My whole body sighed. It went from my toes to the top of my head. I even felt myself sinking lower into the mattress, getting more comfortable than I already had been. I was feeling it at a soul sorta level.
Me: Thank you for letting me know.
Skylar: No problem. Taz texted to tell me she’s getting a ride back with someone else. Her and Race. She said to let you know. You’re going back with Cruz?
Me: I think so. That’s the plan.
Skylar: We’ll see you back at the house! Safe travels.
I went through my texts after, seeing a couple from everyone. Most were sharing their support. There was one from Miles, saying the same that Skylar just shared. Then at the bottom, I clicked on it.
Gavin: Can we talk sometime? I’ve been an ass.
Me: Yeah. Let’s do a library study sesh. You can buy me coffee before.
He didn’t reply, but another just popped in before I was going to put the phone away.
Blaise: Hey—happy for you and Styles. I never knew about your mom, but it makes sense. You don’t need to text back. I just wanted to send a small note to you. Anytime you need something, know that Zeke and I will always back you up. Just saying. Have a good one, Mara.
I frowned, then got a little emotional, but I replied back.
Thank you. You too, Blaise.
Blaise: thumbs-up emoji
Cruz’s arm tightened, and he turned, rolling to his back. He brought me with him, and I squawked right as my phone fell onto his chest.
He grinned, his eyes soft from sleep and there were sleep lines still around his mouth. Picking up my phone, he murmured, “Who’s texting my woman?”
I rested my head on his chest, loving how his arm swept to brush my hair back and smooth down my back. That hand went under my panties and rested over my ass, cupping one cheek.
“Read the last text.”
He did, his thumb moving over my screen. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
I moved my head so I could see him better. “The one from Blaise?”
He shook his head, the slightest motion from right to left. “No, the one from Miller. If he’s buying you coffee, I want to go too. He can buy me coffee as well.”
I grinned.
My phone buzzed again, and Cruz’s eyes found mine. I gave him a faint nod.
He clicked on the latest text, then chuckled. “Zeke says he wants to grab lunch before we take off.”
I stretched over him, sliding one of my legs between his.
He lifted his head, his mouth finding mine, and the swirl of lust started.
I loved it. Every time. Like a warm blanket spreading through me, lined with pleasure. That was just the start-up.
A groan came from the bed next to us. “Oh, Good God! Do not start having sex. We’re in here too.”
Another thump and curse came from the floor, at the end of the bed where Barclay was on the floor. “Uh. I’ve got a situation here. Cruz, no disrespect. Mara, you might not want to look while I go to the bathroom.”
Cruz’s arm tightened around me, but his chest was shaking from laughter.
I frowned, burrowing even closer to Cruz if that was a possibility.
A second later Atwater’s laughter ripped through the room. “Morning wood!”
53
MARA
It was a little over a week later, and I was nervous.
My stomach was churning, but I had to do this. We’d had our field trip over the weekend, and today was when we were presenting on what we learned. Wade just finished, so it was my turn.
She looked up. “Mara?”
I stood, smoothing a hand down my shirt as I walked to the front of the class.
I hated speeches. I hated how forced things came across. The use of visual aids. I just hated all of it, maybe because I tuned out unless someone was speaking about something they knew, not just what they learned to get the grade or what they put together based on what they thought the professor wanted to hear.
Maybe that was in the back of my mind because I hadn’t prepared for this presentation at all. The professor took a seat in one of the student desks, and I felt the attention from her TA.
I got to the front of the class and brought up a picture of my mom.
A small murmur went through the room. A few people were pulling up their phones, no doubt looking for the article about my mother that we got pulled within a day of it going up.
I gestured to the picture. “This is my mom.” I glanced in the TA’s direction before addressing the rest of the class. “I was asked earlier this semester if I was mature enough for this class. It’s for upperclassmen, and me being a freshman, the TA didn’t think I was ready.”
I ignored how her eyes narrowed or how the professor’s head snapped in her direction. I just told my story. “The truth is that I’ve been preparing for this class all my life. My mom was diagnosed with histrionic personality disorder, and recently they’ve attached a couple other diagnoses with it. I can’t tell you when I knew, but I’ve known all my life that my mother was different. We’ve studied the disorder in here. You guys know the DSM requirements, but the point of this presentation isn’t about my mom or how I grew up, it’s about what we learned from our field trip. And what I learned from that trip is that I could’ve done this presentation before the trip. I didn’t need to go to a facility because I’ve been going to those facilities on and off, half my life. I’m tired of it. I’ve visited my mom there. Sometimes with my dad. Sometimes with a social worker. Sometimes with a child protective service staff member. You name it, we’ve run the gamut.
“And I can tell you the symptomology of chronic depression, anxiety, borderline, schizophrenia, and Jesus, so many. I know the symptoms. I’ve seen the symptoms. That’s not the point of these presentations. I’m supposed to stand here and tell you how people who have struggles with mental illness are people, and that’s true. They are. I’m sure I could go in and get a diagnosis myself. For sure anxiety. With my mom having what she has, I’ve got severe trust issues. I’m always waiting for the ‘shoe to drop.’ When my dad calls, I prepare myself every time for the newest crisis because with my mom, the world is ending every day. I’ve had to teach myself that it’s not true. That the world is not after her. The neighbor who looked at her isn’t plotting to get her money or her husband or her daughter. That she doesn’t have cancer even though she constantly says she does.
“When I came to college, I wanted a break. And I got it. I did, but I’ve learned other things, like how I can have friends, how they can know about my mom, and they aren’t going to judge me. Or look down on me because of her or look down on her because at the end of the day, she’s my mom.” My voice broke, just one break. “This disease or disorder took her from me. It took her daughter from her. I might not be able to have a relationship with my mom, at least not right now, but I love her. And maybe that’s what I need to present about. That no matter the diagnosis or the symptoms or how exhausting and hard life can be, that person is a person.
“They’re someone’s mother, sister, daughter, loved one, father, brother, son, uncle, aunt, grandmother, grandfather. There’s ups and downs, or dips and valleys, and sometimes they’ll get help and sometimes they won’t, and sometimes they’ll get on a new medication and it’ll work, and sometimes it’ll stop working so there’ll be a new medication, and to each their own.