Page 38 of Grease Monkey
Mom laughs. “Do you really think I’d continue to let him chauffeur you around?” I part my lips to speak, to argue that I would get a ride with myboyfriendif I wanted, but she turns and marches toward the door. “Now get changed. You’re not going to school dressed like that.”
I ball my hands into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands as frustration bleeds from my pores. My muscles are tight, my throat is burning, and I want to kick and scream and tell her to… to… fuck off.
Slamming my textbook closed, I shove it in my satchel and quickly get changed into my uniform. Storming down the stairs, I stand in the hallway watching Mom in the kitchen as she pulls out a trash bag and shoves my shirt and the clothes Teddy gave me when I used his shower inside before disappearing out the backdoor. If she thinks I won’t go in that trash straight after school, she’s an idiot. And if she thinks her little chat has influenced me in any way to stop being with Teddy, then she clearly underestimates me.
Is this why Skip left? Did he fall in love with some girl Mom didn’t find acceptable?
I’m chewing on my bottom lip when Mom comes back inside, her heels creating a dull echo in my brain as I wonder if this is how my brother felt. Hurt, betrayed, confused, angry. Parents are supposed to support their children, not issue ultimatums. She opens the front door and makes her way to her silver Mercedes as I lock up and follow. Teddy bounds down his porch steps at the same time as my mom clicks her keys, and her car lights up with a loudbeep.
Teddy smiles wide and bright, but it drops the moment I give my head a sharp shake. A frown creases his brows as he raises his hand to wave instead.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Adler,” he calls, his voice strained as he looks over at me. “Hey, Ana.”
Mom tosses her handbag inside the car with such force that it bounces across to the passenger seat and falls to the footwell, the contents scattering across the floor mat.
“Theodore, her name is Morgana, and I’d appreciate it if you were to call her by her proper name.”
Teddy scrubs a hand across his stubbled jaw, curbing a smirk. “My apologies, Mrs. Adler.” He turns to his Mustang and manually unlocks it. The door opens with an obnoxious creak, and he chucks in his jacket. He spins slightly with a foot on the ledge, staring directly at my mother. “The same then applies to you.”
“Excuse me?” Mom sneers.
Please just leave it, Mom.
“Teddy. The name on my birth certificate is Teddy, not Theodore.” He looks over the yard and shoots me a wink before getting into his car and starting it with a roar. Mom stands, dumbfounded, as he tears out of his driveway and down the street.
“Get in the car, Morgana.”
Silently, I slide into the back and pull out my phone when it vibrates in my bag.
Teddy:What climbed up her ass?
Morgana:I’m so sorry about her.
Teddy:Are you okay?
Morgana:Can we not talk about it?
Teddy:Ana…
Morgana:I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later.
I close the thread and open a new one with my brother.
Morgana:Can you call me? I really need to talk to you.
Later that night, when Mom goes to bed, I sneak downstairs and slip out the kitchen door. I jump as the automatic backlight flashes on, and I curse myself for being so damn forgetful. Stealth mode clearly isn’t my forte. Cringing, I open the lid to the large trash can, gagging as one of the rubbish bags spills open, the rancid smell of whatever the chef cooked three days ago, turning my stomach. I turn my head over my shoulder and fill my lungs before holding my breath and digging deeper until I find the bag mom threw away earlier.
Thankfully, it’s sealed and dirt free as I pull it out, quickly replacing it with a decoy bag filled with a couple of Skip’s old clothes in its place, just in case Mom is psycho enough to check I hadn’t done exactly as I am doing right now. Once back inside, I pause outside Skip’s room. Biting my thumbnail, I glance toward Mom’s bedroom door, darkness shadowing the gap at the bottom, and then I quickly twist the handle and step inside. Pressing my back to the door, I inhale, a sudden wave of sadness taking over me as Skip’s scent fills my lungs. For someone who never speaks to her son, Mom refuses to touch this room. When Dad suggested it, they didn’t speak for a week.
Thankful for this one thing she holds on to, I walk across the room to his chest of drawers, opening the bottom one and shifting some clothes from the top of the pile and tucking Teddy’s hoodie, sweats, and my Pink Floyd t-shirt inside. I pause on Skip’s old basketball jersey, my fingers circling the New York Knicks emblem before sliding the drawer shut and disappearing back into my room, feeling a mixture of heartache and relief as I drift to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Morgana
May
The smell of the evening sun filters through the Mustang’s open window as we drive to Stamford. Teddy’s arm rests casually against the doorframe, his free hand linked with mine, and propped up on the gear stick. We don’t speak, enjoying the company in blissful silence after not being with each other for a while. I have one more exam, taking up most of my evenings with studying, and Mom has been the Devil. I swear she’s enjoying making my life miserable, monitoring my every move with shrewd interest. We’ve barely spoken since our argument, only interacting when needed; her running me to school—without Shay—collecting me at the end of the day like some kindergartener. Then we drive home in silence, eat in silence, and I excuse myself to study for the final exam of my high school career.
