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Thirteen
Henley
2009
“You don’t have to walk me home, Conner.” I risk a quick look in his direction, his near-perfect profile illuminated by the glow of the streetlight.
It’s after eight. His mom insisted I stay for dinner, which was weird. Declan, Conner’s older brother, kept staring at us while his mother explained to their dad that I was tutoring Conner in calculus. Mr. Gilroy divides an odd look between us before looking at his wife. Whatever he sees on her face seems to clear up his confusion.
“Well, if you can bring this knucklehead to heel, it’ll be worth every penny,” he says, waving his fork in Conner’s direction. “Afraid you’ve got your work cut out for you, Henley. Dumb as a box of doorknobs, that one.”
Across the table, Declan laughs before scooting his chair back from the table. “Can I be excused?” he says, picking up his plate before standing. “Some friends and I are going to the movies.”
“What friends?” Mrs. Gilroy asks, eyeing her oldest son.
“Ryan, Dean. Caleb—” He shoots a look at us. “Want to go, Con? We can drop Henley off on the way.”
Beside me, Conner stiffens slightly. “No,” he says, before looking down at his plate, his jaw goes tight like he wants to say something but can’t.
Satisfied, his mom nods. “Be home by midnight,” his mom says.
“Always am,” Declan says before carrying his plate into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the back door slams shut.
After dinner, Mr. Gilroy walked us to the door. “Thanks again, for taking this on,” he says. Reaching for my hand, he stuffs a wad of money into it. Unless it’s a bunch of one-dollar bills, it’s entirely too much.
“No, Mr. Gilroy,” I say, trying to give it back. “That’s too much—”
“Did I mention how dumb he is?” His dad shoots him a look, and Conner laughs.
“Thanks, Dad.” He doesn’t sound hurt or offended by his dad’s insult. He sounds relieved. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Just get her home safe, son,” Mr. Gilroy says, patting Conner on the shoulder as we pass through the door before shutting it behind us.
Now, Conner shoots me a quick smile. “Are you kidding?” he says. “My mom tells me to walk you home, I’m walking you home. Because I want to live.”
“Your mom is great,” I say, laughing because I can’t imagine Mrs. Gilroy as anything but nice.
“She is great.” He smiles again, this time there’s nothing quick about it. “She’s also kinda scary.” It spreads slowly across his face, showing me just how much he loves her. How proud he is that she’s his mom. I envy him a lot of things. His mother is at the top of the list.
“I’d take your scary mom over mine any day,” I say, laughing to make the admission sound like a joke.
“Your mom’s not that bad,” he says, and I laugh because we both know he’s just being nice.
“She’s been on this weird kick lately,” I tell him. “Ladies don’t swear. Ladies don’t fight. Ladies don’t play baseball… I miss baseball.” I shrug, suddenly feeling weird about what I’m doing. Confiding in Conner Gilroy. Like he could ever understand what it’s like to be me. “Anyway, I liked it better when she ignored me.”
We round the corner there’s a car parked outside my building. Not just a car. A nice car. One that has a driver who circles around and opens your door for you when you’re ready to get out.
I watch it happen, the driver opening the rear passenger door, holding out his hand to help my mother from the back of the vehicle.
She’s beautiful.
It’s a weird thing to think when you’re being slapped in the face with the fact that your mom is cheating on your dad but that’s what I think. The way her soft auburn hair glows like fire in the shine of the street lamp. Her smooth, ivory skin that she’s always taken care to hide from the sun. Her wide brown eyes. Her full mouth and perfect nose.
My mother is beautiful.
And I hate her.
As soon as she’s out, she turns and leans forward, stooping down to talk to whoever’s still in the car while the driver circles back to his station behind the wheel.