A Missing Heart(15)
“I’m trying my hardest,” she says.
“Try f*cking harder,” I snap at her.
Considering the fact that I can count the number of times I’ve sworn at Tori on one finger, the one time being right this second, she looks baffled. “I can’t,” she says, through gritted teeth.
It’s not like I haven’t had these thoughts about her too, but I was hoping it was all in my head. When people say they don’t plan to have kids, maybe they don’t all mean it, but some do. I think Tori definitely meant it and for a reason she never gave me. In fairness, my reason for not wanting kids was never exactly mentioned either.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWELVE YEARS AGO
FIVE DAYS HAVE done nothing to ease my anger or pain, and I’m not sure I will ever feel differently. I’ve debated calling Cammy every second since I was dragged out of her hospital room, but I don’t know what to say. Well, I do have something to say, but it will probably make things worse. However, if I don’t clear my mind soon, I’m afraid I might completely implode, and if I come any closer to breaking, Mom might lock me in a room and corner me until I tell her every single one of the dark secrets I’ve been keeping from her this year.
With the image of that actually happening, I act on the decision I’ve been debating since the moment I woke up this morning. I grab my coat from the closet and quietly open the front door. “AJ, is that you?” Mom calls out from the kitchen.
“Nope,” I shout back.
“Andrew,” she laments. Mom pulled out the full name…she knows something’s up. “Come in here for a moment, please.”
I roll my eyes and clench my coat tightly within my fist as I turn the corner and walk into our aged kitchen. “What’s up, Mom?”
She wipes her hands off on a dish rag, turns around, and leans her back up against the counter. Her arms slowly fold over her chest, and her eyes narrow in on me. “You have been my son for seventeen years, and not once have you locked yourself in your room for four days straight, which tells me something is going on or something has happened, so what is it?”
I might be what everyone calls a wiseass, but one thing I’ve never done is lie to either of my parents. I’ve never had anything to lie about before. “I’m just stressed-out, no biggie,” I tell her.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and tilts her head to the side, her gaze blazing into me as if she’s summoning all of my thoughts. “I’ve seen you stressed-out—football tryouts, your internship interview last year, midterms, finals, and college applications. But it’s the end of your senior year, you have a scholarship to your college of choice, and a girl…a friend who idolizes the ground you walk on—speaking of which, I haven’t seen Cammy for a while, is everything still okay with her? Is that what this is all about, sweetie? Did you two have a fight? Because it’s normal for friends to fight. I’m sure it must be stressful thinking about going to school in different states. You said she got into George Washington University, right? University of Rhode Island is only an eight-or-so-hour drive; you can still see each other during holidays and vacations back at home. Your father and I made it work, and your brother and Ellie are sticking it out, so I’m sure you can—”
“Mom…” I interrupt her. “Please stop. We’re just friends, like I’ve told you a million times.” Hunter and Ellie have basically been married since they were eight years old, so there’s no surprise there. Plus, their colleges are less than an hour away from each other. Doesn’t count as long distance.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Well, if you’re feeling unwell about this situation, maybe it means you might feel a little more strongly for her than you think.” More strongly than I think because, I ah, knocked her up. Oh, and then she decided to give our daughter away without discussing it with me. I’m pretty sure that might be worse than an argument between friends.
“I guess we are in some kind of fight, and I might owe her an apology, so I was going over to her house to talk about it.” There, not a lie.
“I see,” Mom says. “Well, tell her parents I say hello. Actually, wait a second.” Mom turns around and takes a loaf of bread from the cooling rack on the top of the stove. “Juuuust one second.” She retrieves a thin towel from the cabinet above her head and wraps the loaf up. “Take this to them.” Mom hands me the bread, and all I can think about is the conversation I should have with her parents—that being: Hey Mr. and Mrs. Sky, I impregnated your daughter. This was all my fault, even though she’s hidden the truth from you and everyone we know for the past nine months. However, I’d like to offer you some bread in exchange for your forgiveness. “I do wish I had been given the chance to spend some time with Cammy’s parents.” I would have liked to spend time with Cammy’s parents too, but that never happened before she got pregnant and it definitely didn’t happen after she got pregnant. Friends, boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever, it’s been two years, and they wouldn’t know who I was if they were standing right in front of me.
“They work a lot,” I tell Mom.
“That’s too bad,” she says. Mom has a different mindset than a lot of my friends’ parents. It seems like the housewife/stay-at-home-mother lifestyle is a thing of the past around this area. Most of my friends have two working parents with how high the cost of living is here. I think the only reason Mom doesn’t have to work is because Dad won some lawsuit twenty years ago and paid the house off. Plus, Dad works absurd hours, and his carpentry business is the biggest in this district. Still, we don’t live like gold or anything, but we’re comfortable and we have food on the table, as well as a roof over our heads. We may only be considered middle-class compared to the high-income families here, but I don’t see it as an issue.