I would laugh but his expression is slightly menacing, and now I’m a little worried.
I help him load the washer and we return to fix the mess in the family room. I can feel his eyes burning into the back of me as I’m on all fours, rubbing the coffee stain off the sofa cushion and carpet. It’s silent except for the scratching noise the sponge makes against the chocolate-brown fabric. I can feel the atmosphere transforming around me and the room suddenly feels much colder; there’s a sense of an impending confrontation hanging thickly in the air. I give up on the scrubbing and fall to my ass on the carpet, leaning against the sofa as I peel off the rubber gloves I’m wearing. I gather the bottles of stain remover and fabric deodorizer into a neat pile at my side and look up to see him watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Liar!”
He smirks and sits down next to me.
“It freaks me out how well you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Sense when I’m lying.”
“Yeah…you’d think you’d stop doing it, knowing that I can tell a mile off.”
He nods his head in contemplation, and his face is somber again.
“I remember.”
I look at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.
“Mom, telling me that I’m not hers. I remember it. That’s what I was dreaming about before I knocked your drink.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say to him. I’m relieved as hell that he can recall it, but sad too.
“I told you at the beach?”
“Yeah, you did. We were supposed to be at the movies; you didn’t show.”
“I called you and you came out, right? Then we drove to the beach, and I told you why I was late.”
I nod my head in confirmation and he exhales loudly.
“I know I shouldn’t be mad at you but I am. I can’t help it. I don’t understand why you would pretend to me like that never happened, even if it was my mom’s idea.”
I can feel my pulse rise and my palms begin to sweat. I hate how quickly the sadness has crept into his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to keep it quiet, but what was I supposed to do? You didn’t remember me. You’d just been through the crash; you’re dealing with your dad. I couldn’t exactly walk into your room and be all, ‘Hey I’m Blair, your girlfriend that you don’t remember and this over here is your fake mom who’s been lying to you for the last eighteen years, just so you know!’”
Her gasp startles Ethan and me as we turn to see Moira standing, case in hand, behind us.
Shit!
“YOU’RE BACK EARLIER than I expected.”
“You don’t say! I’m going to go put this case away. Why don’t you two go and get dressed?” With that Mom turns and exits the room.
“Oh my gosh! I can’t believe she just heard all of that, and that she saw me wearing just your t-shirt!” Blair whisper-shouts, her face twisted with embarrassment. “She’s going to think we were having sex!”
“Relax, she doesn’t care. Come upstairs, I’ll grab you some sweats.”
I help her up, and she pulls at the hem of the t-shirt, trying to stretch it further down over her legs. The more she pulls at the front, the higher it rides at the back. I let her walk in front of me as we ascend the stairs, purely to enjoy the view as her ass bounces on each step.
She rushes into my room so as not to bump into my mom, and I dig around in my closet until I find a clean pair of sweats for her. She slips them on, and I laugh. She looks like a clown; the material drowns her. She needs to roll the waistband over three times to get them to stay up and it’s weirdly sexy. I pull out a dark blue hoody and zip it half way, pushing the sleeves to my elbows, Blair watches me like I’m performing heart surgery or some shit, not getting dressed. I grab her hand and pull her silently back downstairs to go face my mom.
This should be interesting.
Mom returns with a hot drink and sits facing us in the chair opposite the sofa. Blair is fidgeting by my side, wringing her hands together and looking like she would rather be any place than here right now.
“Maybe I should go and let you two talk,” Blair announces, and Mom smiles and nods.
“No. I want to hear what the pair of you have to say,” I say, before Blair has a chance to get up. Mom’s face falls and Blair’s pales.
“Go ahead Mom, you flew back to talk, so talk.” I sound like a jackass, even to myself, but I’ve given up caring right now. I sit forward, hands clasped in front of me, my elbows resting on my knees. She looks so tired and sad. I almost feel sorry for her. Only almost.
“Sweetheart, I—”