Page 51 of The Fake
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My mother calls just as I pull into the Prickly Pear Monday night. I’ve been dodging her calls for the past few weeks, but I know I can’t avoid her forever.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, killing the engine.
“Well, it’s about time. Your father was prepared to borrow the Johnson’s jet to come see you if you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry, Mom. I’ve been busy.”
She knows it’s a cop-out, but she doesn’t call me on it. “I have news.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“We talked to the university, and they’ve agreed to reverse your expulsion. Isn’t that great?”
“How?”
“Your father told you he’d take care of it; he took care of it. Do you want us to fly out to help you move or we could hire a moving company and you could drive back this weekend?” She continues making plans for my assumed return to California.
“Mom, wait. I don’t understand. How did this happen?” A little thrill runs through me at the prospect of going back to my old life, but just as quickly it vanishes, knowing there’s no going back. That life is gone for good.
“Chloe, the details aren’t important.”
A heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach. “Mom?”
“We made a donation to the school to add a covered parking lot on—”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, I’m quite serious.”
“No, I mean, I am flabbergasted that after everything that went down, you two would think buying my way back in would make me happy. Did you learn nothing?”
A fine and a slap on the wrist is all the repercussions my parents faced for buying my way in, and I can’t help but wonder if they realize how much more I was impacted since they got off basically scot-free.
“Stop being melodramatic. Chancellor Tomason understands that your father and I only want what’s best for you. The gift was not contingent on your re-acceptance.”
“Oh, well, then it’s perfectly fine.” I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Mom, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not coming back.”
“Chloe—”
“No, Mom. I need to deal with this my way. It’s important to me to do this on my own. You can’t buy me back.”
She starts to speak again, but my mother knows just when to turn on the doting mother switch and I can’t handle it today. “I love you, and I forgive you. I know you were doing what you thought was best, but I’m not coming home like this.”
I hang up and let my shoulders droop. Unsurprisingly, she can’t let me get the last word. I open the text message and hold my breath.
Mom: Just think about it. We miss you.
Me: I’m not going to change my mind. I miss you too.
And because I feel guilty for going against them when they’ve always tried to give me the world, I send one more text.
Me: I love you. I’ll call soon.
I walk inside the bar, a bundle of nerves. I’m anxious about making friends with my fake boyfriend’s best friend. Attaching myself to anyone associated with Nathan feels risky, but I miss having friends.
Camila and I text almost every day, but it’s not the same as having friends to do things with. Nights watching TV, weekends getting dressed up and going out, hanging out on campus and re-telling stories from drunken nights… I miss having all of that.
