Chapter 14: Lauren

Chapter Fourteen

LAUREN

I close the door behind Griff and check the clock on the microwave. Mick will probably be home soon. He was probably listening for the door. I wanted Griff to stay longer, and I know he wanted to stay too, but the more time I spend around him, the urge to hang on to him grows, and that's dangerous.

"Punching above your weight class, aren't you?" a voice says from the nearby kitchen table.

"Mom!" I shriek in surprise.

"Where's Mick?" Her voice is gravely, as if she's just woken up and these are the first words out of her mouth after a long rest. "I mean, I'm glad he's not here with all the racket you were making, but I want to see my baby boy."

My cheeks heat slightly at Mom's not-so-subtle dig at my bedroom shenanigans with Griff. I shuffle over to the kitchen and cover my embarrassment under the guise of making some hot chocolate.

"Sorry. I didn't realize we were being loud." I grab a filter out of the cupboard. I wonder how I'm going to be with Griff in the future. I can't keep kicking Mick out. Plus, there's my mom who thinks she can come in whenever she feels like.

"I hope you're protecting yourself," Mom says, rising to join me at the counter. She fills the glass pot with water and hands it to me.

I dump the water into the coffee maker and hit brew for the hot water. I say, "I know what I'm doing," but we didn't use a condom or any other kind of protection.

"He's not going to marry you, Lauren baby. I saw his ride. That's a fifty thousand dollar bike. A man like him isn't going to settle down with a girl like you. You have to stay in your own lane. I'm not saying that because you aren't beautiful and you don't deserve more. It's just the truth. Like marries like. You only have to look at your mom to know what kind of hurt you're in for if you get your hopes up too high."

I don't need to examine my mother's face to know what expression she's wearing. It's the one that's etched into the lines in her forehead and the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. It's the one that says men are terrible and the cause of all of life's unhappiness. Men leave. That's the mantra she's always taught me.

And to be fair, it's the life experience she's always had. She's never been able to find a man to take on her two rowdy kids. She wasn't always turning tricks. When she was younger, she had actual boyfriends. I guess that was still transactional. She got gifts instead of cash. Her advice comes from a well of bad experiences.

"Don't worry. It's not serious."

"You've never let a man in your bed. It might not be serious for him but it is for you."

I keep my eyes on the water dripping into the glass pot because after all this time, Mom can read even the slightest twitches of my lips. "We're just enjoying each other's company."

She harrumphs and stomps over to the table. "I know you, baby girl. You are hungry for a man to love you up, but he'll be the death of you. Take him for his money and then cut line on this one before he drags you under."

"I'm not going under," I tell her. The water's done. I mix a mug for her and one for me. She dumps some vodka into her drink.

Mick comes in noisily and immediately turns around when he spots Mom.

"Don't go, Mickey darling. I haven't see my baby boy in an age. Come and give your mama a kiss. What have you been up to?"

His head jerks up, and his eyes fly to mine. He does not want Mom to know that he was just in jail for stealing.

"Playing League with the neighbor," I chirp. "Your drink's getting cold."

"You can just stick it in the microwave. What's this league thing? Baseball? Isn't it too late for that?" She looks around as if trying to spot his equipment.

"It's a computer game, Ma." Mick reluctantly drags himself to the table. He sniffs my mug before grimacing. "No juice?"

"You're nineteen," I remind him.

"Ma?"

"It's cold," she warns as she pushes her vodka-laced chocolate toward him. I intercept the mug and go pour it down the sink.

"I'm nineteen," he protests.

"You're so not fun," laments my mom.

I grit my teeth. I should be in the bedroom, wrapped up in the sheets that smell like Griff and not out here suffering my mom's barbs. The afterglow is not glowing. I should've left with Griff or made him stay. No, not the latter. Then he'd be listening to all the ways Mom can tear me down. No amount of sex would make me feel good about that.

"Where's Griff?" Mick asks.

I let my chin drop to my chest. I shouldn't have kicked him out. He would've stayed, but then I'd have to suffer a different, more humiliating way.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Mom?"

"This month's been—" I know what's coming before she even finishes her sentence—"tight. I need a little help with rent."

Mick's mouth grows tight. He pushes away from the table and goes to stare out the window at the brick wall of the tenement behind us.

I gather up the mugs and make my way to the sink. "I gave you money two weeks ago for rent."

"Honey, that's how rent works. Every month you have to pay."

"But not every two weeks."

"They like me to pay in advance."

"And two weeks ago?"

"I was behind and catching up."

These are all lies. I know it. "I don't have it."

"I would never ask you unless I really needed it, but I guess I could let that place go and move in here. You've only got one bed in your room, but we could probably fit two twins in there."

The threat of her moving in with Mick and me works. I grab my purse and thrust all my cash at her. "This is my tip money for the week."

She rifles through the bills. "Only six hundred? My rent is $1800."

I grit my teeth. "I'm not hiding anything. It's all I have."

Tears well in her eyes. "You don't understand the things I'm going through, and you're just trying to hurt me because I couldn't give you the life I wanted you to have. It's terrible that you are lashing out at me like this."

"She doesn't have it," Mick barks.

Mom and I both jump. Mick hardly ever says a word when Mom's around. He's careful of her feelings, to a fault sometimes.

"Why are you using that tone of voice with me, Michael Roger Murphy?" Mom says with a quavering voice. Nothing gets at Mick more than his mom crying, but to my surprise, his stern expression doesn't soften.

"She doesn't have it. Lolo works two jobs to keep us housed and fed. I don't do jack shit because I've got theft priors and can't get hired even at a fucking corner grocery store running deliveries, so I got to rely on her like a deadbeat, but I'm getting my act together and you need to also. We can't be dragging Lolo into the gutter with us."

"You're not a drag, Mick," I snap. "You're barely nineteen, and your job was graduating high school which, congrats, you did. And you're going to get a job, so I'm not worried about it." I turn to Mom. "I'm giving you my last dollar. That's it. I can't give you any more for whatever it is that you need it and don't tell me rent because I don't believe that stuff anymore."

"Mom, we love you, but we're barely getting by. When I get a job, I promise I'll take care of you." Mick peels himself away from the wall and comes over to draw Mom in for a hug. I notice that he looks taller, older as his larger frame engulfs Mom's much smaller one. "I'll call you a car."

There's a finality in his voice that shocks Mom. She numbly nods as he opens the app on his phone. When the car arrives, he walks her down to the curb. When he returns to the apartment, he tells me good night. I finish tidying up the kitchen. Mick's grown up, and I didn't even see it.