After (After 1)

“I know,” I say. “But it makes me feel better.”

After I fold and put away the few items of clothing that were on the floor, I light a candle in the living room and wait at the table with Hardin for my mother to show. I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am—I’m an adult and I make my own choices—but I know her and how badly she’s going to lose it. I am already overly emotional from the brief glimpse into Hardin’s past I was granted an hour ago, and I don’t know if I have it in me to go to battle with her tonight. I look over at the clock and see it’s already eight. Hopefully she won’t stay long, and Hardin and I can get to bed early and just hold each other while we each try to deal with our family legacies.

“Do you want me to stay out here with you or give you two some time to discuss everything?” Hardin asks after a bit.

“I think we should have a little time one-on-one,” I say. As much as I want him by my side, I know that his presence will antagonize her.

“Wait . . . I just remembered something Noah said. He said the final bill for my dorm was paid.” I look at him questioningly.

“Yeah . . . so?”

“You paid it, didn’t you!” I half-shout. Despite my energy, it’s not really out of anger, just surprise and annoyance.

“So . . .” He shrugs.

“Hardin! You have got to stop spending money on me; it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It wasn’t that much,” he argues.

“What are you like secretly rich or something? Are you selling drugs?”

“No, I just saved up a lot of money and don’t really spend it. I lived entirely for free last year while I worked, so my paychecks just kept piling up. I never really had anything to spend money on . . . but now I do.” He smiles wide. “And I like spending it on you, so don’t fight me over it.”

“You’re lucky my mother is on her way and I only have it in me to go to war with one of you,” I tease and he lets out a long chuckle that fades until we’re just sitting, holding hands and waiting.

A few minutes later there is a knock . . . well, a pounding at the door.

Hardin stands. “I’ll be right in the other room. I love you.” He gives me a swift kiss before exiting.

I fill my lungs with the deepest breath I can manage and open the door. My mother looks eerily perfect, as always. Not a single smudge mars her heavily made-up eyes, her red lipstick is smooth and silky, her blond hair is neatly piled almost in a halo around her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing moving out of that dorm without telling me!” she shouts without introduction and pushes past me into the apartment.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” I counter, then focus on breathing in and out to stay as calm as I can.

She spins back to glare at me. “Excuse me? How did I not give you a choice?”

“You threatened to not help me pay for my dorm,” I remind her and cross my arms.

“So, I gave you a choice, but you made the wrong one,” she snaps.

“No, you’re the one who’s wrong here.”

“Listen to you! Look at you. You aren’t the same Tessa that I dropped off at college three months ago.” She waves her arms to gesture up and down my body. “You are defying me, even yelling at me! You have some nerve! I have done everything for you, and here you are . . . throwing it all away.”

“I am not throwing anything away! I have an excellent internship that pays me very well; I have a car, and a four-point-oh grade point average. What more could you possibly want from me?” I shout back.

Her eyes light up from the challenge, and her voice is full of venom as she says, “Well, for starters, you could have at least changed your clothes before I came. Honestly, Tessa, you look like hell.” As I look down at my pajamas, she switches to a new criticism. “And what is this . . . you wear makeup now? Who are you? You’re not my Theresa, that is for certain. My Theresa wouldn’t be hanging out in some devil worshipper’s apartment in her pajamas on a Friday night.”

“Do not speak about him that way,” I say through my teeth. “I have already warned you.”

My mother squints her eyes and cackles. Her head falls back in laughter, and I fight the urge to smack her across her perfectly painted-on face. I immediately cringe at my violent thoughts, but she’s pushing me too far.

“And another thing,” I say slowly, calmly, to make sure I deliver the pronouncement just so. “This isn’t just his apartment. It is our apartment.”

And just like that, I get her to stop laughing.

Chapter ninety-two

This woman I’ve lived with values her sense of control so much that there are few times I’ve managed to surprise her, let alone stun her. But here, I have really, truly stunned my mother. Her posture is erect and her face has fallen.

“What did you just say?” she asks slowly.

“You heard me. This is our apartment—as in, we both live here.” I put my hands on my hips for dramatic effect.

“There is no way that you live here. You can’t afford a place like this!” she scoffs.

“Would you like to see our lease? Because I have a copy.”

“This whole situation is even worse than I thought . . .” she says, then shifts her eyes to stare behind me, as if I’m not even worth looking at while she calculates her formula for my life. “I knew you were being foolish by messing around with that . . . that boy. But you are just plain stupid for moving in with him! You don’t even know him! You haven’t met his parents—aren’t you embarrassed to be seen in public with him?”