Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

All I can think about is the possibility of meeting my dad. And yeah, okay, the national TV incident won’t really leave my head either, no matter how much I chase it away.

The text he sent earlier didn’t help. Is he still waiting at The Grill?

I shake my head. I don’t care. At all.

Now I just need to stop thinking about it.

And being alone doesn’t help. On a Saturday night, Luce and I usually hang out together, but she’s busy with her new witch coven. I tried to distract myself by studying, but I really suck at preparing for exams in advance. I only excel when I study the day of.

Netflix also wasn’t much help, but hey, true crime shows are better than overthinking everything.

So I put on shorts and my comfy hoodie and lay my fuzzy blanket on the sofa, then go to the kitchen for my ammunition. Soda, chips, nuts, and everything that would cause Brianna and her minions to have a stroke if they saw me consuming it.

The scent of smoke is my only warning of Mom’s presence as she steps through the kitchen’s sliding doors with a phone at her ear and a half-burnt cigarette in her fingers.

She must’ve not noticed I’m here, because she doesn’t raise her head as she speaks in Japanese. And while I’m not the best at writing it, I understand and speak it perfectly. “I told you not to call me anymore.”

There’s silence before she continues, “That was a long time ago. When are you going to stop accusing me of that?”

More silence, then Mom takes a long drag, the burn visible on the cigarette. The longer she listens, the harder her limbs physically shake as she shouts, “I said, no!”

And with that, she hangs up, bringing the cigarette to her trembling lips. She seems weaker lately and she’s lost weight. Her job is definitely sucking her life away at this point.

“A clingy ex?” I joke.

Mom’s head rears up and she coughs, her breath catching. “Nao. How long have you been there?”

“Since the beginning.” I finger the items on the tray to keep my hands busy. “Who was it?”

She throws up a dismissive hand. “No one you should worry about.”

“Just like I shouldn’t worry about my father or my family?”

“You don’t have a father. As for your family, they kicked me out when I was pregnant with you, so I’m the only family you have.”

“You’re just saying that to guilt-trip me.”

“I’m saying that so you’ll stop having naive dreams. We only have each other.”

“I also have a father somewhere. You just refuse to tell me where he is.”

She steps closer, stubbing her cigarette on the edge of the sink as her eyes glisten with moisture. “I’m the one who faced social discrimination and did my best to give you a comfortable life. I’m the one who works day in and day out so no one looks down on you. What did your father do in all of that?”

“I wouldn’t know, because you won’t tell me.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“Just like you protected me from your boyfriend when I was nine years old? If Dad were here, that would’ve never happened!”

She raises her palm and strikes me across the face so hard, I reel from the shock of it. Mom doesn’t hit me. Ever. And the surprise on her face matches my own as burning tears roll down my cheeks.

Her violet-painted lips shake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Forget it.”

“I…told you to never bring that up again. It’s all behind us now. I stopped dating and cut off my social life to take care of you.”

“I never asked you to! All I ever wanted was my father and you never gave me that.”