Page 40 of Fight Or Flight

My face feels like it’s on fire and I bite back the urge to elbow my frail mother for calling me out on my ridiculous reaction to him. Instead, I focus on the television just as he selects American Sniper as his movie of choice, and the ache in my chest returns as he settles back in the chair and takes the popcorn from my lap. I have no idea how we got here; him relaxing in a chair watching a movie with me and my dying mom. But here we are and as strange as it is, it also feels perfectly right which is confusing as hell.

Then again everything about being a teenager is confusing.

Sighing, I make myself comfortable beside my mom as the movie starts and I try like hell not to stare at him. At some point during the movie my mom dozes off, leaving me and Eric watching the Bradley Cooper flick. I finally give into temptation and glance at Eric. I try to picture him in uniform, lacing his boots and running into combat. It’s quite the image, and soon those butterflies dissolve into a sea of dread.

* * *

I must’ve fellasleep during the movie because I woke up this morning beside my mom with a blanket draped over me. She was still sleeping, so I creeped quietly out of her room and went in search of Eric. I guess I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on him, but also for acting so weird. I was still reeling from his confession and watching him immerse himself in that movie made it all too real. Aside from the gazillion other reasons I shouldn’t be crushing on Eric, he was eventually going to leave, and I could not take another loss.

So, the plan was to apologize and then distance myself. No more midnight meetings in the kitchen or spontaneous trips to a pizzeria and definitely no more movies with my mom. But Eric had already left for school and since Lauren burned the cupcakes for Bella’s bake sale, she had to make a quick run to the bakery, leaving Riggs the last man standing.

He made me breakfast and over chocolate chip pancakes he surprised me with a GoPro. I finally got a dose of Riggs’ nerdy side and the two of us busied ourselves making videos with my mom. Things were going great. We were making memories and mom was laughing. But as usual, the bubble burst when the nurse came to check on her.

My mom is in renal failure.

The sand in the hourglass is running out.

Suddenly, the sliding doors open and close behind me and jar me away from obsessing over the harsh truth I received earlier.

“Oh, sorry, Brooklyn, I didn’t realize anyone was out here,” Lauren says as I spin around.

She lifts a bottle of wine to her lips and starts chugging. Having never seen this side of my soon to be guardian, I find myself mildly amused. It's amazing how everyone in this house seems to possess the same talent. You can be at your lowest and somehow, someway, they manage to make you temporarily forget your troubles. They can even get you to smile when your heart feels too heavy.

She lowers the bottle and takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs. Her eyes find mine as she brings the bottle back to her lips, holding it there for a moment.

“This isn’t an everyday occurrence,” she says, pointing to the bottle with her free hand. “I usually opt for a wine glass, but those damn PTA moms did me in today. Everything with them is a competition like anyone really gives a flying fuck if there are caramel chips in the brownies. Get the fuck out of here with that noise.”

She takes another swig and for the first time since the nurse came to deliver the bad news, I don’t feel consumed by my grief. Tucking the bottle between her thighs, she shakes her head and continues with her rant.

“I had to swap the cupcakes out of the bakery box and put them in one of those ridiculous plastic carriers or they’d fucking stone me in the school gym for not baking them myself.” She points a finger at me. “When you have kids don’t let those bitches control you. Buy the cupcakes and hold that bakery box proud, you’ll be doing a service to women everywhere.”

I smile at her.

“I promise I’ll buy the cupcakes.”

She returns the gesture and pats the empty chair next to her.

“I’ll drive you to the bakery,” she adds. “We’ll show those crazy broads up together.”

I try to imagine it. Me as a mom, calling Lauren to help me snag some baked goods for my kid’s bake sale. The image comes as easily as the one of Eric in uniform did, and a bunch of questions run rapidly through my head. Is it strange that I can see it? That I can see her standing next to me instead of my own mom? Have I already found a place in my heart for them? Is that why it’s so easy for me to imagine my future with them?

“I’m such a shit,” Lauren groans. “Here I am complaining about cupcakes and the parent-teacher association when I should be holding my arms out to you, asking what I can do to make you feel better.”

Meeting her concerned gaze, I shake my head.

“I’d much rather talk about the bake sale if that’s okay,” I say.

Sometimes a person doesn’t need to be coddled, sometimes they need a distraction from the pain.

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