Page 5 of Satan's Spawn
He’s filled a hole left in my mother’s heart, and in the process I’ve been able to focus on my studies and toward my goals for the future.
Potato wobbles into the room at this moment, trying his hardest to lift his chunky ass up on the side of my chair. I lean down and pat his head, where he proceeds to lick my hand.
“Just tell me what you did, mom.”
So I can start figuring out a way to fix it.
She turns to face me, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t do anything, in fact, this was all Roman.”
“Just spit it out, will you? You look like you’re about to burst an artery.”
She inhales a deep breath and licks her lips. “Roman was offered a wonderful opportunity to open up his very own gallery.”
Oh, well, that’s not bad. That actuallyisgood news.
Confidence returning, I retrieve my mug and take a long satisfying sip. “That’s awesome. Where is it? Downtown?”
She squishes her nose. “Yes?”
And just like that, it’s gone again. “What the hell mom? Is it downtown or isn’t it? I have a chihuahua who needs to be walked.”
“It’s downtown, but not in San Diego.”
Okay, so, another part of the county—not my travel, not my problem.
“Chula Vista?” I ask, curious now.
“No, baby.”
Damn it, now I’m determined to guess, and my mother must notice because the nervous laugh is back.
“Oceanside?”
A shake of her head.
Damn it.
I let out a huff, hating when I don’t get answers right the first time.
Potato whimpers, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m cleaning up piss off the floor.
“Whatever, I’m over it. Just tell me where he’s opening this gallery of his.”
Mom looks behind me down the hall, as if checking whether or not Roman is up and approaching.
He’s not, because I can hear the snoring from where I sit, and mom squeezes her hands around the mug as she blinks down at her coffee. “It’s in New York City.”
* * *
“I am not movingto New York. Nope. Not happening.” I pace back and forth in the living room, as both Roman and my mom watch me with careful eyes.
“Bex, listen,” my mother holds her hands out to calm me down, but I don’t let her finish.
“Nuh-huh!” I wiggle my finger at her. “You don’t get to use my nickname when you’re ambushing me with a move across the country.”
We don’t even have any family left there. At least not any that I know of since Mom had a falling out with the majority of them when she took off to California with my dad.
A great uncle Jack was the only relative she still spoke to, and he died last spring from emphysema. The only person going into this move to New York knowing anybody is Roman, and he may be enough for my mother but he’s not for me.
