Page 91 of Lie With Me
My chin lifts defiantly even though my ribs achewith the heavy pressure of grief. “That’s because my last name isn’t Parks. It’s Renton. I changed it because there are people from my past who are trying to find me, and I don’t want to be found. Tripp knows a little about my childhood, but not everything.”
Margo blinks rapidly, taking in what I’m saying. The fact that she’s actually listening spurs me on as angry, hot tears begin to slide down my cheeks. “Think of the worst thing a child could go through, Margo. Ilivedit. I clawed my way out of the gutter I was born in, and I busted my ass to make my life better. I didn’t take advantage of Tripp. I didn’t even know who he was the night we met. My past isn’t why I’m with your son. I’m with him because I love him. It isn’t about the money. It’s about the way he looks at me and seesme. It’s the way he makes me feelsafe, not with his bank account, but with his words and his actions.”
My voice breaks as I continue. “If he wants to be with Emily, I won’t stop him. But I want you to know, right now, that I trulydolove your son. And I would never hurt him like she did. You could disown him, he could lose everything, and I would still love him. He is theonlyman I have ever cared for, and your opinion doesn’t matter to me. If you’re willing to push me aside that quickly, thenyoudon’t matter, Margo. Because I have slayed my own dragons for far longer than I should have had to, and you arenothingcompared to them. But if you push him to go back to her, if you try to keep controlling his life, justknow that you’re going to becomehisdragon. And just remember, in the fairytales, the dragons always lose.”
There’s no time for her to respond as I turn and head toward the staircase, ignoring everyone who has stopped to stare at us. I don’t care if she now has the knowledge she needs to dig into my real background. She can find out everything for all I care. It hurts that she’s icing me out so quickly instead of trying to askwhy. I thought…I really thought we’d formed a bond.
I should have known better than to get attached to any sort of mother figure.
I wasn’t made to be cared for.
I was only made to take on the worst kind of shit the world has to offer.
And this world is a fucking cruel place.
Tripp still hasn’t returned by the time I finish packing my things.
A lone tear slips down my face as I kiss a piece of stationary and leave it on his pillow. It’s become our thing. Whenever I leave his place, I kiss a piece of paper and leave it for him to find. There’s a drawer in his kitchen full of them.
I hate that this feels like it will be the last one.
There’s a part of me that wants to stay. But Margo’s onslaught of harsh words and accusationsreinforced some of the walls that Tripp has broken down. And after everything we’ve been through, after everything we’ve talked about, the fact that he still went to seek out Emily after he went off on me is bothersome.
Only, I’m not sure if it’s because I knew it would inevitably happen, or that I was stupid enough to believe he meant everything he said. Tripp is optimistic. It’s one of the things I love about him. I’ve been a pessimist all my life. It was nice to be with someone who looks at the world through rose-colored glasses. Those glasses make him blind, though.
Sorrow sweeps through me as I pull off my ring and set it on the paper. With the facade up and Emily back on the market, I’m not exactly sure where we stand anymore. The plan was to continue pushing off a wedding until we decided it was what we really wanted. Now that Tripp knows about Neil, there’s a good chance he won’t want me anymore. And that’s something I need to consider…and prepare myself for.
My phone buzzes from its place on the bed next to my thrifted Louis Vuitton Keepall Monogram bag. It’s Momma’s rehab facility, probably calling to collect the month’s payment. In all the excitement with Tripp, I forgot to send out the money order, and they are strict about paying late.
Ignoring it, I throw my phone in my purse and grab my bag, making my way down the stairs and through the main floor as quickly as possible to thecar that’s waiting to take me back to the city. The blonde behind the desk flashes me a sad smile. I know she means well, but her pity just pisses me off even more.
Ten minutes into the drive, Tripp still hasn’t bothered calling, which means he doesn’t even know I’m gone yet. The rehab facility keeps calling over and over.
Finally, after the twentieth call and second voicemail I don’t bother listening to, I answer. “What? I know the payment is late. I’ll send it tomor–”
“Miss Renton? This isn’t about payment,” a soft voice interrupts. It’s filled with a heavy southern twang, like something you’d hear in the deep South. “It’s about your mother. I’m so sorry, honey, but she had a heart attack and passed away this afternoon.”
Whatever she says next is drowned out by the sound of rushing water filling my ears. My sinuses burn, but I have no tears to cry. Adult me heaves in heavy, slow breaths, trying to process what I just heard, while the little girl stuck inside my chest begins to scream. Whether in agony for the loss of the mother who never really cared about her, or for her freedom that’s come far too late, I’m not sure.
“Miss Renton? Miss Renton, can you hear me?”
“I’m here. Sorry.” The words stick to the roof of my mouth like peanut butter. Whispered, thick and guttural.
I always wondered when this day would come—wondered if it would feel like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. It feels more like someone hasdropped an anvil on my chest, and it’s completely crushed my bones and the heart that lies trapped behind them. If an artist asked to paint what I’m feeling, the canvas would be dripping with the reds and pinks of a meaty heart shredded through with streaks of cream representing the sharp, fractured ribs that stick out of it.
“That’s alright, honey. Now, there are no papers on what to do for your mother. Did you two speak about it at all? Make a plan in case something like this happened?”
We hadn’t. But I don’t believe in sticking someone in an overly expensive box that won’t decompose any time soon, polluting the earth with more trash. “Cremation. But…” I pause.
Like a projection, I see the younger me so clearly, sitting on the cold ground in torn pajamas and that fluffy purple robe, clinging to a ratty old teddy bear like a lifeline while she nods her head. I shake mine in return, but she just keeps nodding.
One last time, my little valentine. One last time.
“Can you wait, please? I can be there by nightfall. I’d…I’d like to see her…one last time. Please.” The little girl smiles at me. It’s the saddest fucking smile I’ve ever seen.
“Of course, honey. State of Pennsylvania has a waiting period for cremation, anyway. I’ll get the necessary paperwork ready for you.”
I sniff as we hang up, looking into the rearview mirror to lock eyes with my driver. “Change of plans. Take me to the nearest airport, please.”