Crash Course by Wilde Alyssa

Author:Wilde, Alyssa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

The question hangs in the air between us. The chaos outside is violent, rain coming down in sheets, wind wildly shaking the trees, setting me on edge. I won’t be surprised if we lose power tonight.

“Who?” she asks.

“You know who,” I say.

I study her. Even though she wears a baggy sweatshirt and yoga pants, I can tell she’s thinner than the last time I saw her, and not in a healthy way. It’s unclear whether stress has caused her weight loss, or something else. Something drug or alcohol-related. Her pupils aren’t dilated now, though, and she doesn’t have that sluggishness to her movements that signals she’s been drinking. I can’t remember the last time I saw her completely sober, and I wonder how long this will last.

“Oh, I don’t know. A while ago.” I’m conscious of the way she refuses to meet my eyes. “We split up, Arden, and I haven’t spoken to him since. I’ve been staying down the shore, with a friend.”

Looking at her face, I’m unable to deny that she has a dark, almost leathery tan. “Then why did I see him at the gas station on Monroe yesterday?”

She visibly pales. “I...I’m not sure. Maybe it wasn’t him.”

“It was him,” I say, crossing my arms.

She has no response.

“Why is he in town if not to see you?” I demand.

“I don’t know, Arden, okay?” she snaps, and her eyes flash, the Nora I remember finally resurfacing. “You can’t just be happy to see your mother? You have to bombard me with questions and accusations?”

“It’s not my fault I haven’t seen you,” I say coldly. “Or heard from you at all, for that matter.”

She sinks back in the chair, sighing loudly. “Can we just not fight? Just this once?”

“We can stop fighting when you stop lying,” I say, standing. I leave her there and stalk down the hall to my room.

“It hurts me when you act like this,” she calls, but I’m already slamming the door.

I grip my hair at the roots, fighting the urge to scream. Instead, I kick the frame of my bed, and immediately regret the decision when sharp pain shoots up my foot. How dare she just waltz back into my life like I’m in the wrong? How dare she treat me like some overreacting child? How dare she act like I’m being paranoid?

I collapse back onto the bed, so angry that I see red. I have tons of homework to do, but right now all I can manage to do is lie here and let my emotions overtake me. I didn’t think I had any more tears after last night, but boy was I wrong. I curl up into a ball and cry big, violent sobs, and when I finally manage to stop, I crawl under the covers and waste the day away.

That night I keep the door locked. I keep my shoes next to the bed and my wallet on the nightstand, just in case I need to make a quick escape.

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