Fight Or Flight (Tempted Series Generation 2.0)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I wanted to chalk up my irrational behavior to the fact my emotions were already in disarray because of everything going on with my mom, plus I was also approaching that dreadful time of the month, so there’s that.

  But I’d be lying to myself.

  I think I’m growing some sort of attachment to him.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” my mom says.

  I shake the thoughts from my head and give her my undivided attention, reminding myself I should not be obsessing over Eric when she has one foot in Heaven.

  “I’m sorry,” I reply. “Should I find us another movie to watch?” I grab the remote from her nightstand and turn my eyes to the television. In the last few days, we’ve streamed more movies than anything else and she always falls asleep halfway thru. “What are we in the mood for? A rom-com?”

  “Brook, baby, look at me.”

  The familiar tone she uses when she’s about to break my heart sounds and I cringe almost instantly. My heart can’t take any more.

  Be brave.

  Be strong.

  Be a hurricane.

  I slowly divert my gaze back to her and swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “Yeah?” I swallow.

  “Baby, you’ve been cooped up in here most of the day.”

  “That’s not true, I went for pizza.”

  She smiles.

  “How does the car run?”

  When we arrived back at the house, I left Eric to deal with taking in the food and made a beeline for my mom’s room to thank her for the car, but we didn’t really get to chat about it because a moment later, Riggs and Eric entered the room and helped my mom into a wheelchair. Eric wheeled mom, and Riggs pushed the pole with the IV behind them.

  Mom didn’t eat pizza with us, but Lauren had made her one of her signature smoothies. If she managed three sips that was a lot. Still, she sat at the table with us, and for five whole minutes, I enjoyed dinner with my mom. When she looked as though she was struggling to keep her head up, Eric and Riggs dropped their slices and helped her back to bed.

  I quickly stood from the table to follow, but Lauren urged me to finish my slice. I was torn for a moment. Part of me wanted to stay, especially when Riggs and Eric returned. Everyone started sharing stories from their day and it felt normal like it was something we did every day. But the other part of me knew my place was with my mom. I scarfed down the rest of my dinner and hurried back to her room.

  “It runs great,” I finally reply. “Riggs put new brakes and tires on it too.”

  “He’s a man of his word,” she says thoughtfully. Then she stares at me for a beat. “Tell me about Eric. I haven’t spent much time with him. He went with you to pick up the pizza, right? What’s he like?”

  Her question surprises me. Of all the people in this house, why does she want to know about him?

  “Yeah, I didn’t know where the pizzeria was, so he took the ride with me.”

  There’s so much I want to tell her, like the night in the garage and how he showed me my dad’s bike and the butterflies I feel whenever he’s around. I want to share his confession and analyze why it hurts my chest whenever I think about him joining the Army, and I really want to ask her why she never taught me the proper way to consume an Oreo.

  “And?” she probes. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  I suck my lower lip between my teeth and watch as a smile spreads across her lips. It dawns on me then that this is likely the only time I’ll ever be able to share a crush with my mom. She won’t be around for any of my future dates. She’ll never meet my future boyfriend or be there to give me advice when I fall in love. All we have is Eric Montgomery.

  “I think I like him,” I blurt. As soon as the words spill from my mouth, I blush, and my lips form a frown. “Is that weird? We only know each other for a short while and well, we live together. God, it is weird. I mean, it sounds weird. Doesn’t it sound weird?”

  My mom laughs.

  “It sounds like normal teenage stuff to me.”

  There’s that word again.

  Normal.

  “He’s a cute boy,” she continues. “Respectful and funny too. He makes me laugh, just like his dad used to when we were kids.”

  I nod, biting back a smile because she’s right. Eric is all those things, but I’m discovering there is so much more to him.

  “He’s sweet and considerate and he says all the right things,” I add, meeting her gaze. “He called me a hurricane. At first, I thought it was an insult, but then he said there’s something beautiful about a hurricane. They are strong and resilient. He also showed me Bones’ bike. They keep it in the garage. Can you believe that? After all this time, they still have his Harley.”

  Tears pool in her eyes and a sad smile fills her face as she nods.

  “I believe it,” she croaks.

  “Mom, I have butterflies whenever I’m around him. Like they never go away. Is that how it started for you and Bones, er—I mean, Eric?”

  My whole life my mom referred to my dad as Eric, but for some reason it doesn’t feel right to refer to him by his God given name anymore. Maybe it has something to do with him sharing the same name as Eric Montgomery, but I think it’s mostly because everyone here refers to him as Bones. All the stories they’ve kept locked in their hearts are about Bones, not the Eric my mom once knew. It’s like in their time apart my dad evolved into a totally different person and the man he became left a major mark on the world.

  “Yes,” she confirms. “I used to know when he entered a room before my eyes ever reached his because I’d feel the butterflies as soon as he stepped foot inside.” She lifts her hand to curl my hair around her fingers. It's a simple task, and yet it looks as if it takes every ounce of her energy.

  “It sounds like my girl has a crush,” she whispers and though she smiles, a lone tear slips from the corner of her eye.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She shakes her head quickly.

  “You didn’t upset me, Brook,” she whispers, touching a hand to my cheek. “I love you, my girl. I love you so much. Come here, give me some sugar.”

  Setting the remote back on the nightstand, I climb into her bed and wrap my arms around her. She’s all skin and bones. I try not to grimace. I try not to cry. I lay my head on her chest and relish in the feel of her arms around me.

  “He’s right, you know? You, my beautiful daughter, are the fiercest hurricane to ever make landfall. You are stronger than you know. Braver than you believe. I am so proud to be your mom, Brooklyn.”

  She kisses the top of my head and I squeeze her a little tighter. I’d hold on forever if I could.

  “What’s a guy gotta do around here to get in on that?”

  I lift my head from my mom’s chest and glance toward the door. Standing in the doorway with a bowl of popcorn in his hands, Eric winks at me before quickly diverting his eyes to my mom.

  “Joss, is it okay if I join the two of you?”

  “It’s more than okay,” she whispers hoarsely.

  A megawatt grin spreads across his lips. He must’ve taken a shower after dinner because his hair is wet and the t-shirt he’s wearing clings to his shoulders. It’s not his usual bedtime attire, but even with the lack of skin showing, he still manages to provoke those pesky flutters in the pit of my belly. I unravel myself from my mom’s arms and sit up on the bed, watching as he moves to take a seat in the chair next to her bed. He grabs the remote and hands me the bowl of popcorn.

  “So what are we watching?” he asks.

  Holding the bowl of popcorn, I just sort of stare at him with what I’m sure is a dumbfounded expression.

  “Why don’t you pick,” Mom suggests. She squeezes my hand and I turn my attention back to her. “Honey, you’re staring at the poor boy like he’s an alien,” she whispers.

  “She does that a lot,” Eric says. His eyes are focused on the television, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Oh, I
love this movie.”

  My face feels like it’s on fire and I bite back the urge to elbow my frail mother for calling me out on my ridiculous reaction to him. Instead, I focus on the television just as he selects American Sniper as his movie of choice, and the ache in my chest returns as he settles back in the chair and takes the popcorn from my lap. I have no idea how we got here; him relaxing in a chair watching a movie with me and my dying mom. But here we are and as strange as it is, it also feels perfectly right which is confusing as hell.

  Then again everything about being a teenager is confusing.

  Sighing, I make myself comfortable beside my mom as the movie starts and I try like hell not to stare at him. At some point during the movie my mom dozes off, leaving me and Eric watching the Bradley Cooper flick. I finally give into temptation and glance at Eric. I try to picture him in uniform, lacing his boots and running into combat. It’s quite the image, and soon those butterflies dissolve into a sea of dread.

  I must’ve fell asleep during the movie because I woke up this morning beside my mom with a blanket draped over me. She was still sleeping, so I creeped quietly out of her room and went in search of Eric. I guess I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on him, but also for acting so weird. I was still reeling from his confession and watching him immerse himself in that movie made it all too real. Aside from the gazillion other reasons I shouldn’t be crushing on Eric, he was eventually going to leave, and I could not take another loss.

  So, the plan was to apologize and then distance myself. No more midnight meetings in the kitchen or spontaneous trips to a pizzeria and definitely no more movies with my mom. But Eric had already left for school and since Lauren burned the cupcakes for Bella’s bake sale, she had to make a quick run to the bakery, leaving Riggs the last man standing.

  He made me breakfast and over chocolate chip pancakes he surprised me with a GoPro. I finally got a dose of Riggs’ nerdy side and the two of us busied ourselves making videos with my mom. Things were going great. We were making memories and mom was laughing. But as usual, the bubble burst when the nurse came to check on her.

  My mom is in renal failure.

  The sand in the hourglass is running out.

  Suddenly, the sliding doors open and close behind me and jar me away from obsessing over the harsh truth I received earlier.

  “Oh, sorry, Brooklyn, I didn’t realize anyone was out here,” Lauren says as I spin around.

  She lifts a bottle of wine to her lips and starts chugging. Having never seen this side of my soon to be guardian, I find myself mildly amused. It's amazing how everyone in this house seems to possess the same talent. You can be at your lowest and somehow, someway, they manage to make you temporarily forget your troubles. They can even get you to smile when your heart feels too heavy.

  She lowers the bottle and takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs. Her eyes find mine as she brings the bottle back to her lips, holding it there for a moment.

  “This isn’t an everyday occurrence,” she says, pointing to the bottle with her free hand. “I usually opt for a wine glass, but those damn PTA moms did me in today. Everything with them is a competition like anyone really gives a flying fuck if there are caramel chips in the brownies. Get the fuck out of here with that noise.”

  She takes another swig and for the first time since the nurse came to deliver the bad news, I don’t feel consumed by my grief. Tucking the bottle between her thighs, she shakes her head and continues with her rant.

  “I had to swap the cupcakes out of the bakery box and put them in one of those ridiculous plastic carriers or they’d fucking stone me in the school gym for not baking them myself.” She points a finger at me. “When you have kids don’t let those bitches control you. Buy the cupcakes and hold that bakery box proud, you’ll be doing a service to women everywhere.”

  I smile at her.

  “I promise I’ll buy the cupcakes.”

  She returns the gesture and pats the empty chair next to her.

  “I’ll drive you to the bakery,” she adds. “We’ll show those crazy broads up together.”

  I try to imagine it. Me as a mom, calling Lauren to help me snag some baked goods for my kid’s bake sale. The image comes as easily as the one of Eric in uniform did, and a bunch of questions run rapidly through my head. Is it strange that I can see it? That I can see her standing next to me instead of my own mom? Have I already found a place in my heart for them? Is that why it’s so easy for me to imagine my future with them?

  “I’m such a shit,” Lauren groans. “Here I am complaining about cupcakes and the parent-teacher association when I should be holding my arms out to you, asking what I can do to make you feel better.”

  Meeting her concerned gaze, I shake my head.

  “I’d much rather talk about the bake sale if that’s okay,” I say.

  Sometimes a person doesn’t need to be coddled, sometimes they need a distraction from the pain.

  Twelve

  Eric

  “You really like her, don’t you?”

  For fuck’s sake.

  Can’t a guy stare out the kitchen window at the girl talking to his mom without having someone call him out for being a creep?

  Drawing the curtains closed, I turn around and glare at Robert.

  “Of course I like our mom,” I hiss. What a ridiculous question.

  He barks out a laugh as he slides onto one of the kitchen stools, tucking his glasses into the front of his shirt.

  “Right, so you’re spying on our mom.”

  “I’m not spying on anyone,” I argue.

  I’m simply observing.

  Ignoring me, he continues, “I could probably get on board with that because you’re fucking weird but unless you got a fetish for older women that doesn’t explain the movie night with Joss and Brooklyn.”

  “So I watched a movie with them, big deal.”

  He points to the stack of board games sitting on the counter beside me.

  “Did I miss the memo for family game night too?”

  Okay, the little shit has got me there. I found the games in the basement and before I caught a glimpse of Brooklyn on the patio with my mom, I planned on bringing them into Joss’ room. I had heard about her going into renal failure and assumed Joss wouldn’t be up to playing Monopoly or Scrabble, but I also knew Brooklyn wouldn’t be too keen on leaving her mother’s side and there are only so many movies a girl can pretend to watch while she counts her mom’s last breaths.

  Maybe she hated board games, but it was still worth a shot. Anything to keep her mind off things and if I managed to pull a smile out of her, that would be an extra bonus.

  Smiles were becoming rare for her.

  I really thought movie night would’ve made her happy, but that turned out to be a bust. Apparently, war movies aren’t Brooklyn’s favorite—something I probably should’ve picked up on when I revealed I wanted to join the Army. It felt right to share at the time, but the more I shared, the less enthused she seemed. At one point I thought she was going to cry.

  I swear girls are the hardest creatures to figure out.

  They need to come with a handbook or something.

  A guide on how to read their minds would be super helpful.

  “Yeah, you got it bad,” Rob comments.

  I roll my eyes and cross my arms against my chest.

  “I’m just trying to help take her mind off things. Instead of making fun of me, why don’t you try helping me out? It’s been a while since I beat your ass in Monopoly. I bet Brooklyn will get a kick out of that.”

  “I may be younger, bro, but I ain’t stupid. You need a wingman.”

  Um…no. That’s definitely not what I need, especially if he’s offering himself. The poor kid has an awful track record with the ladies.

  “Words a mother dreads.”

  I spin around at the sound of my mom’s voice and my eyes immediately lock with Brooklyn’s.

  “Hey.” The corners of my lips immediately ti
ck upward at the sight of her. “I was looking for you.”

  She raises an eyebrow.

  “I think Robert is probably a better choice for a wingman.”

  Of course she heard that part. The universe hates me.

  “I don’t need a wingman,” I argue.

  Not this time.

  “Good,” my mom says, lifting the wine bottle to her lips. “I can’t handle the two of you on the prowl right now.” The wine bottle pauses at her lips and I feel her gaze intently on me. “Oh, boy,” she mutters. “I’m gonna need more wine.”

  Peeling my eyes away from Brooklyn to glance at my mom, I watch her chug the wine. Things must’ve gone bad at the bake sale.

  “Uh…are you okay?” I ask.

  She lowers the bottle and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, all while staring at me with an all too knowing look in her eyes. That’s the thing about moms. They’re fucking perceptive. They know what you’re thinking and feeling before you do, and as my mom continues to stare at me, I become all too aware that she isn’t chugging wine because she’s had a bad day. She knows her cub has the hots for the girl standing next to her.

  “She had a rough day at the bake sale today,” Brooklyn supplies, drawing my attention back to her. She eyes the board games for a second before lifting her head. “What’s with the games?”

  Beads of sweat form on my forehead as I look at the games.

  Abort! Abort! Abort!

  “Well …” I scratch the back of my head. “I thought …” I wipe the sweat from my brow.

  Everyone stares at me like I’m having a seizure or something, except Rob. The world's worst wingman just fucking grins. I look back at Brooklyn. “I thought you might want to take a break from the movie marathon and play Monopoly with me.”

  “Yep, definitely going to need more wine,” mom mutters.

  Swiping more sweat from my forehead, I turn to her.

  “You can play too,” I tell her. “We can make it a family affair.”