Things We Didn't Say - By Kristina Riggle Page 0,52
not hungry.”
“Eat something small.”
“I don’t feel well.”
“Then don’t drink that coffee. It’s acidic.”
She pours out the coffee and slams the mug down on the counter. For a moment I remember her mother, hurling another mug from that same set. They look so very much alike, and I recognize the expression on Angel’s face now, as Mallory Furious.
“I don’t want to see you starving yourself.”
“God.” She leans hard on the kitchen counter, folds her arms. “Is this what it’s going to be like now? Dylan acts like an idiot and runs away and I’m under surveillance?”
“Can’t you see that I love you? And I don’t want you making yourself sick?”
She looks at me sideways now, a wet strand of hair hanging over one eye. In the silence there’s a sad awareness of how rarely I’ve said out loud, “I love you.”
“I’m fine,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t take Dylan’s problems out on me.”
Mallory approaches from behind me. I’d almost forgotten she was here, she’d been so quiet with Jewel in the living room, no sound but the racket of commercials and dopey Nickelodeon shows.
“What’s your problem now, Mike?”
“I’m worried. She’s not eating.”
“Of course she’s not! I’m not eating today, either.”
Mallory walks to Angel and folds her in a hug, and together they walk out, arm in arm, looking even more alike from the back, as they retreat from me.
Does she think I don’t love her? How could she think that? I stayed with their mother years longer than I should have, because I couldn’t bear to be apart from my children. I kept them with me after the split instead of surrendering them to Mallory’s unpredictability, I have given up any life outside of work, home, and one hour at the gym . . .
Not true, I correct myself, sinking down into a kitchen chair, my bones so tired they have a will of their own. Not true because I dated Casey, fell in love, and moved her in.
And now Casey and Angel spark up against each other like flint and tinder, have been for weeks, and it’s only been worse of late. And yet still Casey is here. Maybe Angel thinks I’m choosing Casey over her.
Why should I have to choose? I tighten my fist and clench my jaw until my molars hurt.
“Should” is meaningless. Reality is all I’ve got.
Chapter 21
Dylan
Tiffany’s head is in my lap.
This is not really so great.
Because we’re in a mall and she’s asleep and my leg is going to sleep and we’ve been up all night and we’re not in New York City but Cleveland. I’m tired of dragging my sax case around, which is heavy enough even when I haven’t stuffed clothes in it, like it’s a suitcase.
Also? I’m hungry.
I wonder if this is how my dad felt when he married my mom, realizing he’d just made a huge mistake but it’s not like he can just erase it and start over.
My dad would never say it like that; even when they split up, he was always careful to not say anything bad about her, and to say that he never regretted a thing because he’s glad to have us. I bet some days he wishes he could wave a magic wand and have us, and Casey, too, but not our mom. I see what his face looks like when he talks to Mom, like he’s fifteen years older.
I look down at Tiffany and her hair has fallen over her face, so I brush it back. A security guard from the mall walks by, and he glares at us. He’s been by here, like, three times. I should wake her up.
I jiggle my leg a little, but she doesn’t move.
She started out kinda mad at me because I didn’t run into her arms and swing her around like something in a movie when I first saw her, but it wasn’t my fault I was surprised. She didn’t look anything like her picture, and I can’t be blamed for that because it isn’t her, and she admitted it right away. She didn’t think I’d like the real her.
I’m not gonna lie, the picture she sent was prettier. She’s a little heavy, for one thing, and she’s got some pimples that she covers up with this orangey makeup. But that’s not her fault, and anyway, I like her because we talk and the things we say, and that’s what I told her. And I hugged her and it was nice.