Call It What You Want(91)

“That’s why you stayed friendly with them,” I murmur. “That’s why you kept asking about Connor.”

“Yes.” Her voice breaks. “It was so hard. You have no idea how hard. And now I’ve got this job, and every time I leave here, I see how it could be. I could have a life. I could have friends. But I can’t. I’m stuck here, because otherwise I lose what little I have left.”

“Is that why you’ve been drinking so much?”

“I wouldn’t classify it as so much.”

I give her a look.

She sighs. “I mentioned to my boss how much I liked the first bottle, so he brought me another, and then we went out to dinner—”

“You went out to dinner?”

“As friends! Just as friends.” She sniffs hard and mops at her face. “I’ve been so lonely, Rob. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be so lonely?”

“Yes!” I snap. Dad jerks in his sleep, and I lower my voice. “Yes, I do.” I grit my teeth and glare at her. “Do you have any idea what my life is like?” She doesn’t answer that, and I power on. “You get to run out of here when Dad is too much for you, but I’m the one left behind. Do you know what that is like?”

She flinches, but I keep going. “Do you have any idea how much I hate that Bill was in on this, and there’s nothing I can do about it? He’s probably still doing it, but if I turn him in, I’m turning in my own mother. Do you have any idea?” I yell.

Dad jerks and moans. He’s waking up. He’s reacting to the yelling.

I don’t care.

Mom looks at him and then back at me. “Please,” she says. “Please stop. Please understand.”

Dad’s moaning is rising in volume.

I ignore him. It takes everything I have, but I ignore him.

“You didn’t want to lose me, Mom? Well, too bad. You’ve lost me.”

“Rob—”

I don’t listen to what she says.

For once, I’m the one who gets to walk out.



It’s after ten, but I know Wegmans will be open. I dig for change in the center console of my car and buy a cup of coffee, then dump a ton of cream and sugar into it.

When I turn from the counter to head for the shadowed alcove under the stairs, I discover one chair is occupied.

Maegan stares up at me in surprise. “Rob.”

I’m so thrown that I stand there like an idiot, holding my coffee. “Maegan.”

We’re trapped in this space, staring at each other. She looks small and hidden, all curled up in the chair in jeans and a green sweater, her hair in a loose braid down over her shoulder.

I shake myself and look away. “Sorry. I’ll go sit somewhere else.”

“No!” She half rises from her chair. “No. Wait.”

I turn back, ready to sit, and I’m surprised when she wraps her arms around me. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

The words are more surprising than the hug, and it takes me a moment to figure out why: I’m not used to anyone worrying about me.

I wrap my arms around her, careful of the coffee, glad to have someone to hold on to. We stand there for a minute or an hour or an eternity.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” she says.

“You aren’t a mess.”

“I have been.” She looks up at me, and tears are sparkling on her lashes.

I didn’t expect that. “You’re crying?” I lift a hand to brush them away.

She makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. “Yeah. I guess. I haven’t been home.”

“You snuck out to Wegmans again?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Now her eyes widen in surprise. “Want to sit?”

We do. I drop into an armchair, and just like Saturday night, she drops into the microscopic space beside me, half sitting in my lap.

I don’t know what’s happened to erase all the tension between us, but after the day I’ve had, I don’t mind at all.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t understand what you and Owen were doing. I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” I say. “And we were wrong.”

“Owen doesn’t think so.”

I turn my head to look at her. Her eyes are so close. We could share breath. “You talked to Owen?”

She blushes. “I couldn’t talk to you. He was worried when you didn’t show up for school, so I told him what happened. I went to his house, and his mom overheard us talking.”

Great. “So, I guess I’m not going to be best friends with Mrs. Goettler anytime soon.”

“She’s not your biggest fan. But I think she feels sorry for you.”

Double great. I grimace, then frown.

“She’s going to make Owen figure out a way to pay for another pair of shoes, and she’s going to return them to replace the ones you guys ordered.” She hesitates. “She spent a lot of time talking about how stealing is wrong, but she doesn’t want to turn Owen in. Or you.”

This is all so complicated. Just like the story Mom told me about Dad. Does it make him better in my eyes? Or worse? He was still stealing. He just didn’t get the chance to pull the plug.