Abercrombie & Bitch

Saturday, April 25, 12:03am – home

I decided to forgo the sleepover at Elle’s house. That was what we were going to do, after all. After the party, of course, but I digress. In light of what happened, however, I decided to just head home. I couldn’t take much more of Zach and the tension that hung in the air between us like a curtain.

I did not, however, expect my mother to be waiting for me.

The thing about my mom is, I used to worship her. Just like every other five-year-old girl, I suppose. It was like she was this grown-up princess, like the ones from the books my dad used to read to me. Every time we went out, she’d be nice to everyone she met – especially the single men, though I didn’t figure that out until I was older. She was always the prettiest lady around, with her long, silky brown hair and her slim frame that she never had to worry about, despite having five kids. And I guess I didn’t realize that there was more to a person than a pretty face. My mother used to go on and on about how attractive some guy was – one who wasn’t my father.

At seven or eight, I began to realize that maybe my mom wasn’t so average. I was spending more time with Zach’s and Riley’s moms then, and I began to wonder why my mother didn’t bake cookies or let me help with laundry or normal mom stuff. She blew me off when I asked her, with the excuse that cookies made her fat and that we had a laundromat for a reason.

And, being eight and not knowing any better, I believed her.

But then I hit middle school. While all the other kids were beginning to flirt and date and whatnot, I was stuck at home with my sisters. Which I didn’t mind at first, but then my mom would pester me about why I was home on a Friday night or what boys I liked. At first I thought she was just being a concerned mother. It didn’t take me long to figure out that all she wanted was a daughter that was popular and dated all the right guys.

She wanted a princess, and all she got was a pauper.

When my dad left, I hated her. There’s no sugarcoating it. I hated her so much that I even thought about asking Riley’s mom if I could live with them for a while. I knew in the back of my mind that I couldn’t do anything about it, because of Meg. I wasn’t about to stand by and let my mom turn her into what she made Lindsey into. Harper rebelled from my mom’s attempts to make her that way.

I never figured out why my mom was the way she was. I suspect that she wanted to be a grandmother as soon as possible, if she couldn’t have any more kids of her own. It was completely sickening. That made me hate her even more.

I hated that she was my mom. I hated that I was stuck under the same roof as her until I was in college. I hated that she hurt my father.

I hated her.

As soon as I walked into the house, I knew something was up. The light in the kitchen was on, and I could hear someone moving around. With a looming sense of dread, I slowly made my way toward it.

My mother was sitting at the little booth, sipping from a coffee mug. She looked up at me, her chestnut curls bobbing up and down. I swallowed hard as her icy blue eyes narrowed at me. It took a hell of a lot to intimidate me, but all my mother had to do was put on an angry face to make me nervous.

“You’re home late,” she stated coldly, daintily putting her cup down on the table. “Or should I say early?”

I didn’t say anything. I shifted my weight to my other foot, trying not to make eye contact. That could be bad; I hear wicked witches work like that.

“Answer me, Miranda,” she growled, pulling herself to her feet.

I narrowed my eyes at a random spot on the tiled floor. “What am I supposed to say? I’m eighteen, mother,” I spat, “I can make my own freaking decisions.”

Before I knew what was happening, she strode up to me and angrily swiped her hand at my face. It connected with my cheek, hard, and sent me to the ground. I gripped the side of the booth as the stinging pain began, and tried to ignore the feeling of blood dripping from my cheek.

My mom towered above me in my crippled state. “How dare you talk to me like that! I’m your mother, Miranda Gregory! Do you understand?”

I spat out the blood that had trickled into my mouth. I hated the taste of it. “Perfectly.”

She didn’t look all that convinced. But I guess my answer, sarcastic or not, was enough for her. She sat back down carefully and took up her mug again, as if she hadn’t just ripped my cheek open with that god damned ring on her finger.

The ring from her boyfriend, Bill. The one she’d been having an affair with since I was old enough to answer the phone and take a message. Stupid, drunkard Bill from the auto shop who beat his previous wife to death. (Well, that’s just a theory, but he really is a widower.)

“It seems you don’t, Mandy,” she continued in a misleadingly calm voice, “Because I got a call at the hospital this afternoon. From Mr. Flanagan.”

I stared blankly at her, suddenly without enough heart to raise an eyebrow. Why would Mr. F bother calling my mother at the hospital?

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You ruined Bryce’s car?”

Fuck. “No,” I lied, trying to get to my feet.

“Not good enough, Miranda,” she seethed, standing again but thankfully not coming near me, “Your name was carved into his seat. Your softball bat was found at the scene. And your key was taken out of the side.”

What? Did you think I was joking about it? Carrie Underwood’s an evil genius.

My mother shook her head ruefully. “I raised you not to treat people like that, Miranda. There’s always something to be gained from boys, cheating or no.”

I cannot believe she just said that. Well, okay, I can, but it still wasn’t easy to digest. I felt my face scrunch up in disgust. “That’s it! You raised me to be a skank, Jackie. I don’t care how much of a god-damned slut you are, you don’t just take advantage of people like that!”

Without warning, she grabbed the mug off of the table and hurled it at me. I barely had enough time to put a hand up to protect my face before it shattered on impact and spilled its scalding contents all over me. I cried out in pain as the shards of glass dug into my hand and torso.

“Get up to your room,” she hissed, clenching her fists at her sides, “I don’t want to see your damned face. After all I do for you, working my ass off to pay the bills and take care of you when I’m not taking care of other people-”

“Total bullshit,” I snapped before I could control myself. I really, really had to start thinking these things through more often. “You work all day so you don’t have to deal with the result of your greediness. I’m the one that has to go to school, go to work, and take care of my sisters when I have a boyfriend and a life I’d like to lead, but I can’t do that because-”

She cut of my little rant by striking my cheek again. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, you little bitch. I said get out and don’t come back until you’ve learned to respect your mother.”

With one last reproachful glance, I ran out of the room. Mowgli was at my heels in a heartbeat, running along side of me and grabbing his leash. I yanked my jacket off of the coat rack in the hallway and sped up the stairs.

I didn’t know exactly what I was doing at the moment. My mind was dizzy with anger and pain and who knows what else. All I knew was that things had just crossed the line, and that I wasn’t welcome here anymore.

Things with my mother had been tense for years. Since Dad left. But this… this was an entirely new level. She’d hit me a few times, that much was true. She’d thrown stuff at me. But something inside of me that night… it snapped.

My breathing was labored and my hands shook as I dragged out my extra backpack. I haphazardly grabbed my stuff from the shelves and took out all the clothes I could get my hands on. I didn’t care what they were; I only cared about getting out of here as fast as I possibly could.

“Mandy?”

I whipped around. There was Lindsey, standing in my doorway. Her eyes were wide and her blonde hair was completely messed up, but she was still very much the Barbie doll she was during the day. Except now, unlike any other time I’d talked to her, she looked concerned.

I bit my lip as I tightened my hand around a pair of denim shorts of mine and the shards of porcelain dug farther into my hand. “Not now, Linz.”

“I need to talk to you,” she said softly, taking a few tentative steps into the room. “I… I heard what Mom said. And what you said.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “Apology accepted.” I zipped up the bag quickly and heaved it over my shoulder. “I’ve got to get out of here,” I muttered, brushing past her.

“Where are you going?”

I glanced at her over my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Mandy?”

I completely turned around. “Yeah?”

Lindsey bit her lip and even from five or six feet away, I could see tears forming in her eyes. “Be careful.”

I fought back my own tears. “You, too.”

The thing is, I was lying when I told Lindsey I didn’t know where I was going to go. Because I could only think of one place right now that I could go, besides my dad’s house. I’d make my way there eventually, I suppose, but it was midnight and far too late to catch a train to Pittsburgh. I didn’t want to worry Elle and Riley about this, since I’d already told them I was going home. Zach wasn’t an option, either – for obvious reasons. There was only one place I could think of.

It took my slightly longer to get there because of my hand, and the face that Mowgli was trying to make sure I was alright. I managed to pull into the parking lot without incident, and get out of the car and race up to the door.

“Miranda?” Rob grumbled incoherently, leaning onto the door frame for support.

It was then that I let the tears start to fall. “Um, Rob… Could I stay here for a while?”

He didn’t have to ask what happened. Even though he was half asleep, he knew what it was like when I fought with my mother. “Of course you can.”

-[-]-

Saturday, April 25, 1:21am – Rob’s apartment

An hour later, I was sitting on Rob’s bed, fiddling with the hem of my pajama shorts. He only had a one-bedroom apartment, and he insisted I sleep in his bed, at least for a night. I didn’t object, mainly because I was already almost asleep anyway. He managed to get all the pieces of porcelain out of my hand and put a bandage on the cut on my cheek.

I was forever grateful to him for that.

I felt the bed sink from his weight as he took a seat, hesitantly reaching toward my face with a damp cloth. “Here, this should help the pain,” he explained, eyeing the newly-formed bruise on my cheek. I thanked him and pressed it to my face. He shifted uncomfortably. “You… You want to talk about it?”

Damn. I knew this was coming. “Not particularly,” I muttered, trying to shield my face from Rob’s concerned gaze. He seemed kind of flustered ever since I showed up. With good reason, no doubt. But I’d done this a few times before. What had I done to make it awkward?

He sighed. “Alright. I guess… I guess you’d better get some sleep.” he leaned the tiny distance over the bed to take the cloth from my hand.

I swallowed hard a second time. Rob’s big, blue eyes were very, very close to mine. Too close, far too close. They widened as he seemed to realize the same thing, much like what happened the other day…

I didn’t know who leaned in. I didn’t know precisely when my eyes closed. All I knew was that suddenly, Rob’s lips gently met mine.

It was only for a second, maybe less than that. It wasn’t like Zach’s kiss earlier; it was soft and gentle, but it still made my heart speed up. My eyes flew open and met with Rob’s, searching for a sign of… something.

His eyes still resembled a deer in the headlights. “Oh… God, Miranda, I’m sorry.”

I blinked at him, a little dazed. “It’s… it’s fine, Rob. Let’s just… Let’s just get some sleep.”

He exhaled loudly and shut off the light. I pulled the sheets over my body and curled up next to Rob, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his arm around my waist. I could still feel his lips against mine, making them tingle.

Why me?