Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(48)

“Was she like that when you were growing up?”

Eva met Audre’s eyes in the mirror. “Like what?”

“Hard on you.”

“Oh, I don’t remember. My growing-up years are a blur. We moved around a lot, you know.”

Eva was always so vague about her childhood with Grandma Lizette. Their single-mom-plus-daughter life mirrored Audre and Eva’s in so many ways. But where Audre and Eva were always close, Eva and Grandma Lizette weren’t.

Her mom always told her rapturous stories about Grandma Lizette’s proto-girlboss work ethic, but their actual relationship was a question mark. They barely spoke. There had to be more to the story than the time difference, or Eva being busy writing, or Lizette hating to fly. Audre would’ve killed to learn the secrets between her mom and grandmother. Because she was curious, sure. But also because somewhere in those secrets were clues about who she was, too.

“Why don’t you two talk more? Don’t you miss her?”

“Of course I miss her,” said Eva, gathering her skirt and joining Audre on the sofa. “Your grandma’s a great woman. Truly. The strongest lady I know. You’re lucky to have such a trailblazer for a grandmother.”

Audre noticed that she always referred to her as “your grandmother.” Not “my mother.”

“But,” continued Eva, clearing her throat, “my life’s busy. And so’s hers. It’s hard to find time to talk. That’s life, you know?”

“I hope that doesn’t happen to us,” said Audre. She couldn’t imagine adulthood making her drift apart from Eva. Her mom was her touchstone. When she was little, she wanted to jump into Eva’s shadow, to feel what it was like to be her. It wasn’t lost on Audre that she wanted to write a book at sixteen. Was it to beat her mom’s record of publishing her first at nineteen? Was it normal to feel a need to one-up your own mother? Any good therapist would say no.

“It won’t happen to us. We’re different.”

Eva slung her arm across Audre’s shoulders. It was a light, breezy move, but her voice sounded strained. She was hiding something. It was so obvious.

“Mom?”

“Daughter?”

“When can I read Back to Belle Fleur?”

Instantly, Eva drew back her arm. “You? Reading one of my books? Since when?”

Audre had never read a word her mom wrote. Up until Back to Belle Fleur, her mom had only written supernatural erotica. Reading actual sex scenes her mother wrote about a nineteen-year-old witch and a five-thousand-year-old vampire banging throughout fifteen books? Kill her now. Plus, Eva’s rabid fandom freaked her out. It was nauseating, experiencing middle-aged white women in witch hats make orgasmic noises about their vampire crush at book signings.

“Yeah, but this one’s a memoir about the Mercy girls,” said Audre. “It’s not just your history, it’s mine, too.”

“I promise I’ll let you read it before it publishes, this fall. First, I just need to explain… you know, figure out…”

Before her mom could finish the thought, Audre’s phone went off in her pocket. Her stomach flip-flopped a bit, hoping it was Reshma. They hadn’t spoken since she’d stormed out of the vintage shop. And Reshma owed her an apology.

It wasn’t Reshma.


Ellison: r u ever gonna answer me? just making sure u haven’t told anyone. i cld potentially get in big trouble. don’t want it to f up college admissions. i made a huge mistake & i apologized. hope ur having a great summer



Audre sucked in a gulp of air. With trembling hands, she turned her phone off and slipped it in her jeans pocket.

“What’s wrong?” asked her mom.

She was tempted to tell her. Weirdly, after the beach incident, they’d grown closer than they’d been in ages. It was as if their tension had reached its boiling point and was now cooling off. For the first time in forever, Audre’s muscles didn’t tighten into knots when Eva walked in the room. Maybe she was finally getting used to being in Brooklyn for the summer. Maybe they were finally getting over the almost-two-year relationship slump. Whatever it was? Audre would take it.

But she couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom, so radiant in her wedding gown, that her golden child could barely make a move without being seized with panic attacks. And that she was so traumatized from prom night that she hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since May. So, she pasted on a smile.

“Audre, are you okay?” repeated Eva.

“Totally.” Nonchalantly, she sipped from her champagne glass, her hand still trembling. She got up and handed it to Eva. “Is everything okay with you and Grandma Lizette?”

“Totally,” she said, sipping apple cider.

They were both lying. And it was obvious.

“Quick question,” said Audre, fiddling with her cameo ring. “If you’re wearing Jordans, can I wear my Converse?”





1, 2, 3, 4… THRIVE!

A Teen’s Rules for Flourishing on This Dying Planet


By Audre Mercy-Moore


Rule 8:

If you grow up around older family members (aunts, uncles, grandparents), ask questions about their past. When you don’t know your family history, you can feel like an escaped balloon-no anchor, just floating away to who-knows-where. Alone.