The thing is, we had no choice, Brent and I. We had no choice because we couldn't be any other way, we loved the brunette too much, treasured her, absolutely worshipped the supple female. So there was only the waiting … and I didn't know if I'd survive.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Katy
I flipped through the pages of a book slowly, reading but not remembering anything, my eyes on the words but unable to see.
"Katy," interrupted Tina. "Kate-sters, what's going on with you?"
I glanced up at my mom, sighing.
"Oh hey mom, didn't hear you come in. How was counseling today? Did the therapist say anything useful?"
My mom snorted.
"Honey, I know everything that doctor is going to say before it even comes out of his mouth," she said dryly. "Trust me, it's just the same shit over and over again, the same twelve-step process, they never switch anything up."
And I sighed. My mom doesn't have an addiction but a lot of therapies have adapted AA's twelve-step program to various scenarios. In this case, my mom had a case of severe anxiety and depression but somehow her therapy group was always reciting the AA pledge, droning the words.
"If you don't like Dr. Jenkins, do you want me to find another doctor for you?" I asked slowly. "Our insurance isn't bad, I'm sure there are other providers close by."
But my mom snorted.
"Katy, honey, our insurance is bad, and there's no one else. Why do you think there's always a line to see him, why it's so hard to get an appointment? Because none of us can go anywhere else, that's why."
And I sighed. My mom had a point. We're poor without a lot of options, and were lucky to see Dr. Jenkins every other week. It was either him or no one, that was the sad truth.
So I fiddled with my book again, stuck in the smallness of my life, going through the motions of a high school girl without really living it, my heart locked inside a case of ice. Because this is what life is like now. I live on the other side of the trailer park with my mom, helping her get better, doing school work, and on the outside I look fine, but inside, I'm a mess. I can't get over what happened between me, Jason and Brent, and I have no clue what to do next. There's so much that's already happened and my mind is tangled, twisted, tying myself in such knots that I could scream. There are nights when I wake up at night in a cold sweat, bolting up in bed only to have it all come crashing down on me again, the enormity of the situation, the incredible stuck-ness that I feel, with no clear answers, no path forward. Because I have no idea how to resolve the situation. I absolutely love Jason and Brent, and they'd made clear that they'd take whatever I could give. But the thing is, how in the world would this work out? I was going to be pinned with a scarlet letter if I did the trio, if I entered into a relationship with them. And I wasn't ready to be labeled "that trashy girl," not yet, maybe never.
And Tina could sense my inner conflict, the tension thick in the air.
"Baby girl," she drawled, leaning back and lighting up a cigarette. "What's going on with you? Why haven't you seen Brent or that other guy, Jason, since I've been back?" She shouldn't have been smoking, but with her issues, that was the least of her problems.
"Why? What's it to you?" I asked quickly, a little too sharp.
And my mom let out a throaty chuckle which ended up in a series of hacking coughs, really painful sounding with a deep rattle in her chest. But nervous breakdown or no, my mom is smart, with an uncanny sixth sense about people and their emotions, and as her daughter, I was especially under the microscope.
"Well, there's the fact that you lived with them while I was gone," she drawled, taking another deep drag. "You lived with two men for a year, ate their food, slept at their place, watched their TV, and as far as I know, haven't thanked them for their generosity. So it's strange that you've cut off all contact, wouldn't you say?"
And I flushed. Because I had thanked Brent and Jason, in a way. I'd fallen in love and thanked them with my body, gifting them my cherries, letting them take and taking for myself along the way. But how could I explain that to my mom? So I just mumbled, "I said thank you when I left."
Tina shook her head again, taking another deep drag.
"No baby girl, there's more to it than that. You've been distracted since I got back, cloudy, dreamy, looking like a lost soul. What's going with you? Out with it baby, I'm the queen of therapy."
I choked a little, but before I knew it, the whole story came spilling out, how it had started so innocently with a few looks, a few heated glances and then become a full-on affair, both men loving me, our bodies wrapped around one another in sensual delight.
And my mom's no dimwit, she heard every word that I said, every syllable loud and clear.
"So Katy," she said slowly, taking another deep drag, "what you're saying is that you've fallen in love with not one man, but two."
And I nodded hopelessly, tears coursing down my cheeks.
"Ye-yes," I stammered. "I don't know how things got so complicated but it's just so fucked-up and I'm so confused and things shouldn't be like this and … " My voice trailed off painfully, my chest hurt, like my heart was crumpling and folding in on itself, a hole it its place.
Tina was silent for a moment, looking at me contemplatively.
"Well, at least you love each other," she said wryly. "Having two men in love with you is better than none."
There was some truth to that. Trust my mom to be dryly efficient, stripping things down to their bare bones.
"I know, I know, I'm grateful, but love shouldn't be this hard, right? It should be easy, everything should come easy and this … this is the opposite," I cried.
But Tina shook her head at that.
"Who said love is easy?" she hacked, voice raspy from the cigarettes.
I paused for a moment.
"Well, I mean … I mean, I guess I thought it would be," I blubbered. "I mean, I thought love was like soaring through the skies, things would just fall into place."
And my mom positively snorted then, which became another series of painful coughs.
"Katy, honey, sometimes I don't think you're my daughter, we're so different," she rasped, bent over double. "Where the fuck are you getting these ideas? Didn't I raise you in a trailer park? Nothing comes easy for women like us."
And I colored then. I prided myself on my street smarts, but had I lost my bearings this time?
And my mom confirmed it, nodding vehemently.
"What you're describing is the process of falling in love," she said tiredly. "But real love, the real thing isn't like that. Real love is something worth fighting for, worth struggling for, and you're acting like it should come to you served on a silver platter."
I bit my tongue for a moment.
"I guess," I said dully. "I just didn't think the struggle would be this hard."
My mom looked at me and sighed then.
"Any struggle is hard," she said dryly. "Why do you think it's called struggle? Why is work called work? Because this shit is hard and you can't expect things to turn out perfect, easy-peasy, with no blood, sweat and tears."
I was quiet again.
"But why does it feel that I have no options? Like I'm stuck in a corner?" I asked, my voice breaking.
And my mom snorted again, but her voice was gentle this time.
"Katy, you're young," she rasped. "You're only eighteen, how can you say you have no options? I'm the one with no options, no one wants someone like me with loads of baggage and a history of … well, never mind," she said.
"What I mean is that the world is your oyster and all you have to do is reach out your hand and take it. There are two men who love you and you love them too. So what do you mean by no options? You've got so many options, it's crazy, you shouldn't be here mopey and sad. Go on, go live your life," she commanded.
But I shook my head miserably again.
"That's the problem exactly," I wailed. "There are two men. What am I gonna do with two men? What are people going to say when they find out about us?"
My mom closed her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose as if a migraine were bursting in her brain.
"Girl," she said wryly, putting her hand over mine and looking at me pointedly. "I'm only gonna say this once, because you know this already. Sure, it matters what people think, but only up to a point. What really, truly matters, is that there are two men who love you, and you love them too. So go and get it! How long do you think they're going to wait? How long do you think you can dilly-dally, moping like a wet rag, pulling your hair out while they sit and grow restless? You think you're so special, a unique star, the one and only gift to mankind?"