Bad Boy Blues

But even then, the lack of sleep, the fact that the world was an unknown void for me, I never thought of coming back.

Because nothing’s worth coming back here. Not then and not even now.

Three years and not one thing has changed. This town still smells like shit and a fuck-ton of bad memories. The wide walls, the big architecture, miles and miles of estate that foolish people pay premium dollar to tour.

It all makes me feel small. Tiny, worthless.

The Pleiades, my birthplace, has always made me feel how much I don’t belong here.

I’m in my old room. It’s done in dark shades, gray and black. Everything looks polished and fresh. They probably spent an entire day cleaning it up, thinking I’d be staying.

But I’m not.

I know what freedom feels like, tastes like. I know that freedom is riding my bike down a never-ending highway. Freedom is the wind in my face.

Freedom is the knowledge that at the end of the day, I don’t have to come back to a place I was trapped in for eighteen fucking years.

I’m shoving my clothes inside my backpack when I hear a knock at my door. I’d let it go but I’m going there anyway.

Besides, I have a feeling who it might be, and I need to set her straight once and for all.

Zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I cross the room and open the door. Nora, Mrs. Stewart to everyone else, stands there, carrying a tray of food. She looks at me, followed by the backpack on my shoulder, and her lips purse in disappointment.

She lifts the tray and says, “I brought you food.”

“I can grab something on the road.”

“So, you’re leaving then?”

“Yes.”

She’s silent for a heartbeat before saying, “Tests come back next week.”

I clench my jaw. “Call me with them.”

Her silence at my casual answer stretches longer than before. I know what it means. It means she’s prepping her comeback. That’s the thing with Nora. She thinks that just because she’s been working for my family ever since I was born, she has some kind of liberty to lecture me. Like I’m her kid or something.

For the most part, I let her think that. Maybe as a gratitude for all the times she snuck food into my room, or put me to sleep or dried off my tears that I was too proud to acknowledge myself when no one else was allowed to have any contact with me. But if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll keep her mouth shut.

“Nothing’s changed, you know,” she begins softly, or rather it would be soft if her expression wasn’t stern and her voice didn’t sound like it belonged to a school principal. “In fact, things have gotten worse. If you thought your leaving would solve everything, then you were wrong. It didn’t happen. He’s still the same and she still makes excuses for him. Most of the staff don’t know what’s going on. But the ones who do, we’re not allowed to talk about it.”

Ah, so she’s going with emotional blackmail.

“Got it,” I say, going the casual route.

“Your mother loves your father very much.”

Jesus.

She doesn’t know when to stop, does she?

I look at the floor, trying to hold on to my patience. I’m not very good with it. Never have been. Not even at the best of times, and this isn’t the best time.

“All right, here’s the deal,” I begin, telling it how it is. “I rode my bike most of the night last night to get to this piece-of-shit town. I’m running on very little sleep. My father’s reaction on seeing me for the first time in three years was to ask if I finally came to my senses and crawled back to apologize and ask for money. All my mom said to me was that if I was planning on staying then I needed to play nice and not upset my dad. I needed to show up at the party, drink champagne, smile at people I don’t give a fuck about. All just to show the world how happy they are to have me back.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I should’ve left the moment she came out with the party plan. Anything to make my dad look good. But like an idiot, I stayed. And now I’m cagey. I’m impatient and I’m this close to going on a fucking warpath. So stop talking and let me pass.”

Does Nora listen to it? No.

She gives me the stink-eye, holds onto her tray like a shield and continues like she never heard me. “And you love your mother very much. That’s why it took one phone call, just one, for you to get back. And that’s why you didn’t leave when you should have.”

I grit my teeth and look at the ceiling for a second. “You’re fired.”