I suddenly realize that depending on how the Ethics exam goes, I might not even be playing next weekend. The old man definitely won’t be happy about that.
Good thing I don’t give a shit what he thinks.
10
Hannah
My mom calls on Sunday morning for our weekly phone chat, which I’ve been looking forward to for days. We rarely have time to talk during the week because I’m in class all day, rehearsing in the evenings, and fast asleep by the time Mom finishes her night shift at the grocery store.
The worst thing about living in Massachusetts is not being able to see my parents. I miss them so frickin’ much, but at the same time, I needed to get far, far away from Ransom, Indiana. I’ve only been back once since my high school graduation, and after that visit, we all agreed it would be better if I didn’t come home anymore. My aunt and uncle live in Philadelphia, so my parents and I fly there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The rest of the time, I speak to them on the phone, or if I’m lucky, they’re able to scrape together enough money to come see me.
It’s not the most ideal arrangement, but they understand why I can’t come home, and I not only understand why they can’t leave, I know I’m to blame for it. I also know I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to them.
“Hey, sweetie.” My mother’s voice slides into my ear like a warm embrace.
“Hey, Mom.” I’m still in bed, snuggled up in a blanket cocoon and staring up at the ceiling.
“How did you do on the Ethics midterm?”
“I got an A.”
“That’s wonderful! See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
“Trust me, there was. Half the class failed.” I roll onto my side and rest the phone on my shoulder. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s good.” She pauses. “He picked up extra shifts at the mill, but…”
My body tenses. “But what?”
“But it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get to Aunt Nicole’s for Thanksgiving, sweetie.”
The pain and regret in her voice cuts me like a knife. Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away.
“You know we just had to fix the leak in the roof, and our savings took a hit from that,” Mom says. “We don’t have money for airfare.”
“Why don’t you drive?” I ask weakly. “It’s not that long…” Uh-huh, just a fifteen-hour drive. Not long at all.
“If we do that, your father will need to book more time off, and he can’t afford to give up the hours.”
I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. “Maybe I can…” I quickly calculate how much savings I’ve got. Definitely not enough for three plane tickets to Philly.
But it is enough for one ticket to Ransom.
“I can fly home,” I whisper.
“No.” Her response is swift and unequivocal. “You don’t have to do that, Hannah.”
“It’s just for one weekend.” I’m trying to convince myself, not her. Trying to ignore the panic that claws its way up my throat at the thought of going back there. “We don’t have to drive into town or see anyone. I can just hang out at the house with you and Dad.”
There’s another long pause. “Is that what you really want? Because if it is, then we’ll welcome you home with open arms, you know that, sweetie. But if you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with it, then I want you to stay at Briar.”
Comfortable? I’m not sure it’s possible for me to ever feel comfortable in Ransom again. I was a pariah before I left, and the one time I came back to visit, my father landed in jail for assault. So no, going back is about as appealing as cutting off my arm and feeding it to wolves.