Gemma
Iplace the Red Bull in the cup holder and grab the wheel with both hands. It’s taken me nearly eight hours to arrive back in the place where it all started. Auburn Falls. When I left here, I never planned to return. Not for anyone or anything, or so I thought.
When the bullying got so bad I didn’t want to go to school at all, I decided to move to Florida and live with my dad for my senior year. It was the best decision of my life. No one even knew about my stutter problem there. I grew out of it with the help of extensive therapy by the end of middle school. I thought people would stop making fun of me in high school, but they didn’t. If anything, it only got worse.
Florida was my safe haven. People were nice, and I actually had friends. If it wasn’t for my mother, I would never leave. My mom has been visiting me monthly, but I knew eventually I would have to come and see her.
Every memory of this place leaves a bitter taste in my mouth—the bullying, the hate. If I think about it long enough, I can still hear them cackling and feel the food landing against my clothes as I walked by.
It started in kindergarten when kids realized I was different. I talked differently, took longer to finish a sentence. I was outcast almost immediately and never got invited back in. I was different, standing out instead of blending in, so my peers mocked me and laughed at every mistake I made. Luckily, I’ve been able to get it under control.
Shaking away the thoughts, I almost miss the turn for the road. Jesus. I need to stay in the present and not allow myself to drift back to that dark place just because I’ve returned to this hellhole. As I drive down the long tree-lined driveway, I wonder just what kind of trouble my mother has gotten herself into. As I round the corner, a huge mansion-like house sits upon a hill off in the distance. My tongue swells in my mouth.
This cannot possibly be the house she is living in. She told me a few weeks ago that she was moving in with her boyfriend—a man she has only been dating for two months. There was never any mention of him being a millionaire.
As I pull up to the house, I pass a small fountain with an angel squirting water out of its mouth. There are three other expensive-looking vehicles parked in front of the four-car garage, as well as my mother’s.
I’m obviously at the right house, but it seems like I shouldn’t be. Putting the car in park, I ignore the small voice at the back of my mind, telling me to turn around and drive back home. How bad can it be? Dinner with my mom and her new boyfriend?
I almost laugh at the sudden anxiety I feel. I don’t know much about him. Richard is my mom’s age and apparently makes her happy. I’ve never been interested in more info, and my mom didn’t offer to tell me. Now, I suddenly wish I would have asked.
Why am I so nervous? It’s just my mother and her boyfriend. There’s nothing to be worried about. In a few weeks, I’ll be back living with my father, and all of this will be a distant memory. Flipping the mirror down from the visor, I doctor up my lip gloss and smooth down my frazzled blonde hair. This is what I get for spending all day in a car.
With my heart beating out of my chest, I open the car door and step out. The heat of the summer sticks to the back of my neck as I close the door.
I look down at my outfit. I decided to wear something modest but feminine because, as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to impress my mother’s new boyfriend. She spoke highly of him, and knowing that he made her happy was icing on the cake.
Running my hands down the front of my summer dress, I trudge toward the mammoth mahogany wood door. Exhaling all the air out of my lungs, I lift my hand, readying myself to knock when the door suddenly opens, and my heart jumps out of my chest.
“Mom!” I gasp, more out of shock than fear. “I was just getting ready to knock.” My mother’s blond hair is sleek like always, but she is wearing a good amount of makeup, and a tight red dress that shows off her figure. Yes, she is older than fifty, but she certainly doesn’t look it.
“Gemma, baby.” My mom latches onto my arm and gently pulls me inside. Voices—three, all male—carry into the entranceway.
She said it was just going to be Richard and us, unless…
“Mom, who else is here?” I growl, my own anxiousness festering. The thought of anyone from around here also being in this house makes me want to tuck tail and book it to the car. I think back on all the cars in the driveway. I had assumed they were Richard’s, but obviously, I was wrong.
“Come sit, dinner is almost ready.” She ignores my question and tugs me into the dining room, which is right around the corner. As soon as my eyes land on the three men sitting at the huge table, I almost make a run for the front door.
This feels like a trap. No, it doesn’t feel like one, it is one.
My mother leans into my side. There is a smile plastered on her face, but out of the corner of her mouth, she whispers, “Sorry.”
Somehow, I doubt that. She knew if she told me that they or anyone from here was coming that I would’ve stayed back with Dad, hiding out in my room all summer, reading romance novels, while I waited for the days to pass before I could go off to college.
Nonetheless, there were better things I could be doing than entertaining these cocky assholes.
Richard stands and introduces himself before he pulls a chair out for me. I can now see where the brothers get their good looks—silky brown hair and melted chocolate-brown eyes. Richard is merely an older version of the two of them. As much as I don’t want to, I force myself to take the seat across from the two guys who made my life hell in middle school and pretended like I didn’t exist in high school. Odis and Denver Montgomery.
“So, you remember my sons?” Richard asks, clearly unaware or uncaring of the jerks his sons were to me. “You went to school together, right?”
“Yes.” I nod, not trusting myself to say a lot without stuttering the words. I rarely stutter anymore. Only when my emotions get the better of me, and right now, I’m angry as fuck. My mother will be lucky if I come and visit her again, not after this stunt.
“I told you to warn her that we were going to be here.” Odis grins and reaches for his drink.
Is this a fucking joke to him? I wouldn’t be surprised. He never took anything seriously.
“I thought a surprise would be better,” my mom says, her voice so high-pitched it betrays her smile. “You know, Odis and Denver grew up to be some fine young men.”