Page 20 of Drum Me Away
Shit. What the hell was I doing? Had I seriously momentarily forgotten that we weren’t really a couple?
“I can make breakfast,” she said without looking at me.
“I got it,” I said, my voice coming out more gruff than I intended. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re going through some shit right now. So let me take care of you.”
A bark of a laugh burst from her mouth. “Your girlfriend sure is one lucky girl.”
“My what?”
Did she say my girlfriend? As in that mysterious creature who someday in the probably very distant future might actually exist in my life?
“Your girlfriend,” she repeated, glancing my way and flapping her hand like that would somehow help me understand what the hell she was talking about.
“I figure if you treat me this well, you probably treat her about a thousand times better. And that’s pretty freaking awesome,” she said.
I blinked. Once, twice, three times. I furrowed my brow.
Where the hell was she getting this? What made her think I was dating someone? Especially in the last couple weeks. We’d been carrying on this pretend relationship for so long, I’d all but forgotten what it was like to date, for Christ’s sake.
Not to mention my fucking unrequited crush on her. Yeah, I knew she wasn’t aware of that part, but it didn’t matter. Her presumption was baffling.
“Faith, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
CHAPTER8
Faith
Well,that was awkward.
Luckily, my mother called —a state that I would never, ever have thought I’d use in reference to the woman—so I was able to escape before the conversation could go any further.
Not that talking to my mother was ever a picnic, but it was definitely a welcome distraction at the moment.
Until we started speaking, of course, and then I wasn’t sure which conversation I’d prefer more not to have.
“Would you look at that?” she said by way of greeting. “I figured you’d be asleep so early in the morning. Apparently, I should start calling super early rather than later in the evening.”
Since the woman rarely called at all, I wasn’t worried she would hold to that statement.
I motioned to Lucas that I was going to take this call outside and stepped out onto the wraparound deck and leaned on the railing, admiring the 500-foot view of the world. Okay, I had no idea how far up we were, but it was a pretty spectacular view of the trees and mountains and a lake in the not far-off distance.
“I’m just checking to ensure you received my voicemail,” Mother said.
“I did.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
I sighed. “What do you expect me to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something to indicate you are actually sad over your grandmother’s passing.”
I rubbed my temples. My mother had expectations of me— of anyone, really. And those expectations were that I should act exactly the way she wanted me to act. The problem was, she didn’t actually tell me how that was, only that I was doing it wrong.
My sisters handled it by striving harder to meet our mother’s mysterious expectations, while I threw in the towel a long time ago and chose the path of rebellion.
Which had basically gotten me written out of her life, except for these types of circumstances that made it necessary for her to acknowledge my existence.
“I am sad,” I said.
