When Chrissy appears midway down the stairs, my promise to her comes to the forefront. No fucking the roommate. So, I release my grip and Paige rushes up the stairs. Chrissy’s eyes focus on me, and her lips do that little twisting thing she does every time she doesn’t believe me. I’m caught, red-handed.
“Let’s go, Chrissy. Thank you so much for helping me.” She bypasses Chrissy, venturing up the stairs without so much as a glance back.
“It’s no problem,” Chrissy says to Paige, while she narrows her eyes at me. Then her two fingers point to her eyes and then point to me.
Jogging up the stairs, I chuckle and swing my arm around her shoulders. “Calm down, Godfather.” I refrain from adding that I’ll keep my promise. Paige is way too tempting to stay clear of and I don’t want to lie to Chrissy.
“PAIGE, PIZZA IS here!” Chrissy yells up the stairs.
Opening my door, I scream, “I’ll be right down!” I shut my door to change into comfy pajama pants and a T-shirt.
My phone rings just as I have one leg into my pants, and I hop over to my phone, lying on my bed, struggling to get my other leg in my pants. I must admit the plum comforter makes the room a little more girly and homey, I think, right before I fall into the mattress.
Grabbing my phone, I check who’s calling before actually answering. When her name flashes, a sigh falls from my mouth and I stare up at the ceiling. Do I really want to endure her today, right before I’m about to spend time with my new roommates? She only leaves me in a bad mood with every one of her phone calls. But knowing she’ll only continue to call until I pick up, I decide I won’t delay the punishment.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
“Hi, sweetie.” I roll my eyes because she’s being overly nice. Which means that she’s fishing for one thing. “How is it going?”
“It’s good. I’m unpacking again. How’s Matty?” I pick at the lint on my pajama pants, patiently waiting for her to ask me.
“He’s good. Fast asleep.”
I glance at my watch, seven o’clock. “Already?”
“He didn’t nap all day and collapsed in front of his chicken nuggets.”
Wanting to redirect this conversation, I stand up to pace. “What do you need?”
A loud huff carries over the line. “Why do you assume I need something?” she snaps.
“Because nine out of ten calls from you, you need money. The other one is requesting my babysitting services.”
“That’s not true, Paige.” I can just imagine her hand resting on her hip as her head rotates on her neck as though it makes the lie more believable.
“So you don’t need anything?”
“Well,” she pauses.
“Thought so.” My shoulders drop. Maybe one day I’ll be wrong about my mother’s selfish intentions. Maybe one day she’ll stand on her own two feet. Yeah right. After I turned eighteen and my dad was no longer mandated to pay child support, her hand turned my way. She’s smart. She knows my dad deposits money into my account every month. I loathe her self-entitlement to everything that’s mine. My anger toward my mom for not being able to take care of herself increases when the figures in my bank account circle through my mind. Am I even able to cover what she considers a necessity?
“Just two hundred. I’m in a bind.” What’s new? She’s always in a life-threatening bind.
“Mom, I just moved in here. I just paid first and last month’s rent, plus a security deposit.” Moving to my purse, I pluck my checkbook out to examine my meager amount.
“Oh, Paige, call your dad. He’ll send you some more.”
Anger boils in my veins. “Who do you think gave me the first and last month’s rent? He pays for my college, my car, and most other things,” I rant, wishing she’d realize his obligation to me doesn’t inadvertently link to her.
“He loves you, he’ll give you more.” Her complete disregard to my relationship with my dad pisses me off.
“He’s asking questions. Wanting to know why I moved. Mom, you can’t tell Carl where I live, okay?” I attempt to be nice again before I disappear and don’t tell her where the hell I’m going. Matty’s the only reason I stick around Western, otherwise, the minute Carl, Matty’s dad, started showing up at my last apartment demanding money, I would have run far away from here. Carl is slimy and couldn’t give a shit about his son. All he cares about is his next fix, and in his eyes, I’m his bank roller.
“It was a slip. Plus he wanted to pick up Matty. What was I supposed to tell him?”
“You should have told him that Matty was with me and would be home the next morning. Or another idea, you could not go out all night, coming back shit-faced, leaving him with me. Be a damn mother for once.” My anger gets the best of me because I can heal from her absence mother figure to me, but I want Matty to have more.
On cue, sniffles ring over the line and I’m not sure if she’s faking or if she’s truly upset about the person she’s become. She’s a Grammy Award-winning actress most of the time.
“I’m sorry, Paigey. I swear I’ll get it together. But Matty really wants to play T-ball this year, and I just don’t have the money.”
“And dickhead can’t pay for his son to play baseball?”
More sniffles and a blow of her nose. She’s really laying it on tonight. “He barely pays child support. You think he’ll pay for this? Matty’s been begging me all day; supposedly he heard another kid in school talking about it.”
Before she continues on and I offer more than the two hundred, I intercept. “Okay, come by tomorrow and I’ll write a check to the park district.” I specify to whom because cash isn’t an option this time around.
“Oh great! I’ll be by. Where do you live again?”
“You know what, I just remembered. I have class early. I’ll meet you at McDonalds at noon.” I dodge her because I don’t want her to know where I live just to relay it back to dip shit.
“Perfect, thanks Paigey. I love you and have fun with your new roommates.” Click. The line goes dead and I press the red button on my screen then throw the phone on my bed.
Investigating my checkbook balance again, I whimper to myself because after my mom’s loan, I either ask my dad to deposit more money into my account, get a job, or starve. Not wanting to ask my dad for anything more, I opt to find a job. Tomorrow, I’ll search after I give my mom the money. Hopefully I find something fast.
Grabbing some bills from my wallet, I jog down the stairs, hearing the laughter floating in from the kitchen. Jealousy smacks me in the face with their close friendships. Ever since I was younger, I struggled with forming true friends that weren’t in it for themselves. Having your father be the lead guitarist for the oldest rock ‘n’ roll band does that.
Speaking of lead guitarists, I stop at the bottom of the oak railing staircase, noticing Rob emerging from the kitchen.
When he spots me, my pulse speeds up as I watch his eyes roam up and down my body. “Nice pants.” He laughs and I glance down realizing the ones I scrambled to toss on. Ugh, I need to upgrade my lounging wear from ‘Bacon makes everything better’ pajama pants.
“It does.” I shrug, proud of them nonetheless.
“I’ll try that next time, but I promise nothing makes sex better than me.” He winks and I grip the railing to hold myself up. “But we can try Bacon in the mix to test if the theory is true.”
This guy extracts laughs out of me every time his mouth opens. “Trust me, Bacon makes everything better,” I repeat the text splattered on my pants. “Maybe if you fry up a pan of bacon, you’d have a chance with me.” I flirt, sliding past him.
He lightly cups my elbow and I shift toward him. “Don’t tease.” His eyes smolder and I’m about ten seconds from letting him kidnap me up these stairs with bacon or not.