Page 29 of Another Last Call
“I don’t know why you think it’s okay to—”
“You have no idea!” My face was burning, and I threw the menu I was holding onto the couch. “Mom, he’s a fucking asshole!”
“Oh, is he?” she asked, her voice high-pitched. “Is hesuchan asshole, Maggie? What the hell did he do that made you go from rushing out of the bar to see him, to telling him to get out of my bar?”
“He’s… when I… what does it matter? Why can’t you take my word for it?”
“Because you couldn’t even tell him why you’re mad at him!” she exploded. “You are my daughter, and I know you better than anyone. I know exactly what your face looks like when you realize you’re being unreasonable because trust me, I’ve seen that face in the fucking mirror.”
“I barely look like you,” I muttered.
“Refusing to acknowledge what I’ve just said because you know I’m right? Check,” she said. “Classic Myers move, Maggie. I should know. I perfected it.”
“Right, because you know everything.”
“I’m not a moron, Maggie. I heard what you said, and all I can damn well hope is that you were safe when you slept with that boy—”
My mouth dropped open. “Mom—!”
“—I’m not done! You’re a grown woman, it’s your choice what you do. But if you’re going to act like a grown woman, you need toactlike agrownwoman. What in the fuck did he do that was so bad that you just told him to get out of my bar?”
“Nothing!” The word came out loud and sharp, heat burning my face as I finally said it. “He didn’t do anything specific. You’re right. He’s just another fucking rich, spoiled tourist. His ‘cabin’ is four times the size of our house. He’s renovating it with more money than I’ll ever see in my life. And it pisses me off because he made me think he was different, just like the asshole who was my dad made you think he was different.”
Her shoulders tensed at that, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing.
“But no, Caleb didn’tdoanything specific. He wants me to explain why I’m mad and I didn’t expect him to actually give a fuck. And so now I’m supposed to tell him I’m mad because I’ll never be the kind of person who understands why heated fucking floors are so goddamn important and I don’t know how I’m supposed to be friends with someone who does. And yes, I hear how fuckingstupidthat sounds, but I can’t help it. He’s got the whole world and doesn’t think it’s enough.”
The words hung between us and Mom stared at me. I waited for her to start yelling at me again, my fists clenched as I braced myself.
But I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready for her to walk around to the other side of her desk. I wasn’t ready for the calm way that she sat down in her desk chair or for the way she kept her shoulders square as she sat with impeccable posture.
And I wasnotready for her to burst into tears.
My mom was not the crying type. Any woman who lived life like her didn’t have time for tears. She wasn’t close to her parents, so when they died, I didn’t see her cry. She didn’t have time to watch movies, and when she did, she watched comedies and not tearjerkers. The closest I’d ever seen my mother to tears was when I graduated high school and caught the slightest glimpse of wetness in the corner of her eye as I posed for a photo shaking my principal’s hand.
So that sight? The sight of my mom sobbing like I didn’t even know was possible for her?
It was terrifying.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said.
She kept crying.
“I didn’t think… Mom, please don’t—I’ll go tell Caleb I’m sorry. Or… or something. I won’t—”
“It’s not that.”
I looked around, frantically helpless. “Then what… are you… are you sick? Are you dying?”
She let out a dry laugh. “Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t cry over something as menial as that.”
I finally managed to make myself useful and pushed the box of tissues on her desk towards her. “Then what’swrong?”
It took a moment longer for her to calm down enough to take one of the tissues. Then she blew her nose loudly, took a deep breath, picked up a tore-open envelope off her desk, and handed it to me.
“Maggie,” she said as I opened the envelope. “We’re losing the bar.”
