Or I truly was dehydrated.
I’ve upped my water intake to make sure that doesn’t happen again.
I’m so engrossed in my work, I don’t hear the door open to the lab or even when London comes up beside me. I jump when I notice her. “Jesus.”
She grins, her eyes bright and happy. Like always. It has to be nice to never overthink or be worried over anything. To just walk around happy and ready to take on the world.
“Sorry. How much longer you got?”
“Maybe an hour? I’ve got two more reports.”
She makes a face. “I ordered some Chinese, and Leroy ordered a movie. We were going to wait for you.”
Yup, hard pass. “You’re too sweet. I’ve got so much to do, and I’m exhausted. Don’t wait for me. Enjoy your night.”
She eyes me. “You haven’t been hanging with Leroy and me lately. Everything okay?”
No, actually. Your boyfriend is a fat-phobic ass-fuck, and I wish I could suffocate him with my ass cheeks. I wave her off since she is my boss and, basically, my landlord. I really didn’t think this through by putting all my eggs in her basket. But then again, I didn’t know she was dating an asshole. “Just been insanely busy and focusing on me.”
She moves her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve noticed. You’re working really hard.”
“I’ve got goals.”
“Which is why I adore you,” she says, rubbing my arm. “Don’t overwork.”
“Can’t say I won’t,” I call to her as she retreats from the lab. I let my shoulders fall because now I don’t want to go home. I won’t be able to go to my room without being guilt-tripped into hanging out in the living room with her and Leroy. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place, and I’m seriously considering going back to the dorms. Though, I doubt I’ll be able to get anything this late. Ugh, the stress. Maybe I should find my own place. But then I’ll really need to get a job. Or tell my mother I’m fat and beg her to pay for my place. I mean, I wouldn’t have to beg, and she’d insist I’m not fat. She’d probably come here and smack me too.
Ugh. The. Stress.
I fall back into my work, but unfortunately, I’m done in twenty minutes. I pack up my stuff as slowly as I can and gather my things. But it still doesn’t take long enough for Leroy to leave the house or fall off the face of the earth. When my stomach growls, I realize that I’m starving and the iced coffee I had this morning wasn’t a sufficient breakfast. I head toward my car and decide to go to a sports pub downtown. They have the best fried pickles. Usually, fried pickles are chips, but these are spears. My favorite. When I put my phone in the holder, my mom’s texts taunt me. I hadn’t even noticed another one had come in.
Mom: If you don’t start communicating with me more, Angela Lynn, I will come find you.
That’s not scary at all.
I roll my eyes as I go to hit her name without much thought, but then I pause. I’m feeling lonely. I don’t really have friends here, and the one I do have is attached to a jackass who fat shames me. If I call my mom, she’ll ask questions I’m not ready for. She’ll want answers I don’t have. And more than likely, she’ll want to see me, and I’m absolutely not ready for that. I blow out a breath, closing my eyes. I know good and well my mom loves me, no matter what. I know that, so why is it so hard to accept that I’m fine the way I am? Why am I putting all this pressure on myself? I sit here and urge players not to do the very thing I’m doing.
I swallow hard and hit my mom’s name. When she answers, it’s as if she’s out of breath. “Angie! Hey!”
I smile at the sound of her voice. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m good. Better now. How are you? How was your day?”
“Busy. I’m working all the time, and school is rough.”
“Oh, I bet. But it’ll be worth it, won’t it?”
“For sure. Just gotta get done,” I say, exhaling hard. “I should be done by May.”
“That’s wonderful! Will there be a graduation?”
“There is, but I don’t know if I’ll walk.”
“Why not?”
I shrug, though she can’t see me. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to.”
I can tell she’s hesitating. “Well, it’s a huge accomplishment to get done early and have a job waiting for you, Ang. I would love to be there with you to celebrate.”
“I know. We’ll see what happens.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Well, it’s wonderful to hear your voice.”
“Yours too, Mom. I miss you.”
“Aw, my love, I miss you.”
I smile. “How are things?”
Of course, she goes into everything from the boys’ new dive scores to Charlotte’s plan to start a clothing line. Pretty impressive for a fifteen-year-old. My dad is still coaching the youth hockey league for girls and helps a little with the boys. He spends a lot of time at the pool with the twins, and Mom, she is always busy with her home design business. She’s decorated the homes of country stars, athletes, and actors all over Tennessee. Our house is basically a showroom. It’s funny that when Mom really hit it big with her business, it was only in a guesthouse at the back of my dad’s property. Now, she has over one hundred employees and a huge office building in Franklin, Tennessee.
I listen, smiling and feeling so whole. As much as I wish I were doing as great as they all are, I’m thankful they’re thriving. I may be doing great professionally, but physically, not so much.
“Work and school are good, though? Even if it’s busy?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “It’s just a lot. I’m doing well, and I love it.”
“That’s awesome.” She pauses. “So, I feel like we need to address the elephant in the room.”
“We’re not in a room,” I say, trying to keep the elephant locked up.
“Angie.”
“Mom,” I say, laughing. “I don’t see a room—or an elephant, for that matter.”
“You’re a pain,” she teases. “And you know what I mean. If everything is so good, why don’t you call me or FaceTime? Why did you delete all your social media?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t need social media. It’s not good for mental health.”
“Understandable, but it’s good for family. We want to see you. We miss you.”
Yeah, not happening. “I know. I need to get things in order.”
“Angela, what’s going on? Did you get a tattoo on your face?”
I laugh. “Yes, Mom.”
“Angie!”
“No, really. It’s your face on mine.”
“I’m going to beat you,” she laughs, and I smile. “Baby, are you okay?”
The lump in my throat is suffocating me. I want to be honest; I want to tell her my insecurities, but I know she’ll tell me I’m perfect. To her, I am. To me, not so much. Hell, it’s a huge step that I called her right now, but in no way am I ready to admit I’m hiding because of my weight gain. The weight gain that was caused by trauma. Trauma she did everything to keep me safe from and then another kind of trauma she was unable to protect me from. I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’m fine. I’m just figuring things out.”