Page 58 of Bad Crush
“This was fun,” I say.
“It was. Thank you.”
“Any time.” I’ve been waiting for her to tell me what spurred her sudden desire to skip class and come to the arcade, but it looks like I’m going to have to pry for information. “Want to tell me what happened while I was at class this morning?”
She wipes her hands on a napkin and takes a drink before answering. “Caught on to that, huh?”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. Pumped to spend more time with you.”
“I ran into Janine.”
“Oh.” I still don’t know exactly what the story is there. When I passed on Janine’s message last week that Lori was doing well, Reagan shut down and changed the subject. Whoever Lori is, she isn’t a popular topic.
“She still thinks we’re engaged.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell Dr. Salco myself. Janine will find out eventually.”
“I am sorry again for getting so carried away and pulling you into the mess to start with.”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
I think that’s the end of the conversation, and I’m prepared to let it go for now, but Reagan starts talking. “Janine and I have known each other our entire lives. Our moms were friends as kids and stayed close until I was two or three. It’s hard for me to picture. They’re so different.” She says different like it’s a bad word, which has me swallowing and worrying about what that means. “When I was in high school, I actually lived with Janine’s family for almost two years.”
“You did? Why? Where was your family?”
Reagan shrugs. “My mom was in Vegas, mostly. She traveled there for work almost every week. Usually, day trips so she’d be home by bedtime, but then day trips turned to overnight trips because she’d stay at the casinos too long and miss her flight. That turned to her booking extra days so she could sightsee.” Reagan rolls her eyes. “I doubt she ever left the casino floor. After a while, she didn’t even make excuses. I stopped asking when she was coming home, and I guess that gave her the freedom not to care.”
“She just left you to fend for yourself? How old were you?”
Reagan nods. Her face is red, and I can’t tell if she’s on the verge of tears or ready to throw something. “Nine or ten, I guess, the first time she didn’t come home for an entire weekend. It wasn’t just that she was absent. I was pretty self-sufficient, even at an early age. But every year, things seemed to get worse. She gambled away all of her savings, then sold everything we had, which I guess was good because we eventually lost everything else. She got in so deep. I only had a roof over my head because my great aunt left the house in my name.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Sometimes things were great. If she won, we’d splurge and celebrate—make plans for awesome vacations. But of course, before we ever took any, she’d lose it again.” Reagan shrugs. “Eventually, I realized it was going to be on me, and I found creative ways to pay the utilities and basic needs. Recycling cans, doing odd jobs, babysitting, I even did some modeling.”
I get to my feet and move to her side of the table.
“I’m so sorry.” I cradle her against my chest.
“I wanted to tell you the other night when you mentioned her, but it’s so embarrassing. Even now.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t your fault.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I brush her hair away from her face and stroke her cheek.
“Yeah, but I’m still ashamed. It was so humiliating.”
“What about your dad? Other family?”
“I never knew him. He was gone long before I was born, and I was always too scared to press her for details. She got pissed when I asked about him, and she was home so little that I didn’t want to give her any reason to leave. And as for other family, what was I going to say? I didn’t want to tattle on my own mom. I missed her. I just wanted her to be home. I didn’t want anyone else to take me.”
“Fuck.” My chest splits wide open. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Janine says she’s doing better now. She even has a job at my old elementary school.” Reagan snorts. “Ironic, huh?”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
