I could tell she was nervous by the way she stepped toward me. She looked shaky, and her eyes were wide with,
from what I could guess, fear. For good reason, too. Unlike my father, I knew she’d meant to send those divorce
papers, and I hated her for it. For not warning either of us. So I shot her a warning glare and moved away when she
approached me. This must have confirmed her worries, because her glance sank to the floor and she focused on
the toe of her stiletto.
“I’ve missed you, Bianca,” my mother said.
“Sure you have.”
“Did you finish signing her out, Mrs. Piper?” the secretary asked, returning to her chair behind the tall desk.
“Yes, I did,” Mom said. Her voice found its smooth, natural tone again. “So are we free to go, warden?”
“You’re released,” the secretary laughed. She fluffed her hair and added, “And I wanted you to know, I bought a
copy of your book. It has been such a lifesaver for me. I read it once a month.”
Mom smiled. “Oh, thank you! Glad to meet one of the ten people who’ve actually read it.”
The secretary beamed at her. “It changed my life.”
I rolled my eyes.
Everyone loved my mother. She was funny, intelligent, and gorgeous. She looked a lot like Uma Thurman—as far
from being the Duff as you could possibly get. All of her flaws were hidden behind that pretty face, and her smile
could deceive people into believing she was perfect. The secretary, who giggled and waved as Mom led me out of
the school, was just another fool.
“Where exactly are we going?” I didn’t bother to shield her from my bitterness. She deserved it.
“Um I don’t know,” Mom admitted. Her heels clacked on the smooth pavement as she walked. The sound
stopped when we reached her car, a red Mustang that looked like it had been lived in for a few days. It wasn’t hard
to tell she’d driven here all the way from Orange County. “Somewhere with heat?” She was trying to sound perky.
“I’m freezing my booty off.”
“If you put some decent clothes on, you might not have that problem.” I yanked open the passenger’s side door and
pushed some junk out of the seat before sliding in. “Sorry this isn’t California. It gets cold here.”
“Oh, California isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Mom said. She looked tense as she got into the car, and her bubbly
laugh was clearly nervous, not humorous. “It’s not as fun as the movies make it look, you know?”
“Really? That’s weird. You seem to like it better than Hamilton. But then again, you like to be anywhere but here,
don’t you?”
The laughter died, and the car became silent. Mom started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Finally, with
all of her veils shredded, she whispered, “Bianca, we have to talk about this. I don’t think you understand what I’m
going through right now.”
“Yeah, it looks tough, Mom,” I snapped. “Nice tan, by the way. I know Orange County must have been a real
hellhole. How did you manage?”
“Bianca Lynne Piper, I won’t take that attitude from you!” she shouted. “Despite what you think of me right now, I am
still your mother, and I deserve a certain amount of respect.”
“Really?” I snorted. “Like the respect you showed Dad by sending fucking divorce papers without warning him? Or
me! For God’s sake, Mother, what the hell is the matter with you?”
More silence.
I knew this would get us nowhere. I knew I should listen to her, consider her side, and share my feelings reasonably.
I’d seen enough Dr. Phil to know we needed to compromise, but I didn’t want to. Selfish, childish, immature I
might have been all of those things, but my father’s face, the empty beer bottles I’d picked up last week, and the
stupid divorce papers just kept popping into my mind. Listen? Consider? Be reasonable? How were those even
options? She was just as childish and selfish as me. The only difference was that she hid it better.
Mom let out a slow breath before pulling the car over to the side of the road. She shut off the engine without saying
a word, and I stared out my window at an empty field, which would be full of high cornstalks when summer finally
showed up. The gray February sky said everything. Cold. Bleak. A wasted day. A wasted effort. But I wouldn’t
speak first. I would let her be the adult for once in her life.
Seconds ticked by. The only sound in the car was our breathing. Mom gave short, hesitant gasps, as if she were
on the verge of speaking but changed her mind before the first word could escape her lips. I waited.
“Bianca,” she said eventually. We’d been quiet for at least five minutes. “I’m. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t want it to end like this.” The way her voice cracked made me wonder if she was crying, but I didn’t turn my
head. “I haven’t been happy for a long time, and after your grandma died, your dad suggested I take a trip. I thought
it might help. Like I’d escape for a little while, give a few speeches in different towns, then come back and
everything would be better. Go back to how it used to be when your dad and I first got married. But..,”
Her long, thin fingers trembled as they closed around my hand. Reluctantly, I faced her. There were no tears on her
cheeks, but I could see a misty glitter in her eyes. The dam just hadn’t broken yet.
“But I was wrong,” she said. “I thought I could escape from my problems, but I was so wrong, Bianca. No matter
where you go or what you do to distract yourself, reality catches up with you eventually. I came home, and after a
few days, I felt it again, so I’d leave on another trip. I’d stay away a little longer, book a few more places to speak,
go a little farther away until I couldn’t go any farther at all. It caught up with me on the other side of the country,
and I I had to face it.”
“Face what?”
“That I don’t want to be with your dad anymore.” She looked down at our hands, still twined together. “I love your
dad very much, but I’m not in love with him not the way he’s in love with me. That’s cliché as heck, but it’s true. I
can’t keep lying and pretending things are okay with us. I’m sorry.”
“So you want a divorce?”
“Yes.”
I sighed and looked out the window again. Still gray. Still cold.
“You’ll have to tell Dad,” I said. “He thinks it was a mistake. He doesn’t think you you could ever do that to us.”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
The answer didn’t really surprise me, even though the word just kind of flew out automatically. I wanted to hate her.
Not so much for the divorce; as much as she’d been gone for the past few years, the idea of living with a single
parent wasn’t all that new or upsetting. And honestly, I’d been expecting them to separate for a while. Really, I’d
wanted to hate her for Dad. For the pain I knew she was causing him. For that night he’d relapsed.
But it hit me then. She didn’t cause that relapse. I could blame her all I wanted, but that wouldn’t do any good. She
had to take responsibility for her own life, and Dad had to do the same. By staying married, letting things go on the
way they had for the past three years, they’d both be living in denial.
My mother was finally facing reality. Dad would have to face it, too.
“I don’t hate you, Mom.”
The sky had been black for hours by the time Mom dropped me off in the high school parking lot, where we’d left
my car. We’d spent the afternoon just driving around Hamilton and talking about all that she’d missed. The same
way we did every time she came back from a tour. Only this time, she wouldn’t be coming home. At least not to
stay.
“I’m gonna go see your dad now I guess,” Mom said. “Maybe you should spend the night with Casey, honey. I just
don’t know how he’ll react. That’s a lie. I do know how he’ll react, and it won’t be good.”
I nodded, hoping she was wrong—though our definitions of not good were different. I hadn’t mentioned his relapse
to her, mostly since it had passed without any significant drama. She was afraid of tears and yelling—the things
that should be expected with a confrontation of this kind. I didn’t want to make her worry about the drinking, too.
Especially since it hadn’t really been that big a deal in the end.
“God,” she whispered. “I feel horrible. I’m telling my husband I want a divorce on Valentine’s Day. I’m such a... a...
bitch. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow and—”
“You have to tell him, Mom. If you put it off now, you’ll never do it.” I unfastened my seat belt. “I’ll call Casey and see
if I can stay with her. You should go now before it gets too late.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I will.”
I opened the door of the Mustang and climbed out. “It’ll be fine.”
Mom shook her head and fiddled with the keys dangling from the ignition. “You shouldn’t have to be the grown-up,”
she murmured. “I’m the mother. I should be comforting you, telling you it will be okay. This is so dysfunctional.”
“Functionality is overrated.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mom. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she sighed. “I love you, Bianca.”
“You, too.”
“Bye, baby.”
I shut the door and stepped away from the car. With my smile still firmly intact, I waved and watched as the little red
Mustang drifted out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway, where it hesitated as if debating whether or not
to proceed. But my mother drove on. So I kept waving.
As soon as the taillights vanished, I allowed the smile to slip from my face. Yes, I knew things would be okay. Yes, I
knew Mom was doing the right thing. Yes, I knew this was a step in the right direction for both my parents. But I
knew Dad wouldn’t see it that way at least not at first. I’d smiled to reassure Mom, but for Dad I hung my head.
I pulled the car keys out of my back pocket and unlocked the door. After throwing my stuff onto the passenger’s
seat, I climbed inside and shut the door, putting a wall between my already shaking body and the February night.
For several minutes, I just sat in the silent car, trying not to think or worry about my parents.
That was impossible, of course.
I reached a hand into my purse and began sifting through the clutter of gum wrappers and pens. Finally, I located
my cell phone. I pulled it out and paused with my thumb poised over the keypad.
I didn’t call Casey.
I waited through three rings before I got an answer.
“Hey. It’s Bianca. Um, are you still busy?”
“Are you kidding me?”
I gawked at the giant flat-screen, feeling my face get hot. Again? Seriously? That was the tenth time in a row
Wesley had beaten me since I’d arrived an hour earlier. I’d half expected to find some leggy blonde sneaking out of
his bedroom when I walked up the steps, but the scene I found was quite different. Wesley was playing Soulcalibur
IV. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I’d challenged him.
My God, I had to find something I could beat him at!
And you know, something about beating the shit out of an animated character really made me feel better. Before I
knew it, I wasn’t even worried about Mom or Dad. Things would be okay. They had to be. I just had to be patient
and let things happen. And in the meantime, I had to kick Wesley’s ass or try, at least.
“I told you, I’m awesome at everything,” he teased, putting the PS3 controller on the floor between us. “That
includes video games.”
I watched as the character Wesley had been operating moved across the screen, doing some sort of odd victory
dance. “Not fair,” I muttered. “Your sword was bigger than mine.”
“My sword is bigger than everyone’s.”
I lobbed my controller at his head, but of course he ducked and made me miss. Damn it. “Perv.”
“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You walked right into that one, Duffy.”
I scowled at him for a moment, but I could feel the aggravation slipping away. Finally, I just shook my head and
smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I did leave that one wide open. But you know, boys that talk big never are.”
Wesley frowned. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve proved it to you plenty of times.” He smirked, then leaned
against me, letting his lips brush against my ear. “But I can prove it again if you want me to and you know you
want me to.”
“I I don’t think that’s necessary,” I managed. His lips were moving down my neck, sending an electric current up
my spine.
“Oh,” he growled playfully. “I do.”
I laughed as he shoved me to the floor, one of his hands perfectly catching the space above my left hip where I was
most ticklish. He’d discovered that spot a couple of weeks ago, and I was furious with myself for letting him use it
against me. Now he could make me squirm and laugh uncontrollably whenever he wanted, and I could tell that he
totally got off on it. Jerk.
His fingers probed the sensitive spot over my hip as his mouth moved from my collarbone to my ear. I was laughing
so hard I could barely breathe. Not fair. So not fair. I made a halfhearted attempt to kick him away, but he trapped
my leg between his and proceeded to tickle me harder.
Just when I thought I might pass out from lack of oxygen, I felt something vibrate in my back pocket. “Stop, stop!” I
cried, shoving Wesley away. He rolled off me, and I stumbled to my feet, trying to catch my breath, and took my
phone out of my pocket. I expected it to be Mom, letting me know how things had gone with Dad—putting any
worries I might still have at ease—but when I glanced at the ID, my stomach lurched.
“Oh, shit. Casey.” I looked down at Wesley, still lying on the floor, his hands tucked behind his head. His T-shirt had
ridden up a little, and I could just make out his hip bones, peeking out beneath the green fabric. “Don’t say
anything,” I told him. “She cannot know I’m here.” I flipped open the phone then and said, as smoothly as I could,
“Hello?”
“Hey.” She sounded pissed. “What the hell happened to you tonight? Jess said the three of us were meeting for
Valentine’s Day, but you never showed.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Something came up.”
“Bianca, you’ve been saying that a lot lately. Something is always coming up or you have plans or”
Suddenly, I felt Wesley’s breath hit the back of my neck. He’d gotten up from the floor and slid up behind me
without me realizing it. His arms slid around my waist from behind, his fingers undoing the button of my jeans
before I could stop him.
“and Jess had her hopes up that we’d do something fun”
I couldn’t focus on a word Casey was saying as Wesley’s hand slid beneath the waistband of my pants, his fingers
moving lower and lower.
I couldn’t say a word. I couldn’t tell him to stop or show any reaction at all. If I did, Casey would know I wasn’t alone.
But, God, I could feel my whole body turning into a ball of fire. Wesley was laughing against my neck, knowing he
was driving me crazy.
“I just don’t understand what’s up with you.”
I bit my lip to keep from gasping as Wesley’s fingers slipped to places that made my knees shake. I could feel the
smirk on his lips as they moved to my ear. Asshole. He was trying to torture me. I couldn’t handle it much longer.
“Bianca, are you there?”
Wesley bit my earlobe and pushed my jeans even lower with his free hand as the other continued to make me
shiver.
“Casey, I have to go.”
“What? B, I—”
I snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the floor. I pushed Wesley’s arms away from me and spun around to
face him. Sure enough, he was grinning.
“You son of a—”
“Hey,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “You said not to say anything. You didn’t say I couldn’t—”
I dove for my abandoned video game controller and clicked the button that would restart the match, determined to
teach him a lesson for messing with me like that. I’d already gotten in a few good blows before Wesley was able to
retrieve his own controller and fight back.
“And you accuse me of being a cheater,” he said, blocking the punch my gladiator girl threw at him.
“Well, you deserve it,” I snapped, furiously tapping attack buttons.
It didn’t matter. Even with my dramatic head start, he still beat me. Damn it.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Duffy.” Wesley turned to grin at me, his gray eyes sparkling with cocky triumph.
Why did he have to say that? I wondered as my thoughts drifted back to my parents. Had Mom broken the news
to Dad yet? Were they fighting? Or crying?
“Bianca.”
I realized I’d been biting my lip a little too hard as the metallic taste of blood touched the tip of my tongue. I blinked
at Wesley, who was watching me closely. He stared at me for a long moment, but instead of asking me what was
wrong or if I’d be okay, he picked up his controller again. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take it easy on you this time.”
I forced a smile. Everything would work itself out. It had to. “Don’t be stupid,” I told Wesley. “I’m going to kick your
ass this time. I’ve just been holding back.”
He laughed, knowing I was full of shit. “We’ll see about that.”
And we started another game.
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