Mom
I exhale my frustration, and hit talk.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, thank God you’re okay,” she says, dramatic enough for a Broadway performance.
I play dumb. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We saw you on the motorcycle. Wyatt told us about who you were with, and what happened.” She pauses, waiting for me to elaborate. Since I don’t have any desire to have this conversation, I stay quiet. “What is goin’ on with you?”
Oh, no. She is not going to make this about me.
“Did Wyatt also tell you he hurt me?” Out of patience, I yell into the phone, “Did he tell you he held my arms down and tried to force himself on me? That he bruised my face?”
“What? That doesn’t sound like Wyatt.”
The affection in which she speaks his name after what I told her slices through my heart.
“Did you even hear me? I said Wyatt hurt me.”
“It’s hard to believe Wyatt would hurt you intentionally. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”
I’ve had it. “Oh, he meant to, Mother! You and Daddy don’t know Wyatt like you think you do, and your defendin’ him is upsettin’ me.”
“I’m sorry, honey. Are you all right?”
Took her long enough.
“Yes,” I spit rudely into the phone.
After a few seconds of silence, she gets to what she actually wants to talk about.
“Daddy says that guy you left with is dangerous and that you shouldn’t be spendin’ time with him.”
“And how exactly did Daddy come to that conclusion, Mother?”
“He knows everything, dear. You know that.”
“In other words, he heard Battle was a bad guy, but he doesn’t know him personally.”
“No, but … He says the McCoys have a lot of family problems, and that Mr. McCoy is a … Well, I won’t repeat what Daddy said, because it isn’t lady like.”
“Battle isn’t his father. We’re datin’ now. Nothin’ Daddy or Wyatt or anyone else says will change that. I like him.” I drop the bombshell and want to pat myself on the back, but her long drawn out sigh steals my joy, replacing it with an inherent sense of obligation. “You need to talk to your father. He’s worried about you.”
“I will, but I’m tired. Tell him I’m fine and I love him.”
We go back and forth a few more times as she continues pressuring me to talk with my father before she finally hangs up. I don’t want to discuss my feelings for Battle with my father. I know exactly what he’ll say. I’m not interested in hearing how Battle doesn’t have all the qualities outlined on his future husband checklist. He’ll also want to hear my plan now that Wyatt and I have broken up.
But I don’t have a plan. For once in my life, I’m flying by the seat of my pants and enjoying every beautiful minute of the bumpy ride.
After thinking about Battle’s offer, I decide staying in the motorhome with the guys might be fun. It should be, at the very least, entertaining. I text him to let him know.
He replies instantly.
B: You sure about that? I can get us a hotel room.
F: I’m sure. It will be fun.