Page 43 of Frost Bitten
By the time Mom gets home, we are giggling, making hot chocolate, and throwing marshmallows at each other. She joins in just long enough to mess up her hair with marshmallow sugar dust, which may have been my fault, dumping the bag of marshmallows over her head. Lily cracks up laughing, though, and Mom and I just grin at each other. Until, that is, I pluck a marshmallow from her hair and pop it in my mouth. Of course, that sets Lily off giggling hysterically, and Mom has to shush her and corral her into the bathroom to shower.
Luckily, I have the kitchen cleaned up by the time Mom comes back out. Otherwise, she might have voiced her opinions about having a mess to clean up when she gets home. I love my mom; she’s an absolutely amazing mother. I feel bad, she’s been working so damn hard since we arrived in Golden. She used to spend hours with us, helping us learn, taking hikes, and teaching us all the things she knows about being a strong, self-assured woman. Jason caused a hiccup, but those years on the road were some of the best.
Now I can see how tired she is, trying to provide a roof over our heads and make car payments for us both. We don’t see her as much, but we value the time we do get to spend together even more. Part of me, especially when I have such heavy secrets, really wishes she was home more. I could use the Mom I had five months ago.
Mom makes her way back into the kitchen. She grabs a glass of water and sits, watching as I finish the cleanup for tonight.
“Are you ok, sweetheart?” she asks softly.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, but I think things are getting better.”
“I’m glad, hun,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t want my needs to be a burden for you.”
“Mom, you are the least of my worries, but I’ve got it under control. Don’t worry.”
“Ok, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
She stands and walks from the room as I’m packing the last of the prepped food away, and I can’t help but feel abandoned. I know my mom is here, but the way she knew something was wrong, but just took my words at face value, brushing off her own suspicions, makes me feel like I really shouldn’t have issues. Like, who the fuck am I? I’m no one, and having all the issues I have is so fucking needy. Tears sting my eyes, and I can’t help the sniffle. Did I cause this? Am I the reason for everything?
I run to my room and fall on my bed, fucking exhausted from the day. What a fucking emotional rollercoaster. I woke up stressed, then had the chaos of emotions and hormones at work, then the stress of shopping. Even tonight with Lily – I had fun, but I think that it put more pressure on me. Mom dismissing her concerns at the drop of a hat with my weak reassurance just tipped everything over the edge.
I can’t help the feelings of despair over the time that’s running out. It’s already Thanksgiving. I’ve done nothing to prepare my friends and family for the inevitability of me having to go with Jason. It’s not like I want to, but what choice do I have? It’s not like I can fight him off – he’s already proven once that he’s stronger than I am. The tears burn my eyes as they saturate my pillow. Luckily, sleep claims me fast, and I don’t have to worry about any of the anxiety until tomorrow.
* * *
Thursday dawns bright and crisp. The cool weather seems to refresh me, and my mood appears to be stable as I get up to run to the bathroom. I wash my face and quickly pull back my hair – it’s time to prepare for Thanksgiving! Even though I won’t get to eat it. I’ll be leaving with Corey around two-thirty this afternoon. I tiptoe out to the kitchen, and it doesn’t look like anyone else is awake yet. Starting the coffee pot, I return to my room for my thick robe and slippers before sneaking out to the balcony.
The morning is clear, and the glisten of a light dusting of snow reflects the morning light. We must have had a quick system move through because that snow wasn’t here yesterday. I can’t help but admire the crispness in the air. It looks to be perfect weather for a cabin in the mountains, and I’m looking forward to the weekend. I need to pack, but I have to get the turkey on and start the side dishes.
By the time I’ve had my coffee, Mom and Lily are awake. Mom takes on Lily’s breakfast while I get dressed for the day and start organizing the meal. I get the turkey in the oven and make sure the mashed potatoes, gravy, and fresh green beans are all ready to be heated, along with both an apple and a pumpkin pie. Nibbling at the veggie tray Lily and I picked up last night is how I stave off my hunger while preparing the entire meal that I won’t be eating. I’m ready to be done, but the parade is still on and will be for a bit, so I power through, determined to make it till the parade ends.
When Santa does finally make his appearance in the parade, I cheer loudly, like I’m still a kid. I know Lily doesn’t “believe” anymore, but I’m all about the Christmas spirit and totally believe today is the start of the season for Christmas. I’ve always been one to get excited over Christmas, and I let myself get carried away – until I remember… One month… And a week… that’s all I have left.
No one seems to notice, so I hold faith that for now, I’m not hurting anyone. I’d hate to hurt my family, so I know I need to work on an exit strategy. I need to figure out a way to finish this next month, while also determining a way to get away from Mom and Lily without causing them distress. That in itself is the most concerning part to me. I don’t care how much I suffer through, as long as they don’t suffer at all.
Once we snack enough to become full, I excuse my morose self. I’m halfway to tears again, but I resign myself to pull it together. Since I'll only be gone for four days, I pack a smaller suitcase. I’m ready for a change of scenery, because holy hell, my emotions are chaotic, especially here at home.
* * *
Corey picks me up and guarantees me that Bast and Cameron will ensure I have a full belly tonight. He tells me that Dominic got a late start, and he got there just recently. Which, honestly, sucks for food preparation. He says that Bast has a spread from Ms. Sally, and honestly, the one meal I ate that she cooked was spectacular, so I have no concerns. I bet Ms. Sally even made sweet potato casserole, a Southern staple.
Corey and I chat and enjoy the trip. It takes longer than I expect, maybe two or three hours? I lose track of time as we talk.
“So,” he continues with the next topic, “how are things going with Bast?”
My eyes widen as I spin toward him. I make eye contact, and I wish to all the gods that he would just dismiss the question and change the subject. Instead, he glances over at me, curiously.
“I mean,” I mutter, “I guess things are okay?” I glance away, turning to peer out the window into the blinding whiteness of the mountainside.
“And just how ‘okay’ are things?” he questions, focusing his gaze on me when he turns his head away from the road. He doesn’t seem nervous, but his fixation on the matter is unnerving. It’s like he’s been assigned a task, and he has to finish it.
Emboldened by his question, I turn to him and ask, “And just what do you mean, Corey? Are you asking if I’ve fucked Bast?”
“Yes.”
Well then.“Um, well, yes. That happened Tuesday.”
