"What is wrong with you?" she yelled. "You'd think someone was killing you or something." Then she slammed the door and went back to her room.
I remained still, staring at the door after she'd left. Her verbal assault swathing me in guilt.
"But someone is killing me," I whispered, "every time I shut my eyes."
8. Intensity
"You survived," my mother declared with a laugh when I walked through the door.
"Um, hi," I replied, surprised to see her. "What was that supposed to mean?"
"Your first time ice skating with Sara," she explained. "How was it?"
"Cold," I responded, shedding my layers before joining her in the living room. "I wasn't expecting you to be home."
She picked up the wine glass that was on the end table as I sat down next to her on the couch. My stomach churned as I watched her take a sip.
"And how was the concert?"
"Uh, it was amazing," I responded, trying to conceal my discomfort. "How was your date?"
"He's so incredible, I could die," my mother gushed, instantly transformed into a giddy sixteen year-old. "He took me to this sushi restaurant, and then we went dancing. He makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the room. And believe me, every girl in the room is looking at him. He's so..."
If she said dreamy, I was going to laugh.
"...intense."
This description got a raise of an eyebrow out of me.
I knew she was talking about the same guy who had walked in the house last night. I could feel my cheeks heating up just thinking about how nonchalant he was seeing me in a towel, like it was the most common thing in the world. And of course, I couldn't have been any more awkward. I hadn't told anyone about it, not even Sara. It was not a moment I wanted to relive.
"He sounds great," I replied, distracted again when she took another sip from the wine glass.
"I can't―" She stopped when she saw me staring at the glass. She set it down and adjusted herself uncomfortably. "I really am sorry about what happened a few weeks ago. I wish more than anything you hadn't seen me like that."
I nodded, unable to tell her how helpless it made me feel to watch her drown her pain in vodka.
"I'm okay though, I promise," she reassured me with a hint of a smile. "I don't drink like I used to, really. I know my limit.
"I was hurting that night," she continued. "And I needed to take the edge off. I wasn't ready―"
"For me," I finished for her, knowing the only reason she'd searched for the pictures was because I reminded her of my father, and remembering him crushed her.
"No," she correctly quickly. "That's not it. I've made myself forget him, so I won't hurt so much. It's why you had to..." She couldn't finish the sentence, but I knew she was talking about why she'd left me with George and Carol. "But I'm better. I just had a bad night, that's all. So you don't have to worry if you see me having a drink or two. I have it under control, I swear."
"Okay." I wasn't exactly convinced, but in the month that I'd lived here, I'd really only seen the one lapsing moment. I guess I understood what triggered it, but I hoped more than anything that it didn't happen again.
"So, I told Jonathan about you," she said, smiling brightly. "I wasn't sure how he was going to react, knowing I have a teenage daughter. But, he wants to meet you!"
She said it like it was the most exciting news ever.
"Really?" I was tempted to tell her I'd already met him―however briefly. "Why?"
My mother drew her brows together, appearing offended that I didn't understand.
"Because he wants to date me," she explained emphatically. "So, he wants to make sure you're okay with us―you know, when he starts coming over."
"Oh," I responded with big eyes, finally understanding. "Great." I feigned excitement, but the thought of seeing this guy again made my stomach flip.
"What's wrong?" she demanded, her smile faltering.
"Nothing." I forced the words through a frozen smile, "That's really great."
"You're such a horrible liar," she accused. "But I understand why you'd be nervous. Don't worry, he's so great. You'll love him."
"So, when am I meeting him?"
"Monday night," she exclaimed jubilantly, her eyes sparkling.
"Great," I returned again as excitedly as I could fake. It seemed to be the only word my brain could form. "Great," I grumbled in dread under my breath when she left to top off her wine glass. "Can't wait."