Mended: A Salvation Society Novel by Gabrielle G. & Salvation Society

Author:Gabrielle G. & Salvation Society [G., Gabrielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Thorns Press
Published: 2020-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

TESSA

I grin reading the text Oliver sent me.

Oliver: See you tonight, Blue-hair. Can’t wait.

I never thought a few words would make me so giddy, but seeing his name on my screen makes me as dizzy as a teenage-virgin finding her clit for the first time.

“You look happy,” my mother says with a hint of curiosity in her voice. I lift my eyes from my screen to find her studying me, her hips leaning against the bar and her short but perfectly manicured nails tapping on her forearms. My mother is the perfect wife you need by your side to advance your career.

Dinner parties, interior decoration, smiles and light conversation are her forte.

You can throw anything at her, and you wouldn’t even see her chin tremble in public.

She doesn’t tremble much in private either.

“Just something Ashton sent me.” Trying to stop the interrogation I feel coming, I walk away from her and get a glass from the cupboard to fill it with tap water.

“I think it’s the therapy,” she says, coming closer to me. She takes the glass of water from my hand, opens the fridge and fills it with the cucumber water she swears by. According to her, if she still looks so young at her age—which has to be determined, no one knows anymore— it’s because of her flavored waters. Staying hydrated is half the battle, she likes to say to whomever wants to hear it.

I hate vegetables in my drink but it doesn’t matter.

Who I am and what I want never really counted for my mother as long as I followed the plan Andre and her led for me to take since they gave me the opportunity to become an engineer.

I always fulfilled my side of the bargain, at least until King died.

“Maybe,” I reply to not dismiss the little effort she’s making of having an interest in my life. As I came to talk to her about what Oliver discovered—or should I say the lack of—I need to make nice if I want some answers. My mother is the queen of avoidance, and every conversation needs to be steered carefully where you want it to if you want her to tell you what you need. It’s exhausting, but it’s the only way I know how to communicate with her. I often wish I could have the relationship my sister has with her. If only I was more tamed and obedient and not allergic to her bullshit. “I went only once but it helped already. I have this exercise to do. Every day I need to tell someone about King’s death to accept it. Or interiorize it or some shit—”

“Language…”

“Yes mother, I’m sorry.” I smile and go on, avoiding rolling my eyes, “Anyway, I need to repeat the story over and over and it has helped me.” She gestures for me to drink the evil water and in the spirit to avoid another lecture about my skin, I do.

“Who have you told?” She asks while I try not to keep the flavored water down.

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