help. I fell down!”
She didn’t have to fake the tears. The minute she felt blood trickling from her scalp, her insides trembled and so did her lower lip. Hot tears streamed her face.
“Oh, my God. Whitney.” Her dad rushed to her, scooping her up into his arms. He smelled like leather and cigars, and she inhaled the comfort of it.
Pressing her face into his chest, she savored the feel of his arms around her.
After hanging up with her parents, she turned toward the family room. Natalie was hunched over, and she could only see the top of her head from behind the couch. Probably on her phone.
Without saying anything to her, Whitney dialed Dan.
His voice was groggy and garbled when he answered.
“Did I wake you?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the wall and attempting to do quick math.
“It is the middle of the night.”
“Right. Sorry. I’m surprised you answered,” she muttered.
“I assumed it was important.”
“It is,” she assured him. “I just found out that you’ve been helping Amelia get her passport.”
A heavy breath. “So she could come visit me this summer, yes.”
“But you said earlier that she doesn’t have a passport.”
“The last time we talked she didn’t have it yet,” he said. “I just signed the paperwork for her.”
“Doesn’t she need both of us to sign?”
“Not now that she’s sixteen.”
“I can’t believe you went behind my back and did this.”
“Whitney, it’s the middle of the night. Can we not do this right now?”
“She’s not back yet, Dan.”
“Oh.” There was rustling. A creaking sound like mattress springs shifting. “I guess I assumed you knew about the passport from her.”
“No. My mom, oddly enough.”
Another “Oh.”
“She took several hundred dollars out of her bank account last week. You’re sure she’s not coming to you?”
“I think she’d need more than a few hundred dollars to get here,” he said.
“I’m getting worried, Dan,” Whitney confessed. “I’ve found out all this weird stuff about her today.”
“Like what?”
“Like that she’s been talking to some older guy online and seeing a different guy behind my back.”
“I know she had mentioned wanting to date someone.”
“She did? What else did she say to you about it?”
“Just that you told her she couldn’t.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“Hey, I get it. I don’t want her dating until she’s thirty.”
Under different circumstances, Whitney would have laughed. Finally, something they could agree on.
“How long has it been since you heard from her?” Dan asked.
“Twenty-four hours.”
“Do you think it’s time to call the police?”
“I already did,” she said, more defensively than she meant to. “They’re on their way.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good,” he said. “Keep me posted.”
“I will,” Whitney replied.
14
FOUR WEEKS
BEFORE DROP-OFF
IT WAS A Tuesday night. Business as usual. Whitney sat on the couch scrolling through Netflix, while Amelia holed up in her room, earbuds in her ears. After several minutes of not finding anything she felt like watching, Whitney left Netflix and clicked into Xfinity to see what shows she had saved.
The first on
e that came up was The Bachelor, her and Amelia’s guilty pleasure.
Last season they had Bachelor Night every Monday, where they ate snacks and made predictions about who would win. A couple of times Becca joined them; once Natalie did. But for the most part, it was something they did just the two of them.
Whitney glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway. Amelia was probably sitting cross-legged on her bed, hunched over her phone, earbuds in her ears. She’d told Whitney earlier not to bother her. That she had “hella homework.” But Whitney knew better. That was just Amelia’s way of getting out of chores or spending time with her lately.
It was hard for Whitney to reconcile. It hadn’t been that long ago that Amelia enjoyed spending time with her. But every time Whitney complained to Natalie about it, or anyone else who had had teenagers for that matter, they laughed, saying this was totally normal. According to them, a teenager not wanting to spend time with their mom was normal.
Normal or not, Whitney still longed for what they used to have.
Sighing, she clicked on the season premiere and sat back against the couch cushions. She’d gotten about five minutes in when she heard Amelia’s bedroom door pop open. Footsteps made their way down the hallway.
“Are you watching The Bachelor?” Amelia asked, more surprised than accusatory.
“Yeah,” Whitney said, keeping her eyes on the screen. “Wanna join me?” She didn’t turn around because she knew Amelia would see the desire written on her face. For some reason that was something that repelled her daughter lately.
Amelia hesitated a moment. But then the new bachelor entered the scene and Whitney knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Plunking down on the couch next to Whitney, Amelia said, “So I’ve seen some spoilers online already about this season, but don’t worry I won’t say anything. Seriously, though, I think this is gonna be the best season yet.”
Whitney smiled. “Want me to grab us some snacks?”
Amelia started to shake her head, but then stopped. “Maybe just some Skinny Pop and an apple.”
“You sure?” Whitney raised a brow. “I think I have some gummy bears in the pantry.”
“I probably shouldn’t.” She screwed up her face.
“Oh, come on. You look amazing. You don’t need to diet.”
Her mouth lowered. “You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“It’s the truth.” Whitney stood up. “Anyway, I’ll bring ’em out just in case.” In the kitchen, she rounded up a bunch of snacks, then carried them into the family room and dumped them on the coffee table.
Amelia snatched up the bag of Skinny Pop and scooped out a handful. Unpausing the show, the mansion came into view, a car pulling up.
“Oh, her dress is really pretty,” Amelia said through a mouthful.
“Really pretty,” Whitney agreed. It looked faintly like Amelia’s homecoming dress from last fall, glittery and purple.
“I don’t think she’s gonna last, though. Look at his expression.”
Whitney laughed. “Yeah, he doesn’t seem too into her.”
“That was awkward.”
Whitney nodded in agreement as the girl made her way into the mansion. They watched for a few more minutes in silence. When the commercials returned, Amelia picked up the remote to fast-forward.
“Did you finish all your homework?” Whitney asked as the people on screen moved at lightning speed.
Amelia didn’t answer. Her head was down, her thumbs moving over the screen of her phone, the remote already abandoned, lying on top of her thigh.
Whitney scooted closer, tried to peek over her shoulder.
Amelia noticed, turned her phone away. Looking up, she noticed the show had returned and hit Play, tucking her phone facedown under her leg.
“Who was that?” Whitney asked.
“No one,” Amelia said with a hint of impatience while staring at the TV.
Whitney decided to try a different angle. “Is it the same person you were talking to on the phone last night?” Whitney had heard hushed voices from their adjoining wall as she was trying to fall asleep. Getting out of bed, she hurried to Amelia’s room and peeked in. Amelia gave Whitney a sharp shake of the head and shooed her with her one free hand. The other held the cell phone to her ear. It felt like a slap in the face.
When Whitney was younger, most of her nights were spent on the phone in long conversations with her best friend. But now she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen Amelia talking on the phone, not texting. She had no idea who Amelia had been talking to. Ever since it happened, Whitney had been waiting for the right moment to bring it up.
She hated that this was what their relationship had become. Searching for right moments. Walking on eggshells. Skirting around issues. Hoping not to aggravate the teenage monster.
It was getting old.
Hand shooting out to grab the remote, Whitney paused the TV.
“It wasn’t no one,” she said. “Who were you talking to?”
Annoyed, Amelia crossed her arms over her chest. “A friend, okay? God.” After drawing out the word god and ending it with a hard d, she groaned. “Can we please just watch the show now?”
“Not until you tell me.”
Amelia’s eyes darkened, her lips melting into a hard line. “Why does it even matter to you? It’s my phone. I can talk to whoever I want.”
This wasn’t okay. It wasn’t how Amelia talked to her. She’d always told Whitney everything. Over the years other moms would comment about how jealous they were of the close relationship between them.
What had happened?
Whatever it was, Whitney wouldn’t allow it to continue.
She reached for Amelia’s phone, her fingertips latching on to the edge that peeked out from under Amelia’s leg.
“It’s not your phone. It’s mine. I pay for it,” she said, her tone firm.
“Stop. What are you doing?” Amelia pushed her leg down harder, cementing the phone in place.
Whitney yanked harder, and the phone came loose. She folded her hand around it.
“No.” Amelia lunged for it. “Give it back.”
“You’re grounded from it.” Whitney held it tight to her body, shielding it with her arms.
“Just ’cause I wouldn’t tell you who I was talking to? Why is it your business, anyway?”
“I’m your mom, Amelia. Everything about you is my business.”
“God, you are so annoying.” Grunting, she stood up and stormed down the hallway. “I wish you’d just get your own friends and leave me the hell alone.” Her bedroom door slammed loudly, the entire apartment rattling.
Usually, Whitney would leave Amelia alone. Give her a few minutes to cool off before going in. But tonight, she was too angry to wait. Leaving the cell phone on the couch, she popped up and raced after her daughter. Adrenaline pumping, she flung open Amelia’s door with more force than she meant to.
“How dare you talk to me like that,” she snapped. “You may think you’re becoming an adult, but you don’t own this place, Amelia.”
“Oh, trust me. I know,” she said, bitterness in her tone. “You’ve always been the one in control.”
Whitney paused. “What’s going on with you? Why are you talking to me like this?”
“I’m just so tired of you running my life, Mom. You won’t let me have anything that’s just mine.”
“You can have whatever you want that’s just yours if you pay for it,” Whitney snorted. “Do you have a job?”
The minute the words left her mouth, she knew they were the wrong ones.
Amelia’s eyes narrowed to mere slits on her face. “No, because you won’t let me get one.”
It was the truth, but only because Whitney wanted her to focus on school. She was a child. She didn’t need to work. Still, they’d had a huge fight o
ver the weekend about Amelia wanting to apply to work at some clothing store in the mall. Whitney couldn’t remember the name of it. One of those places that smelled like way too much cologne, where everything was overpriced. Whitney thought she was doing Amelia a favor by not letting her work there. Once Amelia was an adult, she’d have to work the rest of her life. Why did she need to start so early?
“You won’t let me do anything that doesn’t include you,” Amelia continued.
“That’s not true.”
“Name one thing.” Amelia cocked an eyebrow.
“You go to school.” Amelia’s brow rose further, and Whitney realized that was a stupid one, so she moved on. “You hang out with friends.”
“Only here,” she said, “where you always are.”
Whitney hated the way she emphasized the word “always.” Whitney worked from home to be near Amelia. It wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing. Amelia would see that one day. She’d appreciate all the sacrifices Whitney made for her. To give her a good life.
To keep her safe.
Instead of saying all of this, she added, “You have swim team.”
“Seriously?” Amelia scowled, placing a hand on her hip. “I joined swim team because of you.”
Whitney frowned. “You love swim team.”
“No,” she said emphatically. “I love swimming. Same as you love running. You’re the one who wanted me to compete. You’re the one who signed me up for the team when I was little, and then every year after that without even consulting me.” Amelia placed a hand on her hip. “I overheard you talking to Natalie about it once. Said it kept me out of trouble.”
Whitney opened her mouth to defend herself, but couldn’t come up with anything. She felt blindsided. This was the first she was hearing of any of this. She’d always thought Amelia loved being on swim team.
“Just admit it,” Amelia said. “You don’t want me to have anything in my life that doesn’t include you,” Amelia said, her voice rising. “It’s why you won’t let me date.”
Whitney sucked in a breath. A cold chill worked its way up her back. “So, that’s what this is about. Dating?”
“No,” Amelia said quickly. “It’s about you controlling my whole entire life, and I’m sick of it.”
