Page 99 of Forced Proximity

She rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t you ever get tired?’

‘Nope.’ I grin and kiss her before she leaves. When the door closes, my smile drops.

I’m determined to give me and Lexi the best possible chance of relationship survival. To do that, I need to cut ties with my past. Time to do what should’ve been done a long, long time ago. I sit at the kitchen island, exhale a shaky breath and grab my phone.

It only rings twice. ‘Justin! My sweet boy. I almost thought you were dead by now. Thank God I have the internet and can look you up to see what’s happening with you. Not that a mother should have to rely on the internet to find out about her children.’

My jaw tightens. I don’t want to do this. But also do. I’m done letting my past potentially infect my future. ‘How are you, Mom?’

‘I’m actually surprised to hear you ask that,’ she says with a huff. ‘I didn’t think you cared.’

I don’t even respond.

‘I’m not great,’ she says. ‘It’s been a long time, so I’ll get you up to speed. I’m in danger of losing the house.’

Of course she is. What’s next? Some mysterious disease and doctors who’ll only take cash. Some charity case that she’ll ‘funnel’ the money to on my behalf. I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Again? What happened this time?’

‘Well, your father, God rest his soul, I just had no idea the level of debt he got himself into. Millions, Justin. Millions. I’m fielding calls left and right from so many people, and I’m exhausted.’

She’s exhausting. ‘Which people?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Who’s contacting you?’ I ask the question, already knowing the answer. ‘I’ll have my lawyer take care of it from here on out. I just need the names.’

A long silence follows. ‘I mean, there’s so many of them. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s not like I have that information sitting here. Who knows what kind of nefarious people these are. Just send the money and I’ll take care of it.’

I’m playing a game, and she most likely knows it. My mother is a lot of things, but stupid is not one. She’s absolutely reading through my words. ‘From here on out, I’ll take care of it,’ I say. ‘Forward me the emails, or the numbers, or the letters, whatever it is, and I’ll pay them directly, so you don’t need to worry.’

‘Well … I … I mean, I don’t always know. They come from all over. Sometimes it’s really random and I don’t always have that information.’

I take a deep breath to keep from yelling. ‘Then how do you know where to send the money?’

‘What?’ she snaps.

My heart pounds in my ears. Anyone who says confrontation like this with a parent is easy is a liar. I hook my finger in my shirt collar and tug it away from my neck. ‘If you don’t have the information, how do you know where to send the money?’

Several moments pass with huffs coming from the other side. Then, silence for so many moments that I pull the phone away from my ear to check to see if the call dropped.

‘Listen here, you ungrateful shit. Do you have any idea of the sacrifices I made for you,’ she finally says. ‘I gave you everything. Cars, trips, toys, everything. How dare you question me now, after everything I’ve done!’

The words hurt, but not in the way I thought they would. More like a wound right before it bursts and then scabs over. ‘Whatever you think I owe you, I’ve paid. Multiple times over.’

‘What does it matter? You make millions and millions of dollars. This is nothing but change to you. The money is meaningless.’

She will never fucking get it. The control, the terror she put us through, the entitlement. Nothing will ever change. She will never change, and I needed to confirm this. ‘The amount doesn’t matter. It’s this expectation. You’ve always been this way and finally, finally, I refuse to let it affect me anymore. The money stops. Now. Completely.’

A breath hitches on the other side. ‘You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. Are you really that heartless that you’d let your own mother starve in the streets before you’d help her?’

Don’t give in. ‘You will not starve. The money is done. That’s definite. And don’t even think of contacting Mia.’ I tap my fingers against the phone. ‘But if you want to repair our relationship, you need to get counseling. And after you get some help, I’m willing to have a conversation with you to see if our relationship is salvageable.’

A loud, heavy exhale sounds. ‘Are you serious about the money?’

‘One hundred percent,’ I say. ‘The money is done. Period.’

Another short moment passes. ‘Well then, fuck you.’

Then, silence.