walking with me and has stopped right outside the door. Her fingers move quickly on her phone as she texts.
"Are you going to wait for Kyle at the dorm?" I walk back to her side. “I can drop you off before I head to my parents’ house.”
"No, it's okay. Kyle just texted and said he'll meet me here,” she says, hugging me tightly. “I’m coming back home tonight with wine and chocolate. Hug your mother for me, okay?”
“Thanks,” I say, then I turn toward the parking lot and walk to my car.
It's 5:42 p.m. by the time I pull onto my parents’ street. The entire drive over my stomach has been in knots. The neighborhood is calm and quiet. There isn’t a soul to be seen, only the memories of my childhood as I pass all the large houses and immaculate landscapes. My parents have done well for themselves. Between my mother being one of the most successful real estate agents in town and my father’s work at the college, they were able to settle in this pretty upscale neighborhood well before I was born. My eyes settle on Jordan’s house in the distance. The large two-story craftsmen style home, which sits directly across from my parents. My mind races with thoughts of my childhood. All the family game nights and epic barbecues. His mother, Lisa, left us last year due to cancer and now my father will become the cancer that tears our family apart. None of this feels real. I pull into the driveway noticing my father’s car isn’t here and take one final deep breath before I get out. I know this is the right thing to do, as much as I’m going to hate it. My mom needs to know what happened and it isn’t fair to make her face this with both of us watching. I’ll just tell her now, and if she wants me to stay, then I will.
My steps are light as I make my way toward the door, mentally rehearsing the words I will tell my mother. The entryway to the house has a large porch with tall flower bushes along its length providing privacy and great shade in the summer. It was my favorite hangout spot when I was a kid and I spent countless hours lounging on my porch swing reading books and hanging out with Jordan. Making my way up the few stairs, I reach into my pocket to grab my house key but movement out the corner of my eye makes me look to my left. On the far end of the porch is my mother, sitting very still in a chair, tears pouring from her eyes.
8
XIA
“Mom?” I spin on my heels and move toward her. “What is it? Where's Dad?”
“I told him to leave,” she says, looking over my shoulder, not making eye contact. Just the sight of her in so much pain causes my heart to splinter.
"He's such a…" My throat feels like it’s closing as I choke on my words. I was about to call my father an asshole. My father. The man who has been everything to me my whole life. The man who I watched treat my mother like a queen. It just doesn't fit. But I guess this proves that even the person you trust most can change into someone you don't recognize.
"I'm sorry," I say, wrapping my arms around her stiff body and pressing my forehead against her shoulder. Small shudders roll through her as she leans against me.
"It's okay, baby, it isn't your fault."
"No, I was trying to get here early to warn you. I'm sorry, I should have just called. I thought I still had enough time to beat him here but I lost track of time during my study session." Moisture springs to my eyes and I turn my head as I attempt to blink it away.
"It's okay," she says, releasing a shaky breath and wiping her cheeks. "I love you for trying to help. I do," she says. Devastation reads plainly on her face and when she finally looks me in the eye it takes all I have not to break down. "But this isn't something I want you to be worried about. It's our mess, not yours."
"I know, but I hate him for doing this to you," I say, continuing to hold back tears. I can't break down. She needs me to be strong for her but if feels like my heart is being stomped on.
"No,