Page 92 of This Kind of Forever

We all head into the kitchen, and my mom plunks herself down at the table. Pops tries to help me, but I shoo him away to sit down. I need a minute to myself, to prepare to spend a whole meal with her. At least my wallet is upstairs this time.

I make us some sandwiches, and when I set them down, Mom wastes no time digging in. Conversation is stilted. There are so many topics I avoid talking about with her because I know from experience they’ll only cause a fight. My leaving for school, for example.

Another thing I avoid is my art. That’s mine and mine alone. I don’t even share it with Pops.

After lunch, Pops and I wash the dishes. We have a dishwasher, but we like the routine of washing and drying by hand when we both have the time. I’m going to miss our routines when I’m gone.

Once the dishes are clean, I head to the bathroom. But when I get back to the kitchen, I stop short. Mom has her face buried in my phone. She must have guessed my password.

“What are you doing?”

She flashes the screen at me, showing me the text thread I have with Gabe. “What’s this?”

Gabriel

Meet me at the tree tonight? I wanna tell you something.

Can’t you just tell me now?

Gabriel

Later. It’s better in person.

Okay. I’ll see you later, then.

I try to pull my phone out of her hand, but she brings her arm back, just out of reach.

“Give it back!” My cheeks flame. “That’s private.”

She holds my phone up. “Does your little friend know you’re sneaking around with her brother?”

Guilt sinks to the bottom of my stomach like an anchor. I cross my arms, my shoulders curving. “We’re not sneaking! We’re not doing anything.”

Even to my own ears, I don’t sound convincing, but it’s the truth. Gabe and Ihaven’tdone anything. We may have come close to kissing once, but that’s it.

Mom shakes her head. “It’s not worth it, Hallie. He’ll just turn around and cut you loose when he gets what he wants. When he decides you’re not worth the trouble.”

A tear slips down my cheek. “Gabe’s not like that. He’s sweet.”

She snorts. “Listen, I’m just trying to save you some heartache. Becauseyouare exactly like your mama, and men don’t stay with women like us.”

I blink, almost in slow motion, as her words hit me. When I was younger, I heard some of her boyfriends call herdamagedandtoxic. They wouldn’t hang around much longer after that.

And people are always saying how alike we are. I used to think it a compliment because that meant I looked like Pops, too, but maybe that’s not what they meant. Maybe I resemble her as a person.

“Amanda, that’senough,” Pops snaps, coming back into the room. He almost never gets angry, but he must have caught the tail end of our conversation.

I force myself to take a deep breath, to shove down the hurt. Pops doesn’t need the stress. “It’s fine.”

It’s not.

He ignores me. “I think it’s best you go,” he tells her. “Say your goodbyes.”

Mom rolls her eyes, throwing her arm up in exasperation. “Whatever.” She shoves my phone into my chest. “Good luck with that.”

Pops and I trail behind her as she stalks to the front door and throws it open. As she barrels onto the porch, she narrowly misses shoulder-checking Gabe, who watches her stomp down the walkway and to her beat-up car.

My cheeks flame with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.