Page 77 of Before We're More Than Friends
“Good morning, Mom.” I smiled before looking at the counter, where two plates of scrambled eggs and fruit bowls were. “You made us breakfast?”
“I got up earlier than usual and decided to treat ourselves.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t remember the last time Mom had made a meal for us. I opened the fridge to pour myself orange juice before grabbing my food and sitting at the table with Mom.
A few moments later, loud footsteps came down the stairs, followed by faster and louder footsteps. Arielle and Penrose walked into the kitchen. Arielle hadn’t even combed her hair, her pink nightgown covered in what was either drool stains from her or Penrose. She yawned. “Whomade eggs?”
“I did,” Mom said. “Come eat with us.”
“Thanks.” She yawned again and poured herself orange juice, then brought her food to the table. “What’s the occasion?”
“Oh.” Mom let out an awkward laugh, a nervous expression covering her features.
“There’s an occasion?” I asked, a pang of hurt hitting my chest. I knew I should’ve expected it.
“Two different occasions,” Mom said. “Do you want to hear the good one or the hard one?”
“We could use something good for once,” Arielle muttered as she devoured her eggs. “This is delicious.”
“Thank you.” Mom’s cheeks flushed. “I’ve decided that now that it’s just the three of us”—Gosh, those words were a dagger to my heart—“we should put in our best effort to better ourselves. And while you girls have been doing that, I haven’t done my part. Arielle, you sent me some information about some programs I can get into to help me with an addiction.”
“You actually looked at them?” Arielle’s eyes grew wide, hope on her face.
Mom nodded. “I looked through some last night and found one that spoke to me. I haven’t contacted them yet, but I’m looking into it. I just wanted to let you girls know.” Mom stared at her half-eaten plate of eggs. “I know I haven’t been a good mother figure—or much of a mom at all. My addiction is the last thing you guys need to be dealing with right now.”
Arielle muttered something through her bites.
“Swallow first,” I told her.
She held up her hand before gulping the last of her eggs down. She gasped once she finished eating before burping.
“My goodness.” Mom giggled.
“Sorry.” Arielle covered her next burp. “But are you going to follow through, Mom? Or is this just another empty promise?”
“I’m going to follow through,” Mom promised, meeting Arielle’s eyes. “I mean it this time.”
“I’m going to have to see it before I believe it,” Arielle said, taking a sip of her orange juice.
Mom sighed. “I’m not going to fight that. I haven’t earned your trust.” She took a sip of her juice and swallowed heavily. “The other thing I wanted to talk about is your first visit with your dad at April Springs Correctional Facility.”
Arielle choked on the strawberry she was eating. I leaned over and patted her back until she stopped.
Mom fiddled with her wedding ring, the gold reflecting the sunlight from the window. “I think it’s?—”
“Too soon?” Arielle cut in, trying to catch her breath. “He just went to prison last week.”
“I know, but I was thinking?—”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
“Can you please let someone else speak?” Mom snapped, her expression darkening. “I tried to be gentle about this, but you’re already disrespecting me. And I’m tired of it, Arielle. There are two other people in this household, two people who want to move things forward.”
I expected Arielle to fight back with how red her face was, but she bit her lip, not meeting Mom’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m also not ready to see Dad yet,” I said, trying to keep my voice level while tears burned in the back of my eyes. These arguments between Arielle and my parents were getting too old. “It’s still fresh, Mom.”
“It hurts like hell,” Arielle said, her voice trembling as if she was about to cry as well. “He acted like he got in trouble for skipping school and not for a federal crime. The way he acted when telling us . . .” Arielle put her head in her hands. “I can’t see him yet.”
