“How come you didn’t leave with Livia?”
He slows down as he nears my street. “I didn’t want to.” His strong, tanned hands move on the gear shift, and I can’t help but watch his movements.
“Aren’t you two a thing, now?”
My house comes into view, and he goes even slower. Looking at the trailer, I notice there are no lights on. She isn’t home. Not a surprise either. Coming to a stop, he turns the car off right in front of my small dog box of a trailer.
“She wants to be.”
“And you don’t?”
Ryken turns to look at me, his eyes dark. “Do we really know what we want? Or do we just pretend most of the time?”
It’s a loaded question, and I don’t even know how to answer that. My hands run my skirt, straightening it.
“Why do you do that? Stop doing that.”
My hands stop, and I put them to my sides. “Habit, I guess.”
He shakes his head. “Break it! And stop thinking you’re less than them. You aren’t, not by any means.”
My hands clutch the seat, and my heartrate picks up. “I should go.”
Ryken offers me a curt nod then looks straight ahead. Those dark eyes aren’t burning me now.
“You should.”
Reaching for the cold door handle, I pull it so the door opens, but turn back to look at him. “What did he mean when he said I would sell well?”
Ryken spins around to look at me. “You shouldn’t worry what Quinn says. And if you see him again, run the other way.”
I let it go. “Goodbye Ryken, thanks for the lift. I appreciate it.” Getting out and shutting the door, I hear his car engine rev as I walk to my door.
“Saskia.” I turn around to look at him. He now has sunglasses covering his eyes and his window is down. “Miss the bus tomorrow.”
I don’t bother answering him as he drives away without waiting for an answer from me, because I won’t miss the bus tomorrow. Whatever this is, it can’t happen again. Stepping into my home, the first thing I see is my mother’s clothes all over the floor, my bedroom door open, and my stuff pulled out. She knows Livia gives me money. Livia’s father, who’s my mother’s brother, helps me out. My father died when I was young, and my memories of him are slim to none. And my mother doesn’t do photographs, so the only contact I have with him is through Livia’s family.
Sliding my hand to the side of my mattress there’s a small cut which is where I keep my cell phone. Livia’s mother gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. When my hand touches it, a small gasp leaves my mouth in happiness. Thank God, she didn’t find it. Checking, I see two messages from Robert and one from Livia apologizing about forgetting me today. That she has a date with Ryken and how excited she is. I don’t even bother to reply. Texting Robert with a quick message, I notice he reads it and rings straight away.
“You’re shitting me, right? Livia forgot about you? What a bitch.” Before I can answer, he speaks again. “Hold on. How did you get home then? It’s too soon for you to be calling me if you had to walk.”
“Ryken drove me home.”
“Shut the front fucking door.”
I have to pull the phone away from my ear so I can no longer hear his screaming.
“You didn’t fall more in love with him, did you?”
Laying down on my bed, I think about how I should answer him. “Umm… I hope not.”
“Fucking hell, you did, didn’t you?”
“I did not…”
“You paused. You paused, Sass.”
Shaking my head, I hear the front door open.
She’s home.
“I have to go.” I hang up without giving him the opportunity to say anything more and hide my cell in the same spot. Just as I sit back on the bed, my door slams open and she stands there. Her long blonde hair as white as mine.
“You’re home.” Mom looks around the room then back to me. She’s dressed in her scrubs from working at the elderly home. “I have to go back out. Have you eaten?”
Shaking my head no, she looks around the room one more time before coming back to me.
“Why are you here?”
Mom’s never here.
Why all of a sudden is she caring if I’ve eaten or not? I wouldn’t go as far to say she’s a terrible mother. More, neglectful. The fridge always has food. There’s a roof, albeit a leaky one, over my head. But her absence is the main thing that’s missing from my life.
Birthdays. What are those?
Holidays. Always spent by myself.
“I guess I deserve that.” She nods to the kitchen. “I bought some takeaway. Let’s eat before I have to leave.”
“Why not just go?” I ask, following her out to the kitchen, where there’s a familiar fast food bag sitting on the countertop.