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She said ‘West Virginia’ like it was some kind of venereal disease. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my parents forgot where they came from. “It’s really good. You’re up early.”
“It’s Sunday. Theo has insisted on doing an early brunch with your Father at the Club. Otherwise I would not be up at this time.”
Theo? I plopped down on the couch, my mouth hanging open. For the love of little babies everywhere, Theo was Blaine’s father. My parents, they were such… fuckers.
“Avery, are you there?” Impatience filled her tone.
“Yes. I’m here.” I grabbed a pillow and shoved it in my lap. “You’re going to have brunch with Mr. Fitzgerald?”
“Yes.”
And that was all she said to that. Yes. Like it was no big deal. The Fitzgerald’s paid the Morgansten’s off and I was labeled a lying whore, but it was all good in the hood, because they all could still have brunch at the club.
“How is school?” she asked, but she sounded bored. She was probably surfing the Internet for her next cosmetic procedure. “Avery?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “School is perfect. West Virginia is perfect. Everything is perfect.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. After everything you put us through—”
“Everything I put you through?” I was living in an alternate universe.
“And still putting us through,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken a word. “You’re clear across the country, going to some little university in West Virginia instead of—”
“There’s nothing wrong with this school, Mom, or West Virginia. You were born in Ohio. Not that different—”
“That is something I try not to remember.” Her huff was pretty epic. “Which brings me to the point of this call.”
Thank God, baby Jesus, and the Holy Ghost.
“You need to come home.”
“What?” I clenched the pillow to my chest.
She sighed. “You need to stop playing around and come home, Avery. You’ve made your point quite clear by up and doing something as childish as this.”
“Childish? Mom, I hated being there—”
“And who do you have to blame for that, Avery?” Some of the coolness slipped from her voice.
My mouth dropped open. This wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that. Not by a long shot, but it was like a punch in the chest. I stared at the window, shaking my head slowly.
“We only want the best for you,” she began again, regaining the cool aloofness with a line of pure bullshit. “That’s all we’ve wanted and the best thing for you to do is to come home.”
I started to laugh, but it got stuck in my throat. Coming home was in my best interest? The woman was crazy. Just talking to her made it feel like I got the crazy on me.
“Some things have happened here,” she added, and then cleared her throat. “You should come home.”
How many times had I done what they wanted? Too many times, but this was one time I couldn’t back down. Going home was equivalent to sticking my head in a meat grinder and then asking why it hurt. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. “No.”
“Excuse me?” My mother’s voice turned shrill.
“I said, no. I’m not coming back home.”
“Avery Samantha Morgan—”
“I’ve got to go. It was nice talking to you, Mom. Goodbye.” And then I hung up the phone before she could say anything else. I placed the cell on the coffee table and waited.
One minute went by, two minutes, and then five minutes. Letting out a sigh of relief, I collapsed against the couch. I shook my head, literally blown away by the conversation. My mother was insane. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. What a way to start a Sunday morning.
