Page 28 of Love Marks
I trudge past them towards my room, pulling my hair into a bun and suppressing a sigh.
“I can do yours next?” My mom calls after me.
“Okay,” I call back and change out of my jeans into sweats. I put on a tank top and wipe the smudged makeup under my eyes. I go back into the living room and curl up on the floor across from Sheila.
“What’s wrong?” Sheila asks. “You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“I think the kids are calling it the ‘I’m-gonna-cut-a-bitch’ look,” Sheila says.
“Yeah. The stank eye,” my mom chimes in.
I never should have set my mom up with a Twitter account. She’s now in the habit of constantly sending me nonsensical memes and using internet slang to describe every situation.
“It’s whatever. My boss is a dick.”
“Every day you come in here complaining about this man, sweetheart,” my mom says. “Why don’t you just quit?”
“Not an option,” I say flatly.
“We can figure something out. You shouldn’t be unhappy.”
“You always were too selfless for your own good, girl,” Sheila chimes in.
I’m not going to quit. Not only was it nearly impossible to find this job, but I won’t give Wesley the satisfaction of scaring me away. If he wants me gone, he’ll have to fire me himself.
“I’m fine. It’s one bad day. I’ll get over it.”
My mom raises her eyebrows at me, clearly not believing me.
“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Now do my toes.” I wiggle my feet in her face, and she smacks them away.
For the rest of the evening, I manage to put my burning hatred for Wesley aside and enjoy my time with mom and Sheila. We decide to throw a going away party for her next week and I set off immediately with planning and spreadsheets. I can’t help it. I’m a Virgo.
Sheila eventually heads across the hall, much to my disappointment. Luckily, tomorrow is one of my days off. Unluckily, that means that my mom has chemo, so she tucks into bed early, leaving me cleaning up the apartment with nothing to distract from my fight with the devil himself.
The image of his broad chest heaving up and down is burned into my brain. His tight jaw and tussled hair. Hard as I try, I can’t get the asshole out of my head. That night, as my head falls against my pillow, I’m still thinking about his dark eyes burning into mine.
* * *
I hate hospitals. The first time I was here was a night I’ve tried over and over to forget. A night that nearly took everything from me. Each time I come here with mom for her treatments, it’s a brutal reminder of a period of my life I swear never to return to. It’s a place of nightmares. Every time I walk through these sliding glass doors, I’m facing my mother’s mortality. I’m facing my own inadequacies.
Ellen, the oncology nurse, comes in and gets my mother set up. I feel so useless during these visits. My mom says it helps just to have me sitting beside her, but I wish there was something I could do.
“Hello, Taylors! How are we this week?” Ellen greets us cheerfully.
“The family of rats that lives on our corner has grown. Saw a new baby this morning,” my mom chimes like it’s the best news all week.
While Ellen chats with my mother, I go down to the cafeteria to get some snacks for her. I’m paying at the cashier when I hear a throat clear behind me.
“Miss Taylor?”
I turn and meet a pair of icy blue eyes. Shit.
“How are you?”
It’s Perky. Little Miss Take-Your-Money. Her curly blonde ringlets and cat-eye glasses set off my fight-or-flight. What’s her real name again?