Shame Me Not

And then to see Kevin flirt back, when I was right next to him? We’d had sex just three days ago. What the hell was happening?

My mind was spiraling downward, along with my self-esteem. I had to take subtle deep breaths to get myself under control. When I felt the heat cool, I looked around to see everyone had moved on. I glanced at Kevin out of the corner of my eye and he was talking soccer with Isaac, not at all focused on Jane.

I felt like a fool. I knew Kevin, and I knew he would never flirt with a girl with me right next to him after what had happened. Hell, he never flirted with girls around me period.

I also knew I needed to make time to talk to him. We had to figure out what the hell was going on.

I tried to keep an eye out for him as I walked to the parking lot, but when I got there, his car was already gone. It wasn’t in his driveway when I got home either.

Trying to ignore where he could have gone and all the thoughts that maybe he really was avoiding me, I walked in my house. My mom was in the kitchen with about ten paint chips, all only slightly different than the other.

“Hey, sweetie. How was your first day of school?”

“It was good. Same as always.”

“Good, good. I’m thinking of painting the kitchen, but can’t decide on a color. What do you think?”

I really didn’t care. I just wanted to go to my room and wait for Kevin to get home, but figured this was a good distraction. Brushing aside the darker colors, I left a light tan and a soft sage. “I like these two.”

“Oh, don’t do this to me. You know I hate making decisions. Just pick one.”

I barely held back my sigh. I hated making decisions too, yet somehow, I was the one always doing it. My mom was a perfect Susie Homemaker, as long as you told her how to do it. She made dinners and decorated rooms, but you had to suggest the menu you wanted and what style of room you thought would work best. My dad used to lay out clothes for her when they went on a date. It was archaic, but she loved it. Said she always knew she was wearing what he found attractive and that made her confident that he always wanted her.

Apparently, it hadn’t been what he’d wanted since he’d decided on divorce. Since then, I’d become the one who made the decisions. It was exhausting. I loved my mom. She was great and loving and stern and overall, just what I needed. But I hated making decisions. I just wanted to relax and have someone make decisions for me because they knew me so well that they could.

Like how Kevin had given me pleasure and exactly what I needed without asking?

A shiver worked its way down my spine at the memory. Shaking it off, I looked at the paint chips again. “The sage’ll look good.”

“Good choice! I knew you’d help.” She scooped up the other paint chips and tossed them into her purse. Her back was still to me when she dropped her bomb.

“Your dad called. He said he wants you to apply to Vanderbilt.”

“What?” I screwed up my face in confusion. “Why?”

She continued to avoid eye contact, busying herself with something in her purse. “Because he wants to be closer to you and see you. If you go to college there, it would give you that opportunity. And Vandy is a great school.”

“Like he wanted to see me at Christmas last year and was barely around when I was there?”

There was no way she could have missed the bitterness of my tone. I didn’t want to leave Cincinnati. Especially to go back to Nashville. I wanted to stay close to home. To her. And to Kevin.

“Sweetie, he tries his best,” she said, trying to defend him.

“Well his best sucks.” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I was pissed that he went through her to corner me into this.

Mom turned to me with a sad smile and brushed my hair behind my ears. “Just apply. You don’t have to make any promises. Please.”

Just so there was no doubt about how upset I was, I made my sigh extra dramatic. “Fine,” I grumbled.

She walked away and left me with the frustration of my dad wanting to pop in an out of my life when it pleased him. He left us. He never called. He didn’t spend the time with me when I was there. Just the thought of four years of that weighed heavy on my chest. Leaving Kevin and being alone with my dad, who hadn’t given two shits over the past few years. No, thank you.