“More like a year.” I pause and then add, “At best.” I scan the dash to locate her name badge.
Greta mumbles an acknowledgment of my declaration.
I continue, making my own taxicab confession. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was going to go to college back home. But my dad got this amazing job opportunity. He’s a journalist. A damn good one. And his company offered to send him to Africa for two years to live with locals and do this crazy in-depth report. He wasn't going to accept it—that’s how he is. Self-sacrificing to a fault. But I couldn't let him pass on an experience like that because of me. Not when he's given up so much already." I take a breath and watch the cars whipping past us.
“Do I want to ask about your mother?” Greta glances at me, giving off the vibe that she’s aware of that topic's rocky terrain.
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s why I’mhere. She’s been absent my entire life; by her own choice. But when my dad told her about the situation, she volunteered to cover my living expenses, and her job has some deal with the local university for tuition reimbursement. I won’t have many out-of-pocket expenses, and considering I never wanted college to be this thing that sent me into huge debt right out the gate, it would have been foolish to turn it down. I verified all my credits will transfer completely, so it’s not a terrible compromise. But I’m not thrilled to spend a year pretending things are peachy.”
“Nobody said you had to.” Greta shrugs. “You don’t owe anyone anything they don’t deserve. I’m not telling you to be mean to this woman, but letting her off easily, given what you’ve just shared, doesn’t seem appropriate either.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s weird, ya know? I’ve only seen this woman in photos. I mean, she’s my mother, for Christ’s sake. And here I am, at the age of eighteen, going to live in her house for the first time.”
My cell buzzes, and I ignore it.
“Maybe treat her like a roommate. Considering that’s kind of what she is. Be courteous and all that, but also have your boundaries.” Greta looks back at me briefly. “That’s my advice. You can take it or leave it. I’m just a random old lady. I only wish that someone would have told me at an earlier age that it’s okay to not always let people get what they want. It would have saved me a lot of heartbreak. You matter, too. Don’t forget that.”
I let her words sink in. It’s not that I didn’t already know these things, but I’ve never actually had someone confront me this way. I’m usually the people-pleaser who compartmentalizes my own feelings to serve others. Things are easier that way, at least for everyone else.
“You can get that if you want.” Greta holds her thumb and pinky fingers up to the side of her head to signal a phone.
My gaze falls onto the glowing screen. Two texts from Rosie and seven missed calls from Griffin.
Shit.
I steady myself and click on the photo of Griff. It barely gets through one ring when he answers.
“Claire, what the fuck? Why haven’t you been answering me? You’ve had me worried. Your location shows you almost to your mom’s house.” His tone is harsh and callous.
One of the requirements to being with Griffin is him knowing my every move. At first, he played it off like he was simply worried about me and wanted to make sure I was okay, but over time, I realized it was one of the ways to keep me under his thumb.
“Sorry, Griff. My phone died. I had to charge it in the Uber. It just came back on.” I lie my ass off and hope he believes it.
Greta doesn’t bother correcting me, nor does she bat an eye at my false story.
“Right. And you expect me to buy that? The messages show delivered. The calls were ringing through. If it was dead, it would have gone straight to voicemail.” Griffin exhales dramatically. “This is already going south, and you’ve been there a whopping five minutes. You’re going to have to try harder, Claire.”
I swallow and grit my teeth, unable to form a proper response.
Griffin doesn’t bother to wait. “I have to go. The guys are here.”
“Where are you going?” Not that I entirely care, but shifting the focus away from me and my many failures is a bonus I’ll gladly take.
“Out,” is all he says.
“Oh.” The word barely leaves my mouth, and the line disconnects.
Cool, he hung up on me.
Greta breaks through the awkward silence. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” I shove my phone into the side of my backpack and focus on the landscape around us.
We’re in a city now and driving much slower than we were. We pass buildings of various sizes and shapes. Trees are randomly placed along the sidewalks to bring some natural color to this land of concrete.
Greta puts on her turn signal and brings the car to a slow crawl, parking in front of a gated structure.
I recall the passcode that was given to me to get into the complex.Six–two–one–three. I had to repeat it in my head for days on end to get it to stick. It’s not that I have a terrible memory, but there was no easy way to get that sequence to remain unless I said it over and over and over again.