13. Dia

THIRTEEN

I tapethe top of the second full moving box closed before pushing it aside and grabbing an empty one. Sadly, I'm not sure I'll need any more than this. When I moved into this place, I used the furniture that was left by the previous tenant. It was nicer than what I had, so I sold my stuff and used theirs. I had intended on saving the money for myself, but as she always does, whenever I start to build a little nest egg, my mom called saying she needed help.

I carefully slid the last of my shirts into the drawer, proud that I was able to carry all of my boxes into my new apartment and unpack everything by myself. It felt good to know I did it without needing help. At least I knew nobody could throw it in my face later if I couldn't be at their beck and call.

My phone lit up on the dresser, vibrating against the hard wood as my mom's name flashed across the screen. I blew out a breath, preparing myself to answer. She always had a self-serving reason for calling me. It was never just to see how I was doing or to make sure I didn't need anything. It was the exact opposite for as long as I could remember, and I had a feeling that wasn't going to change today.

"Hi, Mom," I said in greeting, trying not to let the annoyance show in my voice. "How are you?"

"Ohhh," she said on an exhale. "Not great, baby. I need a little help."

I knew it before I had even picked up the phone, but it didn't make the fact that she only called because she needed me to bail her out of whatever trouble she managed to get herself into any less disappointing. I didn't even know what having a mom that called just to chat felt like, but I missed it anyway.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep my voice even so she didn't know how hurt I was. "Help with what?" I asked.

"I wrote a check for some groceries last week and it bounced," she began. "I guess I must've miscalculated when I balanced my checkbook. You know how bad I am at math." I knew she was lying. I was sure she wrote a check for something, but she never kept track of how much money was in the account. She didn't care. "The bank keeps calling and threatening to take legal action if I don't pay them."

"How much do you need?" I said through the lump in my throat.

"With fees, the total is four-hundred and twenty-seven dollars. If I don't have it in my account by tomorrow, they're going to call the police."

I knew she hadn't spent four-hundred dollars on groceries. And I also knew she never had that much to spend, so it wasn't just a simple mistake in her math. But I wanted to be a good daughter. I knew I wouldn't have been able to sleep that night, fearing that the police would be knocking on her door and arresting her the next morning when I could've stopped it. I had just enough in the bank to cover the check she had bounced. So, I did what I always did.

"I'll transfer it to your account tonight."

Ever since my mom left my dad a couple of years ago, she has made all of her financial problems my financial problems. That wasn't the first bad check she had written, and I doubt it was the last. Thankfully, I haven't heard from her in a while, though. I hope that means she's gotten her life together. As much damage as she's done, she didn't work alone and she's better off without him. My dad gaslit her into thinking she was the only problem when he was just as bad. But by the time she realized it, the damage was already done.

That's probably another reason I struggle to let Dalton help me. I've seen how a man can manipulate his wife into believing that the fault is all hers, ignoring that he had a large hand in their demise. That shit has obviously stuck with me, and Josh didn't ease my worries with it at all, considering he blamed the end of our relationship on me not being worthy of a future as his wife. Maybe he was right, though. It"s not like I had a good example of what a healthy marriage was as a kid.

Growing up with parents like mine was not easy. They were addicted to spending money on themselves. Not only did my mother have a shopping addiction, but my father gambled every dollar he could spare. Sometimes, even the ones he couldn't. There were times when he'd drain their joint bank account at the casino, leaving my mom to figure out how to pay the bills. She was no better with money, though. Instead of paying the rent or utilities when she did have it, she'd spend it on designer clothes and bags. I don't know who she thought she was fooling trying to look like she was wealthy, considering she drove an old, rusted out station wagon and moved from trailer park to trailer park every time we'd get evicted for not paying the rent.

When I was barely old enough to write my own name, they figured out that they could use me for extra cash. They signed me up for several credit cards, taking advances from the ATM to pay for their habits. To this day, I still have absolutely no idea how they did it, but by the time I turned eighteen, I had a mountain of debt that I was responsible for.

I gave up on my dream of being a professional dancer for good and got a job as a server at a local club to make money to pay for the bills my parents racked up in my name. Then, when I was twenty, my mom got busted writing bad checks again and ended up in jail. I had enough money to bail her out, but there was still the problem of restitution. She gave me a sob story about how nobody would hire a felon, and I decided I had to help her. I worked my ass off in order to pay that so she wouldn't go back to jail, but I'm still left with all of the credit card bills that they racked up in my name. I've been paying them slowly, but I am nowhere near finished. I know I won't have full freedom until I am.

All of this is part of the reason I agreed to keep my engagement ring and sell it instead of making Dalton return it. I don't want to be rich. I just want to be able to take my paychecks, pay my bills, and have a little something left over each week. I would love to have a savings account for emergencies and maybe be able to take a vacation every once in a while. I've always had hopes of one day owning my own dance studio where I can teach kids the fundamentals of dancing, but at this point, that's all just a pipe dream.

I drag the box over to my dresser, emptying the contents of the drawers into it. Just as I finish, my phone rings with a Facetime from Mads. I haven't talked to her, besides through text, since we arrived in Vegas, and I miss her. Plus, I've been packing all day and could really use a break. I scoot back, propping my back against my bed before hitting the button to answer the call.

"Oh my God, you really are alive!" she says in greeting. "I was starting to think you were murdered and your killer was texting me as a cover up."

I roll my eyes. "So, you've been watching reruns of Unsolved Mysteries, then? I thought we talked about this, Madison. The bed-wetting? Remember?"

She gasps. "I haven't wet my bed since Jenny Bronson's birthday party in the fifth grade."

"Well, that's a lie," Blaze says from somewhere off-camera with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turn red as she shoots him a glare. Like I don't already know what a little deviant my best friend is.

"Anyway," she says, changing the subject. "What's been going on? I feel like we haven't talked in forever."

Shitballs.

I don't want to lie to her, so I need to dance around her question. I just don't think it's smart to tell her everything that has been going on with Dalton. Mads is a romantic. She thinks that everyone has their one true love roaming around in this great big world and that fate always brings them together. I remember how she had her whole wedding planned out on a poster board in her room before she was even old enough to ride a bike. And now, she's living her love story with Blaze.

But that's not for me. There is no soulmate out there waiting to find me. And I'm not saying I won't have a happy life. Because I truly believe that once I pay off my parents' debts and can start living the life I've been working for, I'll be completely fulfilled. But it won't be with my one true love. I'll be doing it all on my own. And that's okay.

"Not much," I answer. "I'm just in my room, organizing clothes." Not a complete lie. Technically I am organizing clothes…before putting them into a box.

"What?" she says, perplexed. "Why?"

"Just wanted to make sure everything still fits."

Just then, a loud noise from outside startles me, making my phone slip from my hand. I grab it off the floor, not thinking as I stand and sit on the bed.

Mads squints as she takes in what she's seeing. "Are those moving boxes behind you?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck.

I look behind me, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I'm just packing some stuff up," I say. I absolutely refuse to outright lie to her. I'm terrible at it. She'll see right through me.

"Packing for what?" she asks. "Are you moving?"

Did I already say fuck?

"Yeah," I say with a defeated sigh. "I'm moving."

And because she just can't let anything go, she hammers the final nail in my coffin. "Where to?"

Well, there it is. I'm busted. I have no choice but to tell her.

"Actually," I say, "I'm moving to Boston." Her expression is stoic for several seconds, so I try again. "Surprise?" It's a question because she's honestly freaking me the fuck out with her non-verbal response and frozen face.

Another moment goes by before she covers her mouth and tears fill her eyes. "Please don't mess with me, Dia. Are you serious?" she whispers.

I nod my head. "Yep. I want to be with you. There's nothing here for me anymore," I tell her.

"Oh my God!" she cries. "Blaze, Dia's moving here!"

"About time!" he says, face filling the screen next to Mads. "When are you coming?"

Cue the nervous laughter.

"Ummm, tomorrow?"

They both stare at me like my hair is on fire for a bit until Mads finally decides it's time for the ‘rapid fire question' portion of our evening. "What? Why? How? Where are you going to live? What about the club? How are you getting here?"

Blaze rubs her shoulders soothingly as he laughs. "Relax, Baby Doll."

They're so fucking cute. It makes me want to squeal, kick my feet, and puke all at once. I envy the way they're able to love and support one another so freely. They make it look so easy.

I try to remember everything she asked as I figure out how I'll continue skirting around the fact that I'm fucking married to Blaze's best friend and technically, living with him. "I just decided I want to be in Boston where you are. I hate being so far apart. I'm not working at the club anymore and I have enough in my bank account to make the move. Everything is packed, I've rented a small truck, and I'm leaving in the morning."

Please don't ask where I'm living again.

"Okay, but where are you going to live?" she asks. Shit. "I know you didn't just decide to move and find a place in the last week."

"I—" I begin.

"She'll obviously stay with us," Blaze states. I freeze, unable to say anything, because I can't tell them where I was actually going. But I don't want to lie and say I'm staying at a hotel or got an apartment because that's not the case. I was honestly just hoping Mads would be so excited that she'd skim by that detail until I could figure out a plan. But now Blaze is opening his home to me…a pattern he seems to have fallen into…and I'm afraid I won't be able to say no.

"Yes!" Mads shouts. "It's perfect! You can stay here until you find a job and a new place. It'll be just like it used to be! Gossiping during movies, makeovers, junk food…" Tears fill her eyes, spilling over as she smiles. "I'm so happy."

I can't break her heart. Leaving her parents and me behind to move to Boston was so hard on her. In fact, she considered backing out at the last minute, but I promised her we would make it work. Then, she met Blaze and he kept her occupied for a while, but the longer we were apart, the more she voiced her sadness at not being able to see me as often as we used to. And maybe it'll be good to put some space between Dalton and me so I can get a handle on the things I'm feeling. Technically, his address is on my driver's license, so as far as the state is concerned, I'm living with him. I'll just be having sleepovers with my best friend each night. That's all.

"Yeah," I say, nodding my head. "Okay."