Dirty Little Secrets

Chapter Nineteen

"Heaven knows we belong way down below." –The Pretty Reckless, Heaven Knows

"Where were you last night?" my mother asked as she stirred her mug of coffee. Her voice was hoarse, and I looked up from where I was pouring a glass of orange juice. I realized with a jolt how much older she looked. Her hair was graying, and though she wore a sparse amount of makeup, you could see that the usually beautiful woman was showing her age.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, replacing the orange juice in the refrigerator and turning away.

"You think I didn't hear you come in last night? You left boot prints in the kitchen. I went to check on you last night. I found a full bath, but an empty bedroom. I'm not an idiot, Camila. Where were you?"

"There was something I needed to do," I told her in a low voice, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Camila," she told me. "I've been going through a lot lately, and now that your father is gone, I thought maybe this would be a good chance to solidify our mother-daughter bond. But I seem to be the only one putting in an effort."

"I apologize for the inconvenience," I replied curtly, sipping my juice and tracing patterns on the counter-top.

"You're getting sloppy, Cam," she murmured.

"That much is becoming apparent," I whispered.

"Where were you?" my mother asked. "No lies and no frills. Just tell me the truth, for once in your life. Where were you?"

"I had places to be."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" I asked. "I was out, I came back at a respectable time, and no one was harmed. I'm fine. Let it go."

She slammed down the coffee cup, and I realized her hand was shaking. "Just tell me where you were!" she yelled, causing me to flinch. I'd never heard her raise her voice in such a way before. She usually left that for my father. "Why can't you be honest with me? I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," I told her. "I just had something to do."

"Please," she whispered. "Just tell me where you were."

"Why do you care?" I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. "It was one night. Please just let it be."

I went to walk off, when her voice stopped me in my tracks. "Do you even love me, Camila?"

I stopped and turned around. "What?"

Her lips were shaking, and the tears in her eyes shattered my heart. "Do you love me?"

"You're my mother," I replied in a hollow voice.

She shook her hair. "That doesn't answer my question, and you know it. Do you love me?"

"I..." I whispered. "Mom. I..."

"You can't even say it, can you?" she asked. "What happened to you that was so bad you're so broken? You used to be my sweet baby girl, and now I look at you, and I don't even recognize you anymore."

I looked away. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me where you were last night. Tell me you love me. Tell me something, Camila; anything that lets me know my daughter is still in there."

I shook my head, searching for something to say. But I didn't even know what I was supposed to do. I couldn't tell her where I was last night, and I couldn't tell her I loved her. Did I even love her? When was the last time we sat down and had a real conversation? I didn't even know her favorite color! When had our family fractured?