Chapter 27
Grocery shopping is one of the lamest things I have to do. But in my current domestic goddess status, I’ve become a pro at it. I clip coupons. I buy sales. I plan meals. I rock at keeping the bill down. However, taking Jaime never helps.
“Why can’t we get two kinds of cookies?” she whines holding two cartons while the pink plastic crown on her head wobbles.
“Because one is enough.”
“But I like chocolate chips and these marshmallow things.”
“Pick one. We’ll get the other next week.”
She rolls her eyes and tosses the chocolate chip cookies into the cart. The next isle is the cereal isle, which always takes the longest. I point out which boxes are on sale and which ones I have coupons for then Jamie contemplates.
My phone vibrates in my pocket while she holds two boxes next to each other and compares. I dig my phone out and smile at Romeo’s name across the screen before reading the text.
I’m sitting here looking at the white roses you sent me. Their beauty, their scent, their soft petals remind me of you. Yet they’re not even close to the real thing. You sure you can’t go out after practice? I’d like to thank you personally and make your heart smile like mine is right now.
“You okay?” Jamie asks, dropping her cereal choice in the cart.
I’m standing in the middle of the isle clutching my phone to my chest. I must look like a lovesick junior high school girl. But I don’t care. Romeo is so freaking perfectly awesome. So opposite of what I originally thought of him. I should send him flowers every day. Forty-five bucks is so worth this text. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say wistfully.
Jamie gives me an odd look then pulls the cart while I stand in dream mode. I slowly follow. Somewhere between the chips and the produce, I text him back.
My heart’s been smiling since last night. And don’t tempt me.
I stay on a Romeo cloud through the checkout line and while I toss groceries into the trunk. I’m not even sure what I bought the second half of shopping and I don’t particularly care. I float all the way home until I hit the garage door opener and see my mother’s car inside the garage. Then I plummet down to earth.
“Mom’s home!” Jamie squeals from the back seat.
Needless to say, I’m not as excited. My mom should be at work. Something’s very wrong if she’s home.
Inside the garage, Jamie grabs two grocery bags from the trunk and rushes inside. I yank then drag the last six into the kitchen. Jamie’s two bags along with her book bag lie on the floor. While I put away groceries, I can hear the murmur of my mother and sister’s voice from the living room. The TV blares over their conversation as I load the crockpot with rice, vegetables, stock, and chicken then wander into the living room.
My mother sits on the couch with a blanket across her knees. She’s dressed for work in black pants and a red blouse with her nametag still attached. Curled next to her, Jamie watches TV. My mother stares out the large window of our living room.
“Jamie,” I say, reaching for the remote and sitting in the nearest chair. “Go do your homework then you can watch TV.” Hoping she won’t be able to hear the coming conversation, I change the channel instead of turning off the TV.
Jamie gives me a sour look.
“Come on, you know the rules.” Six months ago, my bossing Jamie around while my mother sits quiet would have been weird. Now it’s normal.
Jamie rolls her eyes but stomps off to the kitchen. Eight-year-old eye rolls are quite annoying.
I turn up the volume then turn to my mother. Her eyes look puffy and slightly red. “What happened? Are you sick?”
She shakes her head and picks fuzz off the blanket on her lap.
“Why are you home?”
She lets out a sigh. “I found out something today.”
My brows lower. “What?”
“Don’t say anything to your sister,” she says, lowering her voice. “But your father is getting married in spring.”
Oh shit. I just stare at her.
Her eyes narrow on me. “You knew?”
I nod slowly.
She clutches the blanket. “You didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, it would have been better from you than some customer who knows your father,” she snaps.
I imagine her behind the counter ringing in items while some faceless bitch talks about her soon to be ex-husband getting married. “I’m sorry.”
“When did he tell you?”
I swallow. “In August I think.”
Her hands drop and her lip quivers. “August? Riley, it’s November.”
“Mom, he doesn’t matter anymore.”
She shakes her head sadly. “He may be able to sweep over twenty years of his life away, but I can’t.” She draws in a raged breath. “I still love him. I’m afraid I’ll always love him. I’m going to die alone pinning after him while he belongs to someone else. Someone younger.”
I lean forward. “Stop it. You’ll find someone too. Someone better.”
She shakes her head.
I’m not sure if it’s my father or her life with him that my mother can’t let go. However, she needs to let both go. “Did you reschedule that counseling appointment?”
“I find out my husband is getting married and you’re worried about counseling?”
“You need to talk to someone.”
“I’m talking with you,” she says stubbornly.
“Someone who isn’t emotionally involved.”
“A stranger. You want me to open up to a stranger.”
“No, a person whose job is to listen and help.”
She looks out the window as if the fallen leaves outside are the most important thing in the world. Finally, she asks, “Does Jamie know about the engagement?”
Ah, topic switch. Of course. “I don’t think so.” I should probably tell her dad has been bringing Sara to dinner most Tuesday nights, but her red-rimmed eyes keep me from speaking.
Rubbing her temples, she continues to stare out the window.
I scoot to the edge of the chair. “I could stay home tonight.”
“And watch me mope?” She waves a hand. “Go to practice, Riley. I’ll be alright. I just couldn’t work. Concentration and cordialness eluded me.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be home after nine anyway.” I stand. “Dinner’s in the crockpot. It should be done by seven thirty.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” I say, watching her stare out the window again. She’s right. I don’t want to stay here and witness her depression. Yet, her forlorn look almost has me sinking back into the chair. I remind myself I’ll only be gone for a little more than two hours. Plus I’ll get to see Romeo, even if we’re still pretending until Saturday, I’ll get to be with him. And being with him is becoming the most important thing in my world.
***
Romeo and I rarely argue during practice anymore. He’s still a slave driver, but he is a perfectionist when it comes to music. Being one too, I usually listen to my slave driver. Sometimes we don’t agree. Even though I’ve come to realize he’s a musical genius, I am the authority when it comes to the drums. And he usually excepts my decisions. After I give him an explanation of course. If Sam or Justin has noticed the change in our behavior, neither of them has commented.
However, today he is on my ass. And well, I can’t say much. Still worried about my mother, I am off a bit. We’re trying to do a cover of Sweet Sour by Band of Skulls. Everyone has it but me. And the song is kind of simple, especially for me.
“Fuck,” Justin says. “How many times do we have to redo this?”
Romeo glares at him. “Until we get it right.”
“We’ve got it right. It’s just Riley, who keeps screwing up. So she’s off today. I’m sure by the next practice she’ll have her shit back together.” He turns to me. “Right?”
“Yeah, right. Sorry,” I say with a frown. I should have just canceled practice.
Sam sets his bass against the wall and fishes out his cigarettes from his pocket. “I’m taking a break.”
“Good idea before I grow hoarse,” Justin says, flopping onto a metal chair.
Lifting his strap and guitar over his head, Romeo gives me a questioning look. I shrug then push my sticks in my back pocket and pull out my phone.
There are several texts waiting on my phone. All from my mother. My fingers quickly press buttons and scroll. Skimming them, I realize Jamie actually sent them. I go back to the first one and read through them.
Mom is crying.
Mom is acting weird.
Something is wrong with mom.
Mom won’t get off the couch.
Come home.
Please.
I’m off my stool, pushing my mother’s number, and across the room in seconds.
“Riley?” Jamie answers in an expectant tone.
“What’s going on?”
“Mom’s…drinking,” she says in a hushed whisper.
“Drinking?”
“Yeah, like beer, but its red. And she keeps crying, but she won’t get off the couch.”
What the hell? “I’m coming. Send me a picture of what she’s drinking, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Hurry,” Jamie says.
I change my phone to vibrate, turn around, and nearly run into Romeo.
He catches me by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”
“My mom…I have to go.”
He doesn’t release me. “Is she okay?”
“No she’s losing it,” I say and rest my forehead against his chest.
His arms wrap around me. “Do you need me to come with you?”
At the idea of him seeing my mother drunk, I shake my head vigorously and repeat, “I have to go.” But my hands clench at the muscles of his back. My face digs into his chest. He feels solid and indestructible and safe. “I have to go,” I mumble into his shirt.
Somehow understanding my dilemma, he gently unwraps my arms from around him and steps back.
Justin comes up from behind Romeo. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” I say while my phone vibrates in my hand.
“It sure as shit doesn’t look like nothing,” Justin says.
Romeo crosses his arms as Justin glares at him.
I stare at the picture of an empty wine bottle on my phone. My mother rarely drinks—usually just at parties and during the holidays—but she drank a whole bottle in a little over an hour? Alone with my sister?
“Are you two seeing each other?” Justin demands.
“No,” I say as Romeo says, “Yes.”
“What the fuck!” Justin roars, pointing at Romeo. “You said none of us could hit on her! You’re the one who made a big deal about the whole thing!”
Romeo glares at Justin but softly says, “It’s not like that.”
My phone vibrates again. This time the picture is of my mother with her mouth hanging open and almost falling off the couch.
“I don’t give a fuck what it’s like! Your rules always stand, which means she’s out.” Justin tosses a thumb backwards.
Romeo’s eyes narrow to slits. “Justin—”
“This is such bullshit!”
My world slowly disintegrates as I look back at the picture in my hand again. Perhaps I’ve been blinded by hope, but the picture tears all hope away. My mother is broken. And I’m at band practice trying to play some stupid song.
“We’re not getting rid of the best drummer we’ll ever have because of your ego,” Romeo snaps.
“My ego? Listen motherfucker, you’re the one with the ego. You’re the one who makes all the rules. You’re the one who didn’t even want her. And you’re the one who’s going to stand by your shit ass rules!”
I glance up from the horrible picture to see Romeo and Justin standing inches from each other. Both have their fists clenched. Romeo’s jaw is tight. Justin’s teeth are clenched in an opened mouth sneer. Someone is going to swing soon.
“This doesn’t matter,” I say softly.
Leering, Justin leans closer to Romeo. “How long you been taping that ass?”
Romeo lunges and they crash against the wall. “Shut. Your. Filthy. Mouth.” He enunciates each word with a shove and dust flies around them.
I rush next to them and pull at Romeo’s grip. “Stop it!”
Breathing hard under Romeo’s weight, Justin sneers again. “Does she fuck like she plays?”
Romeo takes a small bounce back, and though I have hold of one arm, quick as lightning, he punches Justin in the jaw with the other. Justin slides down the wall. Romeo leans over his falling body. “I warned you.”
With a slight shake of his head and rage flying out of his eyes, Justin starts pushing himself up. “You wanna go, asshole?”
“Stop it!” I yell again, stepping between them. With my arms on both of their chests, I say, “This doesn’t matter.” They ignore me and stare daggers at each other. “Because I quit.”
Finally, both of their heads snap to me. As confusion changes their furious expressions, I step out from between them and race down the stairs. Romeo calls my name as I push out the door but I’m in my car and gone before he can catch up.