Miller flicked his hand in an uncomfortable wave and gave me a pitying look. “I’m just going to—” He pointed up at the apartment over the garage, and I lifted my chin, silently praying he’d insist that he needed to stay with me instead.
“I’ll call you if I need you,” I said.
As soon as Mom and I stepped inside of my rental house, she decided to insult him. “Well, he did a great job escorting us in to make sure there wasn’t someone who’d broken in to—”
“Don’t start,” I snapped. I counted to twenty and then motioned to the couch. She wobbled over to it, smoothing her knee-length skirt as she sat. “Do you want anything?”
Like to tell me why the hell you’re here.
But in my heart I already knew, so when she shook her head, I slid down numbly on the edge of the recliner and faced her with my palms rested on my knees.
She started talking, reciting the same spiel addicts’ families used on that intervention TV show. “Your dad and I are worried about you, Willow,” she said.
This wasn’t the first time she’d said as much to me, but dammit, this time I hadn’t done anything to deserve to hear it.
“You shouldn’t be,” I said calmly.
Mom’s back stiffened and she released a heavy sigh. “Every time we open an entertainment article online your face is there with that actress’s son.”
I sucked in a hiss through my teeth. Had she really just said that? Curling my lips into a sneer, I said, “In case you haven’t noticed it, I’m an actress too. And if it bothers you so much, don’t read trashy ass gossip magazines.”
“Don’t you think you should be focusing on your career instead of relationships right now? Do you want what happened the last time to happen all over again?”
I dragged my hand down my face, frustrated. “You are unbelievable. I am working and focusing on my career but that’s not the only thing in my life. You can’t expect me not to date or have”—I cringed before I said the next word—“sex or fall in love and—”
Mom’s green eyes widened. “You don’t love him, Willow.” She shook her head slowly to each side, as if doing so would convince me that she was right.
“How can you tell me what I care about and love? You and dad have avoided me like the plague since I f**ked up.”
Mom winced but effortlessly slid on her poker face again. “We offered to fly out here for the fourth of July,” she reminded me.
“And I didn’t want you to because I was fine and happy. I’m still happy. Why would I want you here just so you can tell me what I’m doing wrong every five minutes?”
She threw her hands up in the air and released a sound of frustration from the back of her throat. “You would turn this around on me and your dad, wouldn’t you? You’re the one who’s unbelievable.”
I stood up, pacing the length of the small living room frantically as I spoke. “If you want to play the blame game, here we go: Mom, what you did to me when I needed you, sending me away so that nobody had to find out about my little problem, that was f**ked up.” Mom began to say something but then pressed her lips together into a thin, colorless line.
I wished I had the energy to scream at her, to cry.
The corners of Mom’s mouth tightened. “You left out that you waited several months to tell me and your dad.”
I dragged my hands through my hair. “God, Mom. Seriously?”
She took a deep breath and then another. “Willow, I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for what happened, but please don’t ruin yourself again over a boy you barely know.”
I sat back down on the recliner, this time relaxing all the way back. “I’m not ruining myself,” I said, emphasizing each word in a dangerous tone.
“I’m planning on staying at the Four Seasons so I can—”
I knew exactly where this was going, and I also realized that I needed to end it right now.
“Mom, I don’t want you here. You want me to work? You want me to be normal? Then let me do what normal adults do; they don’t have their parents overseeing every aspect of their life. I’m not above asking Miller to remove you or having you banned from coming anywhere near the set.”
She gasped and her entire body trembled. “You don’t mean that.”
I gave her a pointed look. “A long time ago you told me I needed to learn to make adult decisions,” I said. I remembered the day well because it was a phone conversation we’d had a few days after I’d been released from the hospital when I could barely move. “Let me do that. And if you love me, if you really want me to be happy, don’t try to get custody of me. Because I know that’s what you want to do next,” I said.
There were giant tears gliding down Mom’s high cheeks, and when she swiped them away she took a handful of makeup along with it. “What happens when you get hurt again?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Do you go back to the drugs and the partying?”
“I—” When I paused, my words catching in the back of my throat, she gave me a sad smile.
“That’s what I thought.” She stood and hobbled to the front door, never looking behind her when she said, “If you want to grab lunch before I leave to go back to Los Angeles tomorrow, call me.”
Then she left, and I curled up into the corner of the couch, hugging myself close.
Wanting nothing more than to forget this moment had ever happened.
Wanting to drown quickly.