Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(26)
Eva was right. Audre nodded in full agreement. And gratefulness. In the middle of the turmoil that was her life, it felt good—safe—knowing that she could talk to her mom about sex, boys, all of it. Most moms weren’t this transparent or understanding.
Audre missed being close to her mom like this.
“You’re not behind anyone,” continued Eva. “You’re moving at your own pace. Whatever happened with Ellison, anyway?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. Not my type, at all. Whatever that is.”
Audre could never tell her mom what really happened. That night, the panic attack—it made her feel like something was wrong with her. That she was different from other girls, who could flirt and hook up and go with the flow. And underneath that fear was shame. Mercy girls were supposed to be strong. Not sobbing, shaking, scared train wrecks.
“What was it like dating Shane in high school?” Audre asked softly.
Eva gave her daughter an unreadable smile. “Tumultuous. It’s probably why we broke up so soon. We weren’t ready for each other yet. I made so many mistakes when I was your age. Believe me, it’s better to wait.”
No specifics, as per usual. Just vague statements. No real information that Audre could hang on to.
“I wonder if Grandma Lizette had high school boyfriends. Boys probably loved her.”
Did Audre see Eva flinch? Did her expression go tight all of a sudden? Odd.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, gingerly removing the veil from her head. She took her time folding it, carefully, on her lap. “I don’t know about her history with men. All I know is that when I was growing up, she focused on moving mountains for me. Men were secondary, if they were around at all.” Suddenly activated, Eva placed her hand on Audre’s shoulder. “Listen. We pull greatness out of our asses. Through all sorts of nonsense. Mom raised me despite enormous obstacles. I’ve raised you despite enormous obstacles. And you will get into Stanford, if that’s what you want. Like Public Enemy said, it took a nation of millions to hold us back.”
“Who’s Public Enemy?”
“Seriously? I’ve failed you.” Eva shook her head. “Listen, I hate you feeling insecure. I’m so proud of you! You’re the one thing in my life that I don’t have to worry about.”
Amazing, thought Audre. So glad I can make your life easier. Ever heard of golden child syndrome, Mom? How about parentified child syndrome? Well, I have both. It’s an adultlike need to always be perfect. To never be a problem. To not cause chaos. To parent your actual parents. And guess what, Mom? When kids live under that kind of pressure, they usually end up suffering a mental breakdown, an ulcer, or both. So, thanks for that.
Audre wanted to scream. She wanted her to worry about her sometimes. She wanted to ask Eva for help with her book. She wanted to tell her about how she was entrusting her summer to a stranger, hoping it would bring some light into her eyes. How she was fading and lost, and how everyone seemed to have the answers but her. How she was humiliated on prom night. Not as bad as Carrie, but still… bad. She wanted to lay in her mom’s lap and cry.
“What are you doing tomorrow? Think you’ll have time to watch Baby Alice in the evening? We should be finalizing the new nanny soon, God willing.”
Audre quickly thought about this. She was meeting Bash at noon, so she’d be home by the evening.
“Sure, I can babysit. I have plans during the day.”
“Oh? What are you doing?”
“Meeting up with this guy named Bash. He graduated from Hillcrest. We’re just hanging out at his house, or whatever.”
“Will his parents be there?”
“I’m not a child.”
“Until you leave this house, you’re a child. I don’t know this boy. So there should be a parent in the house.”
What Eva didn’t know was that “parents in the house” didn’t mean anything. When Audre went to Nola Stone’s house for her fourteenth birthday party, Nola’s parents had been just upstairs. And yet, half the guests were making out within forty-five minutes.
“I know the rules, Mom,” she said, peeling herself off the couch and heading to the bathroom. This conversation was over. “There’ll be parents in the house. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 11
I am simply a girl asking a boy for help in reaching a goal, thought Audre as she strode toward Just Because. Nerves? None to see here.
She told herself that Bash was just a guy she hired to perform a service. A means to an end. She was being proactive! Instead of sitting around, wallowing in self-pity because her life was in shambles, she was wrestling her personal drama to the ground! As she headed down the bustling sidewalk, she felt lifted by a powerful surge of confidence.
But then, flashing across her brain, was a picture of his sculpted biceps flexing as he crossed his arms. And his sparkly-eyed, megawatt smile. And she remembered that his (apparent) kindness felt weirdly at odds with his reputation. Hello, nerves.
Something about him made her feel things—which was embarrassingly cliché. It’s like he was AI designed to be crushworthy. When Sparrow said he looked at her and she felt a cosmic spark? For once, that girl wasn’t being dramatic. Audre had felt the same thing. When his soulful gaze fell on her, she went all gooey. Clearly, he was cosmic with everyone. Maybe it was a trait he couldn’t help, like freckles or a super-long second toe. He’d probably have sexual tension with a potted plant.