Justine
You’ve got to be kidding me. This isn’t happening again. It’s not fair. All of these thoughts race through my head as I run through the parking lot, my feet aching from the hike from the bus stop because I forgot my flats.
The door to my apartment hangs open, and once again the door handle looks like it’s been bludgeoned.
I creep closer to the open door. What if they’re still here? Fumbling for my phone, I pull it out and pull up the number for Campus Safety. It rings twice before an operator picks up.
“Campus Safety, is this an emergency?”
“Yes. Someone broke into my apartment. I’m in the Gilroy Student Housing Complex. I think they might still be inside.”
“Don’t go into the apartment. Is there somewhere else you can go? A neighbor’s?”
“No. I don’t know any of the neighbors.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Just please get out of sight in case the intruders are still inside. We’ve had a lot of issues over there lately. You’d be safer if you left the premises.”
I open my mouth to tell her once more that I have nowhere else to go and no way to get there, but a flash of movement distracts me.
“Ma’am?”
No way. It can’t be.
“Ma’am?” the operator calls. “Are you okay? Campus Safety is on the way.”
I hang up the phone and creep closer. The flash of long dark hair brings back memories of my childhood.
It can’t be her.
I haven’t seen my mom since the day the court awarded custody of me to Gramps. That was the last time she told me she wished I’d never been born.
The memory still cuts into me. What kind of mother says that?
She’s thin almost to the point of being frail. A long-sleeved white T-shirt hangs off her shoulders, providing little protection from the chill of fall.
“Mom?” I try out the word that hasn’t been on my lips in years.
Her head jerks around and her eyes find me in the darkness. I don’t know what I expect to be the first words out of her mouth, but definitely not the ones she speaks.
“What’d you do with the money, Justine?”
“What money?”
We walk toward each other, and I’m numb. She looks exactly the same as she did when I was sixteen. Shouldn’t she look older? More haggard?
But no, she still looks too beautiful for her age with long brown hair and dark eyes, and skin that’s still dewy and tight. The same way she looked when she tried to force me to seduce some rich old guy so she could take pictures and blackmail him for touching a minor.
Cold. Calculating.
I still remember her words. “It’s time you start earning your keep if we’re going to keep feeding you. Took you long enough to finally pass for eighteen.”
I told her to go to hell and ran to Gramps. That was the last straw for him.
She interrupts my trip down pothole-ridden memory lane. “Don’t expect me to believe you don’t have it. It took forever for the insurance company to finally pay out.”
“What money?” Confusion and anger thread through my words in equal measure.
“The life insurance. They’ve been fighting it for over a year, and then they notified us the claim was approved. Except they didn’t send us the check like they were supposed to. They said it went to you.”
“Gramps had life insurance? And I was the beneficiary?” This is all news to me.
“Doesn’t matter who the beneficiary is; that money is mine. He was my dad. I’ve been fighting for the payout. Submitting form after form until they finally gave in. Now, where’s the fucking check?”
“Did you forge my name on those forms? My signature?” I don’t know why I even bother to ask. Of course she did.
Another thought strikes me. “Did you break into my apartment before? Smash the door down? Terrify the crap out of me? All so you could look for some check I’ve never gotten?”
Her lip curls. “That was your dad. Now, quit lying to me. I want that damn check.”
“Why would you break in? Why wouldn’t you just ask me?”
Her brows pinch together in an angry slash. “Because I knew you’d lie to me just like you are right now.”
Sirens wail in the distance. Shit. Campus Safety.
My mom’s eyes dart toward the sound. “You called the cops? Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because that’s what normal people do when they find someone breaking into their apartment!” My patience is gone. “You need to get out of here if you don’t want to spend the night explaining to Campus Safety what the hell you were doing. And hope you didn’t leave fingerprints, because I guarantee they’re going to look harder than they did last time.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I get that check. You can explain to them that you were wrong.”
I cross my arms over my chest, pulling my metaphorical armor tight. “You broke into my apartment. I’m not telling them anything but the truth. There’s no check.”
“You always were an ungrateful brat. Haven’t changed a bit. I should’ve aborted you.”
The words hit me like a blow, stealing my breath.
With that parting shot, she spins around and jogs to the bushes on the far side of the parking lot before disappearing into the night.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the tears that spring to the corners. Not here. Not now. I suck in a shaky deep breath to calm myself. When I open my eyes, two Campus Safety units are turning into the parking lot. I scan the bushes and beyond as the officers park, but there’s no sign of her.
What the hell am I going to tell them?