Page 94 of Lovesick
“Does this boy treat her right? Does she really like him?”
An equinox of guilt and despair kickstart my heart rate. Guilt for not being truthful with my mom (even now), and despair for realizing that I’ve wasted all this time trying to earn my parents’ approval when the only approval that mattered was Crew’s.
“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. He treats her like she’s the only girl in the world, and he’s done nothing but be there for her, even when she’s done everything to push him away. He values her vulnerability just as much as her strength. He offers her help not because she’s incapable, but because he wants to make her life easier. From what I’ve heard, she really likes him. A lot.”
A smile rucks up the corners of her lips. “Has she told herparents what you just told me? About how much he means to her?”
If only it was that easy.
Girding myself, I stuff my hands in my pockets. “No. She—she doesn’t want to upset anyone.”
“But what if her parents do understand? What if the only person she ends up upsetting is herself?”
“But what if they don’t? What if she strains the relationship between him and her father? What if she just makes everything worse by being selfish?” I blabber, anguish tossing my belly.
My mom pats the mattress in a voiceless request for me to sit, and when I do, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Even after I’ve been horrible to her, there’s still enough love in her heart that I can feel it in her touch, see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.
It’s taking everything in me not to burst into tears.
“You’re not talking about a friend, are you?”
Fear surfs over me with outstretched talons, nicking my skin—accosting the crudely constructed palisade that’s supposed to keep my soft heart from scarring again. It’s not like I was doing a great job at posing the hypothetical, but I didn’t expect her to connect the dots so quickly. As terrified as I am to finally speak the truth, I’m more terrified about returning to an active warzone.
All I want to do is reinstate some kind of normalcy in a house that was destroyed from the inside out. My buildup of betrayal has already deteriorated our familial values and the brassbound connection we once had. I never used to keep secrets from my parents. We existed in this utopia that I no longer have the key to. I feel so lost. I feel so alone.
I can’t keep doing this. I don’t have it in me.
“I fucked up, Mom,” I confess, and it feels like there’s a tar pit waiting inside me to trap my body, slick my bones in stickyasphalt, and preserve every negative emotion so I’m forever stuck in this limbo of misery.
She strokes the side of my face with her hand, understanding nestled in the green wilderness of her eyes. People tell me that I look like my dad. My mother and I could be from two different families, but she’s always been the one who understands me more.
“Is this about Crew?”
A sob spills out from between my teeth. “How did you know?”
“I notice a lot more than you think I do. The way you two looked at each other over dinner, his car being parked across the street on more than one occasion.”
Maybe it’s the leftover high from coming clean, but my power gauge is tipping into the reddest of reds, and the sting in my eyes isn’t a good sign.
“I never wanted to cause any problems.” I sniff, unable to stop a single tear from cascading down my cheek.
My mother uses her thumb to mop up the moisture, looking at me like I’m still her whole world—like I’m still her baby girl.
“You haven’t caused any problems, honey. When you’re ready to tell your dad, he’s going to come around. And just know that I’ll always support you, okay? All I’ve ever wanted for you is to find happiness. Nothing you say or do will ever make me love you any less.”
My temperament is mercurial. I can pretend to be this badass who paves her own future, but deep down, I’m just a scared little girl who wants to make her parents proud. “But Dad won’t come around. He’ll hate me! He’ll hate Crew!”
My dad will never understand. He’d make Crew’s life a living hell, and Crew doesn’t have anyone. My father respects him so much. They have an unbreakable bond that mostcoaches and players never achieve, and I don’t want to be responsible for ruining that.
“You don’t know that. I know he drew some harsh boundaries that first dinner, but he’s just trying to protect you. Keeping this from him…it isn’t the answer. He’s going to be more hurt that you lied to him than by the fact that you’re seeing his player.”
My mother is right. I’m making things worse by stretching this out. I need to come clean on my own. For myself, for my father,for Crew. If my mom is this understanding, then I’m not giving my dad the benefit of the doubt.
My mouth knots into a frown. “You’re right. And I’m sorry for being so terrible to you these past few weeks.”
“I’m sorry for being so hard on you about partying, Merit. I just…I worry about you so much. I want you to live your life, but I’ll never stop being your mom.”
I fall apart in her arms, sobbing and babbling and making zero sense, but neither my hysteria nor my runny nose deters her. She hugs me for what feels like the first time in forever, siphoning all my pain so that I can sip in a clean, fresh breath of air.
