The back door opens again and Terrance, my mom’s boyfriend of the hour, walks in. I should say “of the year” because that’s about as long as these guys last. I’ve hated every one of them. And while that might sound petulant, it’s always been with good reason. There was Marcus, who called her trash to her face, spat in her food, and then cried that she didn’t love him enough. All in front of me. There was Oliver, a thin spaced out professor who ended up stealing ten grand out of her bank account. And Jeremy who criticized her so much that she gained twenty pounds and forgot to wear makeup to work one day, which is the equivalent of a mental breakdown for my mother. At least none of them hit her. Not that I know of, anyway.
Terrence owns a used bookstore and pinches pennies by collecting packets of salt, pepper, ketchup, and whatnot from various fast food restaurants around the area. I can’t make this shit up. He also generally loathes being left out of any of Mom’s business.
“Hello, Anna,” he says as he comes further into the kitchen and stares at my boobs. Intently.
He takes a seat next to my mom and immediately drapes an arm around her shoulder, leaving his long, pale fingers to dangle right over her breasts. Because, while he might stare at my boobs, he takes any opportunity he can to touch my mom’s when I’m around.
My stomach turns. “Hello, Terrance.” I keep my eyes on his greasy hair, parted severely down the middle. Like Hitler’s. When my stomach turns again, I look at my mother, who is trying to appear casual and calm, even though some creep is stroking her like she’s a lapdog.
I don’t bother giving my mother a dirty look—he’s here on my day with her. He does it every time.
If I live a hundred years, I’ll never understand my mother. She’s smart, brilliant, beautiful, and talented. And she has the self-esteem of a gnat. I cannot fathom why she’d rather not be alone than settle for these… I don’t even want to call them men.
“Did you tell Anna the good news, Cecelia?”
Mom has the grace to flush, and I know it will be bad. God, just don’t let it be marriage. I’ve feared that since I was ten and finally realized that one of these jerks might become a permanent fixture should Mom actually marry one of them. Luckily, the relationships ended before then.
“Well, dear,” she neatly shrugs out of Terrance’s grasp as she leans forward. “I’m getting older now.”
She’s fifty-five. Hardly old.
“And there’s so much to see in this world.”
Okay, true.
Terrance’s hand lands on her hip and he strokes her butt. I’m now officially ill.
“So I’ve decided to retire,” Mom says with another flush.
“That’s…” I struggle. “Well, that’s great, if that’s what you want, Mom.” I’m happy to think of Mom relaxing, even though I suspect she’ll be bored within months.
But she’s not done. She shifts in her seat, and my heart plummets. God, please not the marriage thing.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve also decided to sell the house.”
The words set off a bomb within my skull. I just sit there, my brain scrambled, leaving me unable to speak.
“We’re going on a world cruise,” Terrance puts in, grinning at me with his gray teeth.
“Are you selling your house?” I ask him. “Oh, right, I forgot. You rent.” Because I’m beginning to get the idea.
Terrance’s beady eyes narrow. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Yet you’re here, when this conversation is really between me and my mom.”
“Anna,” Mom begins.
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. Then take a deep breath. “Can I say anything to change your mind?”
“You should be happy for your mother, young lady.” Terrance is turning an ugly shade of red. “Not making her feel badly.”
“Do not fucking call me young lady again. And I’m not talking to you.”
“Anna, language.” Mom eases closer to me, like she might reach out and pat my hand.
I place my hands in my lap. “Can I?” I ask again.
Her eyes turn sad, regretful. “You don’t live here anymore, and I thought I’d buy something smaller when I return.”
“Never mind that your parents gave you this house. That it’s the only home I’ve ever known.”
Terrance snorts. “I told you she’d covet the house, Cecilia.”
“Like you are, Terry?” I snap back.
“Anna.” It’s a plea from my mom.
“No, Cece, don’t baby her.” Terrance cuts in, raising to glare at me. “I can take care of myself.”