I'm Glad My Mom Died(44)

Now he’s touching me. The way he’s touching me. This is another level. Or so I assume. I’ve never been touched like this before, so I don’t know exactly. Sure, there was the kiss with Lucas at the Hampton Inn, but since then, romance has been nonexistent in my life. All I know is that this feels like more than just a friendly touch. My whole body tingles when his hand lands on my back. The sensation is exhilarating and overwhelming and scary. In this moment, I know that one way or another, we’re going to be together.





44.


“MIRANDA AND I WERE GONNA have a sleepover,” I lie as I fix Mom and me a plate of steamed vegetables for “dinner.” I already ate dinner earlier on set and felt awful about it. I’m too ashamed to tell Mom.

“What am I gonna do alone without you?” Mom asks genuinely, fighting back tears. “I’ll miss you more than anything. I just love you so much, Net.”

“I’ll miss you too, Mommy. This is just something Miranda and I have been planning for a while.” I lie twice with this one.

The first lie is that I’ll miss her. I won’t miss her. I will be happy to have space from her. She’s been sleeping in my bed every night since we moved into my not-solo apartment and it’s hard to sleep because she clings to me all night long.

The second lie is that Miranda and I are having a sleepover. We have sleepovers every couple of weeks, but not tonight. Tonight, Joe is going to stay with me. But Mom can’t know about Joe because Mom would never approve. Mom only approves of me hanging out with two types of boys—Mormons and gays. And even then she wants to supervise the hangout. “Just because a boy reads Third Nephi…”

I set the plate of steamed vegetables in front of Mom. She pokes at a cube of squash before forking it into her mouth.

“Yeah, but I need you right now, Net,” Mom says, looking down.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I say gently, hoping this will comfort her enough for us to be able to move on from the topic. There’s a long pause where I wait for Mom to say something. She looks off and her eyes glaze with an intensity that seems dissociative. It scares me. Just as I’m about to ask her what’s going on, she snaps her head toward me, picks the TV remote up off the coffee table, and chucks it at my head. I duck aside to avoid it.

“You’re LYING to me, you LIAR,” Mom says, spitting as her face contorts. “I’m gonna find out what’s going on. Mark my words, you FILTHY LITTLE LYING WHORE.”

Mom’s been harsh with me before, but she’s never spoken to me like this.

“And you better bet your ass I’ll be able to sniff the lies on you tomorrow when you come back,” she says dramatically. It’s obvious to me how much Mom wanted to be an actress. “Right, Mark?”

Mom whips her head around to my dad, who has been here the whole time not saying a word, as usual. He nods quickly, scared of her wrath. Fed up, I grab my backpack and start to head out.

“I’m gonna figure out what you’re up to, you LIAR!” Mom screams. My nervous system jolts, but I pretend to ignore her. I head out the front door, letting it slam shut behind me.



* * *



Joe picks me up on the corner of Sunset and Vine. The passenger door on his Ford Taurus is slammed in and jammed shut from a years-old accident, so I crawl over him in the driver’s seat to sit down in the passenger seat. I’m still shaking from the interaction with Mom. I look at Joe.

His eyes are glassy. There’s a sweet/rotten smell radiating off him. I’m disappointed. Tonight was supposed to be our first night together as an official couple. I wanted it to be romantic and magical and momentous. Instead, Joe’s sad and drunk and I’m trying hard to resist the disillusionment.

“Did you do it?” I ask anxiously.

“Yes, I broke up with her. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he says, his words slurring.

“Right… how are you?”

He snort-laughs. “How do you think I am?”

Joe looks down, like he feels bad for snapping. This side of him comes out when he’s drunk. He starts driving to the Sheraton Universal where I booked us a room. I’m concerned that he’s driving while drunk, but I fear bringing this up because I know it will make him more erratic.

By the time Joe gets us there and we get to our room, it’s past midnight. Joe tries to get the key into the key slot but he’s too wobbly, so I take the key and shove it in.

“I could’ve done it,” he says.

Joe stumbles in after me and immediately collapses onto the bed. At first I think he must be really tired, until he rolls over onto his back and I can see that there are tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest heaves. He makes that gross hiccup-y cry sound.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?”

“What have I done? What have I dooooone!” he sobs. “We were together for five years. Five years. We just moved in together, we were gonna get married.”

I lie down next to him and hug him. I’m the big spoon. He rattles on about his regret and remorse. If I were good enough, he wouldn’t be feeling this way. He wouldn’t be sad.

“I thought you wanted this,” I say, looking for reassurance.

“You won’t even have sex with me!” he wails.