I go to her bathroom and use bathroom wipes to clean the dry blood from between my thighs, then change and head back to the guest room to sleep. I almost want to take a shower, wash last night off me, but for some reason I can’t fathom, I don’t.
***
I hear voices. Angry ones.
The little alarm clock on the bedside table tells me I’ve slept two and a half hours. Not nearly enough.
My mom and Amelia are outside the door and my sister is trying to keep her out.
“She can go back to sleep after I talk to her,” Mom says, and the doorknob turns.
I sit up.
Mom rushes to me, panic in her eyes. She’s got my blonde hair, though hers barely grazes her shoulders. Me and Amelia got our eyes from her, too. Mom wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight.
“I tried,” Amelia defends. “I managed a couple hours at least…”
I blow her a kiss.
“Ivy, talk to me. Talk to me, sweetie.” Mom gives the best hugs.
Well, second best.
I shake that thought off.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Ivy.” Mom gives me a stern look. “Tell me about meeting him. Tell me about him. Tell me everything. Tell me about those bandages.”
I wave my hand. “It doesn’t matter, Mom; it’s over.”
She stares at me, eyes working, giving me the math question face that Tyson gives me.
God, my heart hurts.
I bury my face into the pillow and bawl. I’m full-on ugly-crying. I feel my sister behind me, sort of spooning me and stroking my head.
“It’s gotta be pretty bad for you to be like this. I’ve never seen you like this,” Amelia’s voice is soft.
I turn and look at her. “It’s never been like this. I’m never ever falling in love again.”
Wait, what? Love? My whole body feels weird at that phrase coming from my mouth.
I’ve never used it about a guy. Not a real one, anyway. Fantasy hall pass guys, sure, but never about a real person.
Never.
I thought I was maybe malfunctional as a woman because all my friends, my sister, everyone I was close to felt love for guys. Deep love. They got heartbroken at breakups. I never did. I just moved on. Even when I got dumped.
Until now. How hard is it going to be to move on from this?
“I’ve never felt this way about anybody before, Ivy. My only. It’s because you’re the only one for me. We’re meant to be together.”
I shake Tyson’s words off.
Because if I love him, if I finally love someone then it just figures, right? It just figures I’d fall in love with a guy that would so completely obliterate me.
“You love him?” Amelia asks.
“It’s been a week,” Mom says, face radiating disbelief and maybe a bit of disgust.
I turn away from her penetrating gaze.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asks.
I empty my lungs loudly.
“Ivy, you gotta tell me everything. Now. It’s really important.”
“No, Mom. I can’t. I’m sorry. I just… can’t.”
Mom doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t.
“Are you wearing colored contact lenses?”
I shake my head.
“What the hell, Ivy?” Mom shrieks.
“I can’t tell you. It’s too…” Dangerous? Painful? Absolutely unbelievable? We never talked about my eyes, I should’ve asked Cat and Bailey, but it’s obvious that it has something to do with Tyson.
“I can’t talk about it. Please just cut me some slack, okay?”
“You’re scaring me,” Mom says, clutching her throat, eyes horror-stricken.
“Don’t be scared, Mom, I’m just being a drama queen.”
“That’s my job,” Amelia says, her voice sounding funny. She looks scared, too.
And that’s why it’s so funny that she bought me a drama queen keychain. Because everyone knows my sister is the one who blows up, who has meltdowns, who has the temper.
“No, I’m not a drama queen, you’re a drama queen.”
“You’re such a drama queen, you need a warning label,” I’d argued back.
She bought me the keychain for a joke when I was sixteen, her seventeen. And I still use it.
“I bet Ivy wants some pancakes?” Mom looks to Amelia. “Do you have the stuff for pancakes?”
“I don’t, but I can go get it,” Amelia offers. “You want pancakes, Ives?”
I nod. “I really do.”
I don’t. But, if they have something to do, this conversation can be over.
“Okay, I’ll be back.” Amelia snaps to it and heads out, leaving me and Mom in the guest room.
My mom’s eyes hit mine and now I know she got rid of Amelia on purpose.
Fuzz.
“Wanna go watch TV on Rick the Dick’s ridiculous eighty-six inch?” I try, faking a smile.
She shakes her head. “Wait until she goes.” Mom flicks between the white horizontal blinds to peek through.
I feel the groan of the automatic garage door opening under my feet. The guest room is directly over it.
“Now, young lady, talk to me,” Mom demands, turning around and folding her arms across her chest.
“I can’t, Mom. I’m too…”