The Art of Losing(63)

I headed for my room when I got inside. Mom followed me upstairs.

“Do you have a minute, Harley?” she asked. She was already walking into my room, sitting next to me on the bed. It wasn’t really a question.

I held in the sigh that was my innate response and paused my music.

Recognizing that as an invitation, Mom continued: “I think this conversation is long overdue.” A knot of dread took up residence in my stomach. “I’m concerned about the people, the influences, in your life right now. And the choices you’re making.”

She held up a hand to stave off my interruption, as if she could sense that my mouth was about to open. “What happened to your sister is a wake-up call for your father and me, and we think we’ve been too lax with the rules in this house. We never should have let you go to the party at Cassidy’s house without talking to her parents and making sure they were home.”

They were pretty strict, as far as I was concerned, but she wasn’t wrong that she should have checked. I’d been banking on the fact that she wouldn’t because she knew Cassidy so well.

“But you should have told us,” she said. “And you never should have brought your sister.”

I wanted to argue that Audrey could have told her about the lack of chaperones, too, but I wanted to focus on who she thought I was seeing who was a bad influence. Aside from Cassidy and Ryan, I had barely even spoken to my friends. Or Mike’s friends.

“But I broke up with Mike,” I said. “I haven’t even seen him since he got back from rehab.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not talking about Mike.”

And finally I realized who she meant.

“You’ve been talking to Mrs. Juarez, haven’t you?” I said. I could feel the scowl on my face.

“Yes,” she said. “And she told me that you and Rafael have been spending a lot more time together than I realized. Apparently, he actually talks to his mother.”

I knew that, but it didn’t make it any less cute that he had told his mom about me. I tried not to smile, though. Mom was clearly not in the mood.

“She told me about Rafael’s rehab and how he had to be cut off from his friends from his old life,” she continued.

Raf had told me about his friends and they sounded a lot like my friends. We weren’t good kids, but we weren’t bad either. We threw parties; we snuck out of our houses; we drank and smoked the occasional cigarette, sometimes weed. But we also made curfew, made Honor Roll, made breakfast for our moms on Mother’s Day.

“And you want me to do the same,” I said.

She seemed to consider her next words carefully. “I want you to cut yourself off from anyone who is a bad influence on you. That’s all.”

I felt myself about to tip over the edge into fury. I tried to reel myself back in. “That’s all?” I said. I could hear the tiny tremor in my voice. “What you’re really asking me to do is cut ties with Raf, who, as you just pointed out, just lost all of the friends he’s ever had.”

“Rafael is an alcoholic and a drug addict, Harley,” Mom said, her voice now teeming with anger. “I don’t see how he’s good for you. Especially not now, with all you went through with Mike. After all we’ve been through. I have to be sure you’re making the right choices here.”

And I just snapped like a brittle twig under a heavy boot. I could almost hear it.

“Mom, Raf is trying to get his life together!” I yelled. “Can you at least give him a chance to do that before you start deciding what kind of person he is? At least he’s not cheating on me with my sister like my last boyfriend did!”

Mom looked like I had slapped her. And I guess I sort of had. I’d slapped her with the news that her baby daughter wasn’t perfect. And that I’d failed to protect her.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered.

But my throat had closed up, burning with the tears that I was trying not to cry. I shook my head instead.

“Oh, baby duck, come here,” Mom said, gathering me into her arms. We were the same height, but I had at least forty pounds on her. And yet she pulled me close and held me, rocking me like I was in her lap.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” she whispered, even though I could hear her rage. “You didn’t deserve that.”

I wept loudly and wetly against her shoulder, ruining her silk blouse. She didn’t stop me. I cried for Audrey and what she’d done to me. I cried for what I’d done to her. Because after years of feeling less important than nearly anything else in my life, Audrey had done something she knew would get my attention. And it ended up hurting her so much worse than it would ever hurt me.

When my breathing grew steadier and my tears had slowed, Mom wiped my cheeks and looked me in the eye.

“What happened?” she asked. I could tell that she was trying really hard to keep it together, and I had to give her a lot of credit for staying so calm.

So I told her. Everything. By the end, I was crying again. “I’m sorry,” I said, sobbing. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to think of Audrey like that.”

Mom shook her head. “No, baby, no,” she said. “You shouldn’t have had to carry this alone for all this time.”

“It’s so humiliating,” I said. “And I’m so angry.”