Page 4 of Heavy
Therapy has helped, I can’t walk around with this heavy weight always bearing down on me. Even if I do blame her for where I am, and for the mess that's haunted me like an unwanted pregnancy in a Christian household.
“Sweetie, did you hear me?”
I’ve been stirring my coffee at my parents' kitchen island, trying to hold a conversation, but with so much on my mind it’s hard to concentrate. I’ll need to get back on my ADHD meds or I won’t make it through these next couple of months with this inconceivable task I’m about to embark on.
I’m grateful that Genevieve has a boyfriend who let her move in for the time being. Not me, single as a minimalist design with no furniture. I’ve been here with my mom and stepdad for three days, and now that I’m alone with her, I still can’t seem to gather the courage to ask what I’ve needed to since my house burned down.
“Yeah, you were saying that Mallorie has a property she’s trying to sell.” I tap my spoon against the edge of the black mug, setting it down on the counter before picking it up and taking a sip.
It’s cold.Of course it is. Karma is truly a bitch.
“Taylor’s property, not Mallorie. Cal, if you can’t—”
“Sorry, Mom,” I sigh and set down my cup. “I’ve got a lot on my mind and, no offense, being here isn’t helping.”
“Your father and I aren’t home that much.”
Their house is in downtown Denver, minutes from a concrete jungle. She knows what I mean. I don’t want the sounds of taxis, the homeless asking for change, or the sketchy corner store food. But while those aren’t the real reasons I want to get out of this house, they’re still part of it.
When I look up at her, she has her arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed for the office, and I know she wants to hurry along with this conversation.
I’m twenty-seven years old and I’m so sick of this bullshit. I’m not one for handouts; I’ve been making good money since I graduated college, and even more now that I’ve contracted with an expansion company that's building and modernizing vacation homes across Colorado.
I’ve always loved design—fine lines and perfection for everyone else. But for me? My room, like my life, is a constant mess, though it remains locked away, just like I am. I’ve always gone to my boyfriends' or hookups' houses, allowing my chaos to stay my own.
Colorado, in general, isn’t cheap, and unfortunately I don’t have any savings to fall back on. That’s why I’m using it as an excuse to ask my mom for a handout.
“The cabin…” I fumble around with my fingers. “Until I get the insurance money, can I stay there? Please?”
She furrows her eyebrows. “You’ll be so far outside of the city. That will be like an hour’s drive to work, sweetie.”
“I’ve talked to my boss, he said I’d just need to come in once a week but the rest of the days I can work from home.”
A sigh lazily falls from her mouth. “I’ll have to talk to your father.”
I don’t mind that she refers to him as that, but he’s my stepfather—always has been and always will be. I loved my dad, and after losing him to cancer, I had hoped it would just be my mom and I.
That said, Eamon really is amazing. He treats my mom well and helps keep her on track after I got her there. I love him, but he’ll never be my dad. He’s her husband, and while I’m happy for her, it’s a complicated happiness.
“Technically it’s yours.”
“No, it’sours,sweetheart. When you finally get married and share your space, you’ll understand.”
I groan. “Please? Why would he tell me no?”
Her eyes wander away from me. “I’ve not had a lot of time to talk with him over the past week. We’ve had such opposite schedules. I fear it’ll be the same this week as well… I can just quickly text him.”
Another strained, thunderous groan forces its way from my lips. “How about… instead…” I’m such a manipulator and I fucking love it. With my blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a body I can sway to get what I want, I know how to play the game. Sure, that doesn’t work with my family, but my tactical words definitely do. “We don’t tell him, and I’ll fix up the cabin. I’ve got some contractor friends that owe me big time. Then, in six months, we can surprise him with how much better it looks. How’s that?”
I give her the ‘Pleaseeee,Mommy!’look. Rounded eyes with pouty lips that I know pulls at her heart strings.
She rolls her lips together, the wrinkles around her mouth showing even through the heavy makeup she uses to conceal them. She’s in her late fifties, while Eamon is in his forties, which makes it hard not to tease her about being a cougar.
“Your contractor friend’s going to do the work for free?”
“Well… no…”
“I can’t have you up fronting those costs.”
