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My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, only to see Mom flashing on the screen. It’s still only been a week since Jett proposed, which means there is only one reason for her calling me every day. But it won’t stop until I get it over with.
“I’m taking this,” I call to Blake, who is shelving the newly cleaned towels.
“Hi mom,” I say, trying to hide the dread in my voice as I step into the break room.
“Geeze Libby. Don’t try to act happy to talk to me or anything. I’m just your mother.” It’s always guilt trips and a victim mentality with her. Which is one of the reasons I keep our contact to a minimum.
“Sorry mom, I'm just closing up at work. What’s up?”
“What’s up? How about the fact that my daughter got engaged and didn’t even have the decency to call her mother and tell her?” And here we go.
“I didn’t get engaged, mom. There was nothing to call and tell.” We don’t exactly have the kind of relationship where I would call her crying to talk about what happened.
“Well, that’s not what Jett told me.” Jett. His name alone brings back eerie memories from the night at his house. Memories I had been suppressing since that night.
“Jett stop. Get off me.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
The memories are black and fragmented. And I have no desire to relive them while talking to my mother.
“And what exactly did he have to say?” It pisses me off that they’ve always been buddies. He knew how broken mine and my mom’s relationship was, yet he always answered her calls, went out of his way to text her, and they even had lunch together every few weeks.
“That he proposed to you, which I’m not happy he did it without me there, so don’t think he’s getting off scotch free either,” she says as if she’s everyone’s mother. But in reality, she is the furthest thing. “But he said you left him, Elizabeth. What kind of woman walks out on a perfectly fine marriage proposal?”
“A woman who doesn’t want one.” But she can’t understand that because my mother doesn’t know how to turn down an offer of any kind.
“You said yes, Libby. You can’t say you don’t want to be married if you say yes to the question.” I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut and walked away. Not that I wouldn’t still be dealing with the aftermath of walking out on Jett, but I wouldn't have the added complication of stupidly saying yes — or okay.
“Right, but I took it back, and we broke things off. It’s all done and over with now and I’d like to just move on.”
“It’s not that simple. You’ve made a mess, little girl. This affects more than just you. Don’t be so selfish. You need to be mature and go back to your fiancé instead of hiding away at Blake’s. She’s never been a good influence on you.” And there goes any progress we have made in the last few years. She still sees me as her child, who she can talk down to and order around. Blaming Blake is nothing new either. She’s always had it out for her. For giving me an escape from my home life. An escape from my mother.
“How is doing what’s best for me, selfish? I’m not hurting anyone.” Who cares that staying with Jett was hurting me? No, she doesn't care about that. Those two are peas in a damn pod, both just caring about how things look.
“Bullshit,” she snaps. She takes a moment, then sighs. “I was going to let this be a surprise, so thanks for ruining it, but there’s some money set aside for you. A lot of money. But your grandma set it up so you only get it once you’re married. You’d be smart to take this chance that Jett is giving you. It could set you two up for life.”
I haven't heard anything about money before. She says she wanted it to be a surprise, but my mom doesn’t have a thoughtful bone in her body, so it’s hard to believe anything she says. “Alright mom, I have to go. I need to get back to work.” There’s only so much I can take from her.
“Sure, Libby. Call me tomorrow.” And with that, I get off the phone with no intention of calling her.
When I make it back to my station, I lay my phone down so I can put away my disinfected tools. I find Blake sitting in my chair, scrolling on her phone. “Only thing that’s left is the register and trash, but we both know I have no business touching that thing,” she motions towards the desk without looking up. Blake isn’t exactly known for her math skills. Or being good with technology.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say with a chuckle while heading to the front of the salon.
"I got trash," I hear her call back.
A loud bang on the front door catches me off guard and a scream escapes me as I drop to the ground behind the desk. I look over my shoulder, only to find that Blake has disappeared. Shit. Heat pricks up the back of my legs. Another bang sends me cowering even more.
“Open the fucking door, Elizabeth. I know you’re in there.”
Jett? Why is he here? I never work nights, so how the hell does he know I’m here — my mother. I kick myself for not having my phone on me so I can tell Blake to come back inside. But I also need to get better at taking control back of my life. With the lack of memories from last week, I have no idea where things left off, or why he is so mad. That doesn’t matter, though. If my mother was right about one thing, it’s that I need to be mature. Which means handling things on my own.
Standing from my hiding spot, I immediately find Jett through the glass door, hands bracing the sides of it, and he pins me with his eyes.
“Let me in, Liza.” His voice is rough. As if he’s been drinking and yelling for hours. Letting him in would be a horrible idea.
“Blake,” I call out into the open, but she doesn’t respond. It’s fine. I can do this on my own. In for four, out for four, I repeat as I move to unlock the door and let him in. “What are you doing here?”
