“Silas.” My mother’s voice slices through my dream of Pansy.
Blinking, I open my eyes, only to see my mother hovering above. A groan escapes my lips at my nightmare. Why the hell do I have my mother in a fantasy about Pansy? Turning over, I bury my head into the mass of Pansy’s hair and sigh on the exhale. She’s real and in my bed. It wasn’t all a dream.
“Silas, get up, now,” my mother says. Shit, she’s real and actually standing in my bedroom.
Pansy stirs, rolling over to face me with a gasp, eyes wide and confused at the strange woman hovering over us. Clutching the sheet to her, she buries her head into my chest. “Who is that?”
“Silas, tell your friend to leave.”
Does she think I’m fifteen and this is her house? Irritation prickles at my skin.
“Mom.”
“Oh my God, that’s your mom?” Pansy squeaks into my flesh.
“Pansy, you stay.” With a reassuring rub on her back, I carefully extricate myself from the bed.
Pansy pulls the sheet over her head, curling into a fetal position. My mother scowls with her hands on her hips and lips pursed.
“Oh my God.” Pansy jolts from the bed forgetting her embarrassment. “I’m late! I fell asleep.”
Grabbing her phone, she groans at the time and rests her head in the palm of her hand.
“Who on earth is this girl?” my mother asks.
“Let’s go.” I pull my mother to the door and turn to Pansy. “Jorge will drive you. Call Betty and come down when you’re ready.”
“Who is that?” Mom asks. “You’re just leaving her in your room? Silas, we’ve talked to you about strangers in your home.”
I growl -- Pansy’s in earshot -- and pick up the pace, tugging my mother along and closing the bedroom door behind me. Like they know anything about me. If they did, she’d know that I never have strangers in my home.
“Why are you here?” My teeth clench so tight my jaw aches.
“Silas, don’t speak to your mother like that.” My father stands at the landing.
“This may be hard for you to understand, but this is my house, and you can’t come barging into my room like that.”
I usher them downstairs and into the kitchen, refusing to say a word until we’re far enough away that Pansy won’t be further insulted by what I’m sure is to come. We pass Jorge on the stairs, and tell him to be ready for Pansy.
“What are you doing here?” I head for the freshly-brewed coffee. Lucia is an angel.
“You’re making a mistake about quitting the band, and since you won’t talk to us, we decided to come to you.” My father pulls a chair from the kitchen table, positioning it so he’s facing me.
“And why is it a mistake?” I don’t know why I’m bothering to ask; I already know what they’ll say. But I’m obviously a masochist, giving them another opportunity to hurt or disappoint me.
“Have you thought about this long-term? Trojan is on a high. Why would you walk away from the goldmine in front of you?”
My father is animated, his hands moving as fast as he’s talking. All the while, my mother is nodding furiously, her ponytail swishing back and forth like a fly swatter. They are worse than the record label, if that’s even possible, wanting every penny they can get from me.
“None of this is about the money. I’ve got more than enough even if I never work another day in my life.” I don’t plan on it, but I’m trying to make a point. “I could live comfortably for the rest of my life.”
“Silas, you’re short-sighted. This is yours for the taking. You don’t leave money on the table.”
“I don’t want the money.”
He abruptly stands, taking two strides toward me, fists clenched. “Why are you so damn selfish?”
It shouldn’t hurt. His words should bounce off me like a ball hitting the rim of the basketball net. Quick, painless, and rebounding, but they don’t. Each word pelts my bruised chest, heavy with all this shit I’ve carried with me for too long.
It never used to be like this. I don’t know why things changed, but it happened one day five years ago, when out of the blue, my parents asked to be power of attorney on my accounts. They claimed it would be easier on me if they had access. Loud, jarring alarms bells went off that day and haven’t stopped ringing since. I’m still waiting for an explanation, a reason to stop the incessant warning and anxiety within, but I fear it’ll never come.
My father’s lecturing pulls me back to the nightmare unfolding in my kitchen.
“We’ve supported you, and all we’re asking is for you to do the same for us. You’re such a disappointment,” my father says.
Ready to volley my response, both their eyes narrow on something behind me and I turn to see Pansy, dressed in shorts and a black Pearl Jam tee, with her hair piled high on her head in a messy knot, standing in the doorway. She’s flushed and her usually open expression is pinched. She must have heard.
I hold my hand out to her, and she tentatively comes my way, her gaze on my parents. Wanting to move past this and hoping her bright and happy disposition will shift the mood, I welcome her presence.
“Mom, Dad, this is Pansy.” I want to say lover because girlfriend sounds so immature, yet lover doesn’t begin to capture what we are.
“Hello.” Her delivery is flat, but not rude.
She definitely heard and part of me is embarrassed. We haven’t talked that much about my parents although my guess is she’s aware of the tension. It’s hard to miss.
My parents stare at her, discriminating, but neither says a word. Like a fist to the gut, I suck in a breath and want to punch back. How dare they be so fucking rude to her?
“If you’re not going to acknowledge her, get the hell out of my house.”
Pansy squeezes my hand and sucks in a breath. Looking to her, she’s shaking her head. “It’s okay. I called Betty, I need to go. Talk to your parents.” Before I can protest, despite their snub, she turns to them and says graciously, “It was nice to meet both of you.”
Not waiting for a response, she twirls on her heel and leaves. I don’t want her to go, and quickly follow her out of the room.
“Pansy, wait.” I tug at the back of her shirt and pull her into me. “Don’t go.”
She twists to face me, hands flat on my chest and leans in. “Silas, I have to, and they obviously want to talk to you.”
“When does Betty need you?”
From the way she averts my gaze, it’s obvious she has time. “Since I missed the lunch hour, I’ve got about two hours before she needs me. But Silas, my being here is not helping.”
“Stay for me.” My gut churns at the plea in my tone.
I hate that they’re here and are likely going to hound me for more money. And most of all, I hate that she’s leaving.
“Silas, call me, but I have to go.”
“Fine, just leave.”
She flinches, eyes widening at my cold, firm tone. “Silas, go talk to them. They’re your parents, don’t let this misunderstanding ruin your visit.”
“You don’t understand…” I start to explain, roughly running my hands through my hair when my anger gets the better of me. “Fuck it, just go.”
“Silas, don’t be like that. It’ll be okay.”
My eyes darken, narrowing at her. I’m fed up with my parents always fucking shit up and now, Pansy’s inadvertently defending them, on top of the fact that she’s leaving. I point at her; she’s become my target.
“Don’t even start with your unicorns and rainbow bullshit. You’ve got no fucking clue if everything’s going to be okay.”
Turning around, I walk away. She stuns me by grabbing my arm and moving in front of me, a mixture of concern and sadness clouding her features. She stands on the balls of her feet, her delicate fingers trace my lips, her eyes never leaving my mouth. A small smile ghosts her lips, and there’s a stirring low in my belly as she presses into me; her lips barely brush mine like an already forgotten goodbye.