His Dark Words

16 | Pretty in Pink

 "I thought we could always talk about anything. That's what I loved about our relationship."

"Mom..."

She sits across from me at the kitchen table, hands clasped around a mug of chamomile tea, looking exhausted in her ancient dressing gown with its holes and faded tartan.

"But I feel like over the last few weeks you've drifted away from me and I don't know how to fix things."

"It's not like that."

"Come on, Harlow, we never hang out anymore, I only know that you got invited to Prom because I happened to bump into Vanessa's Mom in the grocery store. Why are you pushing me away all of a sudden? Is this about your Dad?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Can't it be about me? Just for once? Or can it be about nothing, maybe?"

"I talked to your Grandma, she was really hurt that you didn't want to see them this weekend."

I jump up from my chair, surprising even myself, "why do you even care? You hate them!"

"I don't hate them." She recoils at my explosive passion. "Things were... Are complicated but they're still your grandparents."

"Really? They haven't been my grandparents for the last thirteen years though, have they? How come these big, huge changes are made and no one even consults me? How come I'm just supposed to adjust to everything, like it's so easy? How come I'm the last person, the absolute last person that anyone thinks of!" 

I'm out of breath I'm so angry, out of nowhere it all just boiled up and jumped out at my mom.

"I... I think about you all the time Harlow." She says in a very quiet voice. "You're my whole world, I love you."

I wish she'd shouted back, said anything rather than that.

"I'm trying my very hardest." She's trying to hold back the emotion in her voice, trying to stop herself from crying.

And just like that I can feel my anger fizzle out, like she dumped cold water on me.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She takes a moment to compose herself. "I'm really happy you're going to Prom. Who is he, is he a nice boy?"

Was Austin nice? I think about it. I don't know if I'd call him nice. "He's... Cool."

"Aha, 'cool' is it?" She's trying to appear cool herself, but her eyes are still swimming with unshed tears. "Hopefully he's not the riding motorcycles, smoking cigarettes kind of cool?"

"No, not at all." I give her a weak smile.

"Well, I'd like to meet him, preferably before he takes you out on any more dates."

I shift awkwardly, I don't exactly know if I want her to meet Austin. I don't know how I feel about him. I picture his hand slowly sliding up my leg.

She can see how uncomfortable I am, that I'm not telling her something and I know this hurts her, like, really, really hurts her.

"Do you know what you're going to wear to Prom?" She says in an attempt to gloss over all the hurt feelings of that evening.

"No... I guess I'll borrow something from Vanessa. Can I go to bed, Mom, I'm really tired?"

"Sure kiddo. You go get some rest."

I go to leave but pause in the doorway. "You're not going to sleep too?"

"I will soon. Sleep well, honey."

I leave her there holding her cold tea, looking out into space, thinking... Thinking of what I have no idea, but I feel that gulf that's formed between us and I have no idea how to even begin to bridge it. I tramp upstairs and fall into bed. 

I snuggle down in my covers and think about Austin's eyes... His lips, his fingertips... 

Things between us are happening so fast. I guess because I read his journal I feel like we've been dating for so much longer than we really have. 

I fall asleep and in my dream he knows me just as well as I know him. We're back in his car, he leans over to kiss me, and his hand rests on my knee. 

In my dream he doesn't stop... And I don't stop him...

I wake up to my mom knocking loudly on my bedroom door.

"What is it?" I call out sleepily.

"Can I come in?" She says, already walking in without an answer. "I wanted to let you sleep, but I just couldn't wait any longer!" She's really excited about something. Her face is beaming, and she's already dressed and looks like she's had at least two cups of coffee. "I got to thinking last night: how about I make you a dress for prom?"

I prop myself up on my elbows. "You don't have to do that Mom." I know I sound far from grateful.

"But I want to! Remember how I used to make all of your clothes for you when you were little?"

I pull a face. "I dunno Mom, it's different now."

She laughs. "You wanted that ballerina-frog costume, you insisted I make you it I'll remind you! Come ooooon, it'll be fun! We can go and get the fabric this morning, get some donuts and coffee on the way... Your boyfriend can come too if you like?"

"He's not exactly my boyfriend." I reply with a slight flicker of irritation.

"Okay, okay, sorry I said so! Now, come on, shall we do this?!"

I look at the happiness painted all over her face and relent. "Oooookay, but it can't be green or have a tutu!"

She laughs. "You're the boss!"

She hustles me to get up and dressed as quickly as possible which means I barely have time to run a brush through my hair or put on even a hint of makeup.

It sort of feels like old times to just be the two of us again. It makes me realize that my mom's right: we really haven't spent time together in ages. We get Bear Claws and gigantic cups of coffee from the little bakery near our house then head to a fabric store a few towns over. 

We really should've brought Vanessa with us to mediate. Mom is dead set on recreating a homage to Pretty in Pink and our truce almost ends right there and then in front of bolts and bolts of shiny pink silk. Thankfully we manage to compromise and pick out a shade of dusky pink that fulfils her rose-tinted fantasy whilst also not making me want to hurl.

When we go home, she shuts herself up in her room with her sewing things and I try to do the homework I've been neglecting since Austin swooped into my life. It turns out getting back into the old Harlow routine is harder than I thought it would be. 

I'm relieved when my phone starts to buzz. Please be Austin.

Unknown number

I usually ignore calls from withheld numbers, but I really am desperate for any distraction, so I pick up. 

I wait for a robot voice to question me on my non-existent car insurance.

"Hi, Harlow." says a familiar-ish male voice.

"Hello... Who is this?"

"It doesn't matter. Listen, it's about Austin."

I really can't place that voice. He's making it sound deeper as well, which doesn't help. Is this a prank? This is why I never pick up my stupid phone.

"Yeah...?"

"He isn't what he seems. Or at least he's hiding a lot from you. I just thought you ought to know, you really can't trust him."

Click.

I take the phone away from my ear and just stare at it. I guess my fairy-tale isn't quite as perfect as I'd thought...