Mess To Be Made

27

He'd left by the time I woke up—for the second time—at 10am. I royally hated that my chest tightened at the fact he was gone.

It only constricted further when my bedroom door vibrated from the sound of three knocks against it.

"Allie" she said. Her voice was soft and sweet. Disgusting.

She stepped into my room while I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. I heard her footsteps, then the bed dip beside me.

"I know you're awake, honey. And I know you've been avoiding me."

Oh, so she wasn't completely stupid.

I slowly opened my eyes. Normally I would smirk and make a playful joke and giggle. You caught me.

Now, though, I just kept my gaze steady on hers. Her blonde hair was tied up in a top knot and she was wearing a full face of makeup. She looked good. She was fine.

Must be nice.

"What's going on?" she asked. I flinched when her hand touched my arm, even though there was a blanket separating the contact. She didn't seem to notice.

"Nothing," I grumbled and turned over.

"Allison," she warned.

I snapped. "I'm tired."

She fell silent and I thought my tone might actually get rid of her. Yet the mattress didn't creak. The weight on my bed didn't move. Eventually she said, "You know, when you don't come home, most nights, I assume you're at Lindsay's or," she seemed to hesitate, "Sean's. But I can't just have you out every night of the week without a text or call."

It took all of my willpower not to laugh out loud. I had to be home, yet she could fuck people in our home. Got it.

A month ago, I would've rolled over and taken her hand in mine while telling her she was right. I would've apologized and we would be back on the same page.

It wasn't a month ago though. It was today.

And things had changed.

"I'm here now, right?" I said monotonously. "I'm safe. You don't need to worry."

"Of course I worry, honey."

I wanted to scream. I would love to know what she worried about. Cheating on her husband, maybe? That might be a good start.

"Dad called," she said and the muscles in my stomach clenched at the sound of his name coming from her lips. It felt wrong to hear her say it. "He's coming home for your birthday."

"That's in, like, three weeks," I deadpanned. What, was this supposed to excite me?

"Round about," my mother practically whispered.

I could hear pain in her voice, pain that made my heart ache because, after all, she was my mother. But my mind was too hot with rage. My fingernails were scratching against my palms under my sheets. I'd lash out if I took one look at her.

"Sounds good," I managed to spit out. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

My mom didn't say another word, but sat on my bed for what felt like a whole minute. Finally, she stood and left the room. When I heard my bedroom door latch behind her, I exhaled so hard I almost coughed.

Shortly after, Lindsay FaceTimed me. Her and Rachel were curled up in her bed.

"Where the fuck did you go last night?" Rachel practically yelled at me.

I snuggled deeper into my pillow and easily lied: I hung out with Spencer for a bit. Then got tired. And went home.

"You didn't go home with Spencer?" Rachel asked incredulously, while Lindsay simultaneously scolded, "You should have texted us."