The important part was, we’d gotten it done. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered. We had gotten it done, and we hadn’t killed each other or made fun of one another. It had just taken way too long. Luckily, I had thought ahead and taken the day off, even though my bank account didn’t need that kind of loss. Especially not when we were going to be competing in so many events.
Things hadn’t been awkward during our afternoon practice, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t glanced at his upper body once or twice and not remembered what he looked like without a shirt on. Just as quickly as I’d thought about it, I’d forced myself to stop. Luckily, he hadn’t had anywhere near the same amount of trouble; Ivan hadn’t actually said anything to me directly during our afternoon practice, even after he’d been so weirdly nice that morning.
“Hi, Grumpy,” my mom greeted me the second she heard me come into the kitchen.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, coming up behind her to kiss her cheek. I’d already dropped my things off. “How was work?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders as she turned off the water to the sink and reached for a towel to her left. “Fine. Eat before your food gets cold. I stuck it in the microwave when I saw the light in the driveway.”
“Thank you,” I said, still not paying attention, but turning to take a seat. I dug in to the baked chicken, jasmine rice, sweet potatoes, and side salad like I was going to collapse if I didn’t. I’d eaten lunch six hours ago between the shoot and the one hour break we’d taken between it and afternoon practice, but it felt more like a hundred hours since then. Ivan and I had worked on throws and side-by-side spins for three hours, and afterward, I worked out at the LC’s gym for three hours, including some high-intensity interval training on the treadmill to get my heart ready for the 180-200 beats per minute it was going to be pumping for close to five minutes during our free skate.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom take a seat at the island too. When we were both home at the same time, we always ate together, or at least kept the other company. So I didn’t think much of it.
Until she looked up, holding a mug of tea to her mouth and ruined my whole day.
My mouth dropped open the instant I got a good look at her face, and I pretty much yelled, “What the hell happened to your face?”
Mom’s blink was completely unimpressed.
And I didn’t give a shit as I took in the tape over her nose and two puffy, reddish-purple circles around each of her eyes.
And was that her fucking lip busted or was I imagining it?
She didn’t say anything as I looked all over her face, a thousand scenarios going through my head at what the hell had happened to her, when I asked, “Who did that to you?” I was going to kill somebody. I was going to fucking kill somebody, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
“Calm down,” she said easily, like there was no reason in the world for me to flip out over the fact that half her face was bruised.
Of course I ignored her. “What happened to you?”
My mom’s blue-blue eyes didn’t even move over into my direction as she said, word for word, right before taking another sip of what I knew was tea, “I was in a car accident. Everything is fine.”
She was in a car accident and everything was fine.
I blinked at her as she picked up her phone from the counter like everything was no big deal and started reading something on the screen. Me on the other hand, I just sat there and tried to process her words and their meaning… and wasn’t able to. Because I understood what an accident was. What I didn’t understand was why the hell she hadn’t called to tell me about it. Or at least send a fucking text.
“You were in a car accident?” The words were out of my mouth, as slow coming out as they’d been going in for me to process them.
She had been in an accident. My mom had been in a vehicle and it had been bad enough that she looked like hell. That’s what she had said without even looking in my direction to do it.
What. The. Fuck?
My mom still didn’t look at me. “It isn’t a big deal,” she went on. “I have a concussion. They set my nose again. My car was totaled, but the other driver’s insurance will cover it because he hit me and there were witnesses.” Then, the woman who even with two black eyes didn’t look like she’d given birth to five kids, and definitely didn’t look like her youngest—me—was twenty-six years old, finally did glance in my direction. My mom was totally unfazed as she pursed her lips in that way I’d become familiar with as a teenager when I’d talk back to her and she’d almost whooped my ass. “Don’t tell your brothers or sisters.”
Don’t tell my—
I grabbed the paper towel sitting beside my plate and held it under my chin as I spit my rice into it—wasting precious food and not giving a shit—as my heart rate and blood pressure racked up so fucking high, so fucking fast, it was a miracle I was just as healthy as I’d ever been in my life at that point… minus some physical stuff… because anyone else would have had a heart attack right then. At least anyone that gave half a shit about another person—and I gave a massive shit about my mom. My heart wasn’t supposed to be beating that fast while I was technically resting.
Mom groaned, sitting up straight, just as I set the paper towel beside my plate. “No, no. Don’t you spit your food out.”
I didn’t bother thinking about the last time I’d spit my food out; I didn’t need to get more pissed off. “Mom,” I said, my voice higher and squeakier than ever, sounding not at all like me and, maybe, a little like a teenager on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum.
But this wasn’t a tantrum. This was my mom being injured and not telling me about it. And not wanting me to tell anyone else about it.
The woman who had practically raised me on her own tipped her head to the side and made her eyes go wide like she was trying to tell me without words that I needed to scale back on the drama. But the thing that mostly caught my gaze was the fact that she didn’t even set her mug of tea down as she basically hissed, “Jasmine. Don’t start with me.”
“Don’t start with you?” I spit back at her, more alert than I’d ever been after a practice. Here I’d been just a minute ago, staring into the stone countertop of the kitchen island, thinking about how badly I wanted to get into the shower and go to bed… not even thinking about practices and figure skating and the future… and now, now I was about two seconds away from losing my shit. Just like that.
Because. What. The. Mother. Fuck.
“Don’t start with me,” she demanded again, taking a sip of her tea, just as easy as can be, like she wasn’t telling me to blow off her accident and concussion and broken nose, and that I couldn’t tell my siblings about it for whatever reason she had in her head. “I’m fine,” she said before I ignored her don’t start with me BS and leaned forward, blinking at her, like I had the worst dry eyes in the world.
“Why didn’t you call and tell me?” I asked, using a tone that would have definitely gotten me grounded ten years ago, as anger twisted my guts. Why hadn’t she?
My hands had started shaking.
My hands never shook. Never. Not when I was mad over getting screwed by people I had slightly trusted. Not while I was waiting to skate. Not after I skated. Not when I lost. Not when I won. Never.
Mom rolled her eyes and focused on her phone again, trying her best to be dismissive. I knew what she was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Jasmine,” she said my name just forcefully enough for me not to make another smart-ass comment. “Calm down.”
Calm down. Calm down?
I opened my mouth, and she shot those blue eyes, the ones I’d be able to pick out of a color wheel with my eyes closed, in my direction once more. “I’m fine. Some dumb-dumb stopped paying attention as he exited the freeway and rear-ended me. I crashed into the car in front of mine,” she went on, and I knew why she had thought about keeping it to herself. “It isn’t worth getting worked up over. You don’t need to get mad about it. I’m fine. If I could have hidden it from you of all people, I would have.