Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(37)
Eva narrowed her eyes at Audre. “You better keep your wings closed.”
“Oh God,” she groaned.
“Please,” begged Eva. “Please, just be normal. Stop saying and doing weird things. I can’t take it.”
“You’re being weird. I’m the normal one.”
“Then why are you wearing orange panties with a white dress?”
“I’m throwing myself out the window, I swear to God.”
“Listen, I get that I’m putting pressure on you to step up, but, well, you have no choice. I need you right now. I show up for you, you show up for me. That’s who we are.”
Audre nodded sadly. That was who they were.
“When you were growing up, I think I treated you more like a best friend than a daughter. I depended on you more than I should’ve. I regret this every day.” She paused. “I’ve made mistakes. But I’ve always trusted you to make good decisions and be safe. In a year, you’ll be off to college and you can do whatever you want, within reason. But right now? Under my roof? I need to know where you are. That’s all I ask.”
But that’s not all Eva asked. It never was. It was bizarre—she was both the most easygoing and the most overprotective mom of anyone she knew. How could those two things coexist in the same person? Why was she so weird about boys, and being unchaperoned in people’s houses? It was so unfair. And unnecessary. Audre worked her ass off to be a model student, person, all of it. How could she prove herself more?
Maybe she would never be good enough.
“I’m sorry I messed up today. It won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” she said, and motioned for Audre to come sit next to her. “You’re grounded for the weekend.”
Audre sighed. “Yeah, I figured. But can I go to the Rockaway lost and found tomorrow? Try to get my phone back?”
“Nope. You’re trapped here for the weekend, gorgeous. But you can use my phone to call lost and found, and tell them you’ll stop by in a few days.” Eva squeezed Audre’s hand and let go, picking up a horrific-looking bowl of green, leafy soup resting on the coffee table. “You hungry?”
“I’m extremely opposed to whatever that is. Not to yuck your yum.”
“Shane made me kale-turnip stew! It’s supposed to help with energy and focus. He went out and bought little food containers, and packages healthy, homemade meals for me every day of the week. I don’t have to worry about what to eat anymore. Remember how we used to have tater tots and chicken nuggets every night?”
Audre never minded that her mom was too sick to cook real meals. In fact, Eva would tell her stories about how she and Grandma Lizette would eat Baby Ruths with a side of rice for dinner sometimes when Lizette was too single-mom tired. But Shane took care of the meals now. He’d taught himself to cook for his new family, which was thoughtful. But… were things so bad before? Audre would rather order pizza than eat kale-turnip anything.
It was so weird to think that they dated as teenagers, lost touch, and then found each other again as grown-ups. How could her mother be so protective of her when Grandma Lizette had obviously given Eva the space to have a life in high school? To have a serious boyfriend? It was unfair—no, it was hypocritical.
And grounded or not, Audre decided that the Experience Challenge was not over.
Three hours later, everyone was asleep but Audre. How could she sleep while Shane’s, Eva’s, and Baby Alice’s snores blared from the primary bedroom? Also, being phone-less felt bizarre and uncomfortable. She usually scrolled before sleeping, but tonight she was curled up on the couch, rereading one of her comfort books: Soothe Your Nerves: The Black Woman’s Guide to Understanding and Overcoming Anxiety, Panic, and Fear.
It was an epic read. But she couldn’t concentrate. She had an itchy need to text Bash. Something. Anything. Just a sign of life. She wondered if he’d texted her already. Did he think she was rude for not answering? Maybe he wasn’t thinking of her at all.
It’s just that they’d experienced something emotional together. When Audre had the panic attack, an invisible barrier had been broken. It felt like they were being real friends now. Bash had hidden depths. And she was still reeling from the careful, considerate, sweet way he took care of her after her episode. She wasn’t expecting to relate to him on any level, but so much of their lives were surprisingly similar.
I wish I could text him, thought Audre, laying the book face down on her chest. She wished she could send up a smoke signal to let him know that she hadn’t disappeared, she’d simply gotten grounded and the Experience Challenge would be postponed for a few days. And she wanted to make sure, just one more time, that what happened earlier would stay between the two of them.
Restless, she hopped off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. Maybe eating would soothe her nerves. Some crackers? Ritz and Nutella? (It was her comfort snack.) With a yawn, she opened the snack drawer. Her eyes were immediately drawn to her mom’s box of Reese’s Pieces (Eva’s comfort snack) in the back of the drawer. An oversized fuchsia Post-it was stuck to the back, her mom’s recognizable cursive scrawled across the paper.
Her whole life, Audre had seen her mom jot down notes on neon Post-its while she was writing. But Eva never let her read them. And she always tucked them away somewhere private. Eva did not play about keeping her creative process secret and sacred. But these days, her mom was overtired, overstretched, and overburdened. Hence leaving this note… in the snack drawer, of all places.