Only With You

06 | meteor

"Ari," Luna says, "it's Trudy."

Two words that never fail to make my hair stand on end. Luna peeks out the window beside her bed.

"What?" I rush over to her and rip back the curtain, and my blood instantly boils.

Trudy Watson, my mother, stands next to some rusty pickup truck by the curb in a pair of dixie shorts and a dark red tank top, an outfit eerily similar to the one I'm wearing.

"Christ, what is she doing here?" I say.

Luna backs away from the window. "I don't want her anywhere near me, Aria."

"Don't worry, she's not getting in." I'll never let Trudy near Luna again, not after what she did when we were teenagers.

"Are you gonna go talk to her?" Luna asks.

I close the curtains. "Fuck, I really don't want to. But she won't leave until I come out."

Groaning, Luna turns to the mirror and swipes clear gloss over her lips. "Why can't she just leave us alone?"

"No idea."

"I don't get it. She disappeared for years after your seventeenth, and suddenly she's back again?"

"I know, I can't stand her."

I didn't even know Trudy until I was sixteen. Dad had told me about her, of course, but we both figured she'd never return to Saxondale. Until she did. Until when I was sixteen, she decided to show up out of the blue to "get to know her daughter."

Yeah, right. My life was okay until that bitch crashed into it like a fuckin' meteor.

But as much as I genuinely dislike her, my mother has a devilish charm, even on her fortieth year of life. So I know to pack ammunition—enough verbal bullets to fight off whatever she's about to hurl at me.

"Be right back," I tell Luna. "I'll go deal with her."

Outside, the afternoon sun is hot and dry on my skin. I keep my arms crossed as I trek across our lawn to the curb, where Trudy stands at attention, a cigarette pressed to her bubblegum-painted lips. Tacky.

"Jesus," she says, "what happened to your face, girl?"

Cass happened. "What are you doing here, Trudy?"

"That any way to talk to your own mother?"

"Save the bullshit. You're not my mother." I don't have one of those.

"Come on." She grins, showing off her decaying teeth. I know once upon a time, Trudy looked just like me—we have the same caramel-brown hair and eyes that match—but a combination of age and drugs haven't been her friend. When she checks out my body, I know what's coming. "You got me to thank for your good looks," Trudy says, "and that little body of yours."

"Okay, gross." I step back. "What are you doing here?"

"Look, I was cruising through the neighbourhood and thought I'd come see my girls. Luna in there?"

"Stay away from Luna. She doesn't want to see you."

"All right, Jesus. Chill out. I'm not her mother anyway. I came to see you."

"See me and do what?"

Trudy slaps the hood of her truck. "Wanna go for a cruise? Catch up a little?"

I peek inside. "There's not some guy in there, is there?"

"No, honey. Just me and my things."

The back of the truck is filled with suitcases and fast food wrappers and junk. Real nice.