Everything in me wilts as my tongue darts out to moisten parched lips. “Oh, ah, I wish I—”
Her mouth thins as her eyes harden with disapproval. “It is not a request, Brooke. Garret would be extremely disappointed if you didn’t make an appearance at such an important event. Do you need to be reminded that he pays your tuition along with all of your living expenses every month without fail?”
“No,” I grumble, “that’s not necessary.” Mostly because she trots this out anytime I need to be manipulated and forced back into line. I can only stew silently and remind myself that next year will be different. I’ll have an income and will be able to pay my own way. I won’t need Garret’s money for anything. At times like these, it’s the only thing I have to cling to.
Her expression smooths at my easy capitulation, and she bestows a smile upon me. “Good. I’ll text you all the details tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
When the waiter arrives with the padded folio, Mom takes out her pink Chanel wallet and tucks a hundred-dollar bill into the pocket before rising from her chair.
“Well, this has been quite lovely.”
And then I’m once again enveloped in another perfumed hug before being released back into the wild. As we head to the front of the restaurant, she runs into a woman she co-chairs numerous charities with, and I quickly duck out the door before I can be drawn into a conversation that will make me want to slit my own throat.
The throbbing in my temples has turned more into a full-blown headache as I slip behind the wheel of my Jetta and pull out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell are snapping at my heels. Although, that’s to be expected, which is why I popped a few Tylenol before leaving the apartment earlier this evening.
Even though I’m famished, and it feels like my stomach is consuming its own lining, I don’t bother to stop. I just want to get home, curl up in bed, and call Chris. I need to hear his voice. Somehow, he’s able to make everything better. He apologized about this afternoon, and I’m not going to hold it against him.
At least, not this time.
I mentioned that I would be having dinner with my mother, and after everything I told him over the course of the last couple of weeks, he seemed to understand that I’ll need to be talked down from the ledge afterward. I like that about him. He’s intuitive and hears more than the words that come out of my mouth.
Fifteen minutes later, I pull into a parking space outside my building and cut the engine. Instead of exiting the vehicle, I suck in a deep breath and allow my forehead to fall against the padded steering wheel. I don’t understand why it has to be like this. As far back as I can search my memory, I don’t remember a time when we were together and I didn’t walk away feeling like shit.
I just wish we could have a normal mother-daughter relationship like some of my friends do. They might envy the money my family has, but I’m jealous of the real connections they have with their moms.
What would that feel like?
It’s not something I can imagine, because I’ve never come close to experiencing true maternal love. It’s times like these that leave me feeling even more bereft, because I realize deep down that Elaine isn’t capable of being the kind of mother I long for. If I’ve learned anything from years of therapy, it’s to make peace with the things outside your control. Otherwise, it would be all too easy to waste a lifetime twisted up with bitterness.
Giving myself a couple of minutes to wallow in self-pity and acknowledge the hurt that has been inflicted makes it easier to pack it back up and put it to rest. A nice hot bath won’t hurt, either.
Just as I lift my head, ready to exit the vehicle, there’s a tap against the window. A scream wells in my throat before bursting free as my gaze settles on the face peering at me from the other side in the darkness.
18
CROSBY
So maybe rapping my knuckles against the glass when she wasn’t paying attention wasn’t the smartest way to announce my presence. Brooke’s eyes widen to the point of comicalness as she opens her mouth and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. With the luck I’m having, someone will call the police and I’ll cap off this day by getting hauled away.
It takes a second or two before recognition sets in. She blinks as the sound of her fright dies a slow death on her lips. For a long moment, we just stare. When her brows jerk together, I retreat a few steps so she can pop open the door. Her cheeks remain devoid of color as her mouth settles into a tight slash.