The Art of Being Indifferent (The Twisted Family Tree Series)

by Brooke Moss

She swiped the backs of her hands underneath her eyes again. “Fine. I don’t care.”

  I glared at her. “Do you really mean that?”

  “You and I…” She gestured between us. “We don’t make sense. This…” She gestured to the inside of the car and the gun on the floor. “This isn’t you. It’s the dirtiness I grew up with. It’s like second nature for me.”

  I grit my teeth. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh, come on,” she snapped, tilting her head at me. “You’re not really feeding into that whole Cinderella garbage, are you? You don’t really think I belong in Twisted Tree with the Coulters, and you, and your perfect reputation, and all your popular friends, do you?”

  “I did.” Reaching forward, I grabbed the passenger’s side door handle, and swung it open. “And so did you until your mom showed back up.”

  “P-please.” Her voice shook as she began to cry openly now. “T-this is my life. I’m the dented can of peas.”

  “You’re what?” I hollered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Fine. You want to throw away your life for a woman who doesn’t care about you, go ahead. But I’m not going to watch you do it.”

  I didn’t wait for her answer. I just pulled myself out of the car and started walking away. Posey climbed out the driver’s side and watched me. My shoes scuffed on the cracked pavement as wove through the cars, nearly drowning out the sound of her telling me to F off.

  I bristled, turning around slowly. Lines of cars waited for the ferry parked on either side, and the people stared at us. I didn’t care. “That’s the best you can come up with? You think I haven’t been told that a thousand times by other people? By my own old man?”

  She stood there, her tears dragging mascara down her pale white face. “I don’t care if you go. I’m better off without you following me around.”

  I stepped close to her. So close I could feel warmth coming off her body in the cold night air. My heart pounded so hard, I thought it would crack my ribs. I pointed my finger at her. “You’re only saying that because you’re scared.”

  She grimaced. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes you are,” I growled. “You finally have a taste of what life can be like. Of what it’s like to be loved by parents, by siblings, and by me. Now you’re choosing to go back to the old life you escaped because you’re afraid somehow you’re going to lose all of this. You’re scared shitless that one day the Coulters are going to wake up and decide they don’t want to adopt you, or that I’m going to wake up one day and decide I don’t love you… so you’re giving up!”

  She looked away.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” I said, my voice thick. “I love you. I love you, Posey. And you may be ready to give up on me, because everybody else in your life has given up on you. But I’m not doing that. Do you hear me? I’m not giving up.”

  We stood there staring each other down, I prayed she would throw her arms around me and kiss me. But she didn’t. After about twenty seconds, I heard Celeste and Norm approaching with their slushies, and Posey broke eye contact to look at them.

  “Bye, Drew…” she said softly, going to meet them.

  She walked away, and it felt like I’d been sucker punched. It ached ten thousand times worse than being socked in the ribs by my dad. Pulling my hood up over my head, I turned and started walking between the rows of cars, away from Posey.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Her.

  I woke with a start.

  Mom and Norm were in the bedroom fighting, and it was getting pretty heated in there. I tried to roll over on the couch—there wasn’t a bedroom waiting for me, after all—but the stench of cat urine slapped me in the face.

  “Ugh,” I moaned, sitting up. The sun was up. I could tell by the sliver of sunlight peeking out from under the foil covering Norm’s windows. I wasn’t even sure I’d slept more than an hour or two. We’d not arrived at the apartment until eleven-thirty, and then their friends had come in and out all night. Every time I dozed off, someone else pounded on the door, waking me up.

  Just like when I lived with Mom before, the place was a wreck. There were pet stains and crap all over the floor from a cat I still hadn’t seen, and a pit bull everybody called “K-Pin.” My stomach ached all night, because I hadn’t eaten since lunch at school, but Mom had nothing but vodka and a carton of Camels in the fridge.

  The apartment never quieted down. Music was always pumping, seedy looking strangers constantly came, went, smoked and talked at full volume, oblivious that I was trying to sleep. And the worst part of my night was just like when I was little, someone always moaned and giggled in the next room. First Mom and Norm. Then Norm and some girl who looked like she’d been sleeping in a gutter for a week. Then it was Mom and some guy who Norm apparently owed money, who’d asked if I wanted to party with him privately.

  By the time I’d cried myself to sleep curled on the end of the couch—with a knife I’d stolen from the kitchenette under the cushion—I felt dirty all over.

  Mom hadn’t changed at all. She was still a junkie. That much was apparent by the way she bounced all over the apartment like a cricket once she’d emerged from the bathroom after we got home. In between, er, visitors, she cleaned behind her fridge. And picked at her face in a hand mirror all night. Sometimes she looked at me from across the room, and blurted out, “Oh, hi, Posey!” like she’d forgotten she’d brought me there.

  I looked around the room, my stomach turning at the sight of empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and dog poop everywhere. Nothing had changed. Seven years had passed, but nothing in my mom’s life had changed.

  What did I expect? Did I really think she would ever change? Seven years of nothing from her, and she’d show up and act like Mary-freaking-Poppins? Wrong. She was as screwed up as ever was, if not more. I imagined the baby in her belly, deformed and tweaked out because of whatever the hell Mom snorted all night, and my stomach turned. It would be a miracle if my sibling—my sister—lived to her due date.

  The bedroom finally went quiet, and I sighed a breath of relief I didn’t know I’d been holding. Pushing myself off the nasty couch, I went to the kitchen to get a drink, but couldn’t find a cup. Using my hands to slurp up some of the water, I thought about what I’d said to Drew the night before.

  “Oh. Oh, no…” I leaned onto the countertop and dropped my face in my hands.

  I was so rude. So stubborn. So transfixed by my mom’s presence that I’d become stupid. Utterly, completely stupid. In one evening of lapsed judgment, I’d thrown away everything I’d accomplished over the past couple of months. I’d finally been a part of a family, and I’d managed to land the world’s most perfect boyfriend. Then, in one major lapse of judgment, I’d sent him packing. In the dark. Ten miles from home.

  I’d really outdone myself this time.

  “What are you doing?” Mom demanded, coming out of the bedroom. She still wore the same tee shirt she’d had on day before, but now she was only wearing a thong on her bottom half. It was tiny and made of lace, and her stomach hung out over the waistband. “You’re too damn loud. Norm needs some sleep.”

  Embarrassed, I averted my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “What time is it?” She looked at the oven on the stove and groaned. “Six am? You’re up at six am? What the hell, Po?”

  My heart hurt, and I wrapped my arms around myself. That nickname didn’t sound right coming from my mom’s mouth. It was Drew’s word now. “I was thirsty.”

  She rubbed her eyes, smearing flaky makeup across her face. “Go to the 7-11 on the corner. Get me a pop, would you?” When my mom’s eyes opened, she caught me staring at her. “You can get one for yourself, okay?”

  I pulled my hair into a bun on the back of my head, trying to buy time. “Um… Mom?”

  She turned on the stove burner and lit a cigarette, taking a long pull off it. “Yeah?”

  “Um,” I said, fidgeting. I wasn’t really sure what I expected to accomplish. She was clearly coming down, and
her mood would only get worse. “Remember yesterday when you said Rory and Julian were coming for a visit?”

  “Huh?” Mom looked at me, one eye closed as smoke streamed across her face.

  “Yesterday. Remember?” I chewed my lip. Her eyes were vacant—she didn’t remember. “You said Aunt Lisa was coming over with the boys.”

  Mom grunted, and flicked her ashes in the sink. “Lisa? I haven’t seen her in ages. Judgmental whore, that one.”

  The air whooshed out of my lungs. Of course they weren’t coming for a visit. She’d just said that to get me to go with her. To regain control. Just like Drew said.

  I looked around the apartment again, my heart sinking to the bottom of my stomach. It was Saturday morning… Paula made homemade omelets every week, then handed out lists of chores for all the kids to complete. I longed to be in the messy old farmhouse, surrounded by discarded toys and piles of clean laundry waiting to be folded, instead of in this nauseating apartment.

  What the hell had I done?

  “You going to the store, or what?” Mom said, taking another drag. She scratched at a raw spot on her arm absently, making it bleed. “Go before Norm wakes up. He’s a bear when he’s tired.”

  After the bender they’d been on, I imagined he would sleep for at least a week, but what did I know? “Um, okay.” I brushed some cat hair off my shirt and reached for the dented door. “Do you have any money?”

  Mom scowled at me. “Don’t you?”

  “No.” I shook my head as she stubbed her cigarette out on the stovetop. “Sorry.”

  “What, your new mom didn’t send you with any pocket money?” Mom shoved past me, and flopped on the couch. I shuddered when she stretched out face down on the matted fabric. “Don’t play, baby girl. If they live on Whidbey Island, they’ve got money. Use that to get me a slushy.”

  “Mom, I don’t have any cash.” I didn’t bother telling her that the Coulters barely had enough to make ends meet. She wouldn’t remember it ten minutes from now. “Do you have any change?”

  Her eyes drifted shut. “God. Fine. Check the freezer.”

  I pulled it open and immediately covered my nose. It was caked in mold, and obviously not working. There were at least ten plastic freezer bags of weed. “I don’t see any money.”

  She pushed herself up on the couch and glanced at me. As soon as she did, her eyes widened. “Shit. Close that.” I obeyed, and she added, “Norm makes hash. You can try it later.”

  My body suddenly felt heavy. I was in a drug dealer’s apartment, and judging by how many people came in and out of this apartment since we’d arrived, he had a pretty decent clientele. But every second I stayed there watching my mom crash, listening to Norm snore in the next room, and watching their pit bull take a dump on the floor, took me another step farther away from Twisted Tree and the Coulters.

  And Drew.

  Mom’s head tilted to the side and she narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, come on now. You’re seventeen. Don’t tell me your virgin eyes have never seen weed.”

  My cheeks heated. “No, I…”

  When my words petered out, she snorted and laid back down. “Whatever. Check my purse.”

  “Where is it?” I looked around, and my elbow bumped a stack of old pizza boxes on the counter. They fell to the floor with a smack.

  “Dammit, I said Norm is sleeping!” Mom bellowed, her words slurred by the cushion her face was pressed into. “It’s over there…” She pointed towards the dog’s kennel, where her purse was half dumped out on the floor, then promptly started snoring.

  I went through the pile, bile climbing in the back of my throat. The stench of pets, urine, and filth was so strong, it assaulted my stomach. And… I missed home.

  Home.

  I wanted to go back to Twisted Tree. I wanted to feel Paula’s arms around me, and hear the clatter of the kids doing dishes in the kitchen. I wanted a shower, and clean clothes, and food in my belly. I wanted to shut myself in my own room, roll up in the handmade quilt John’s mother sewed for me, and listen to music until all this unease dissipated.

  Oh, wait. My iPod was broken. Scratch the music.

  I also wanted to go back to Drew. He’d been right the whole time. And I’d cussed him out and sent him packing. He saw right through my pity party, and my whole spiel about being the dented can of peas at the grocery store. He’d only stayed with us for as long as he had last night because he wanted to protect me. Drew swore he wouldn’t give up on me—something nobody had ever promised me before—and I’d just left him. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I loved him. I needed him. Drew was the one who’d brought me to life. There was probably no chance that he’d ever forgive me for choosing my screwed up mother over him and my life in Twisted Tree. But I had to try.

  A crash sounded in the bedroom, followed by breaking glass. “Celeste!” Norm called.

  I found a couple of crumpled dollar bills and a few quarters, and shoved them into my pocket. I had to get out of there, and fast. Darting for the door, I tripped over a discarded shoe on the floor, slamming my knee into a side table covered in empty bottles. They all hit the floor, clinking together, and some shattering.

  Mom sat up. “Damn, Posey, what’s your problem?”

  “What the hell was that, Celeste?” he bellowed through the wall. “Is Dougie here?”

  “Shit,” I hissed, fumbling with the door. I didn’t want to know who Dougie was. If he was half as gross as the other losers who’d come earlier, I wanted to be at 7-11 when he arrived. Ducking through the door, I pulled it shut just as Norm stormed out of the bedroom. I could hear them screaming at each other as I stalked down the sidewalk, away from the complex.

  It was raining outside. The perfect weather to match my mood on a Saturday morning after I’d run away with a couple of speed freaks…

  Wait. Saturday?

  I stopped at the corner in front of the complex, and covered my face. “Oh, no,” I moaned, my voice breaking. “Oh, please, please, please, nooooo…”

  Behind my hands, I opened and closed my eyes a few times, hoping to wake up from a bad dream. Of all the days for me to have temporary insanity. Of all the days for me to throw away my entire life in one fell swoop…

  I’d chosen Homecoming Saturday.

  I was not only the worst daughter and girlfriend in the world. I was also the stupidest.

  My heart started pounding so hard my whole body vibrated. I had to get to the store. Did I still remember Paula and John’s home number? Or what about their cells?

  I went to step off the curb and nearly got splattered by a dented up El Camino with plastic over one window. I stumbled backwards as it peeled into the complex parking lot and skidded to a halt across two spots. Two guys, as big as houses and sporting enough tattoos to cover the Mariners infield, climbed out and charged towards Norm’s apartment. One pounded on the door with his meaty fist, knocking it open just as Norm opened it. Norm tripped backwards into the apartment, and my mom started screaming obscenities.

  I turned back towards the curb, towards the 7-11, but hesitated. Maybe my mom needed me. Maybe those thugs were hurting her. Or the baby. Hell, what if they killed her? I had to go back. She didn’t have anybody to protect her. That’s why she was still such a mess. If I just stuck around to take care of her, maybe she would pull her crap together, once and for all…

  I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath.

  She wasn’t my responsibility. I wasn’t her mother, she was mine, and she’d already blown it. She’d blown it so badly the state of Washington deemed her unworthy to even have her name on my damn birth certificate anymore. She’d abandoned me.

  I had to be done.

  I couldn’t save her from Norm. I couldn’t save her from the drugs. I couldn’t save her from the thugs or the scuzzy apartment, either. Most of all, I couldn’t save her from herself.

  I wanted my family back. I didn’t know if they’d even have me after what I’d put them through. But I sure as
hell wasn’t giving them up without a fight.

  I loved them.

  Looking both ways, I stepped off the curb and ran for the 7-11.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Him.

  “Dude. If you don’t stop pacing, I’m gonna have to punch you.” When I shot a glare at Mac, he put his hands up, and added, “Sorry. Just warning you.”

  I wanted to sit down. Really, I did. But it was eight o’clock in the morning, and nobody had heard from Posey in twelve damn hours. I was completely frantic.

  It had started out as anger. When I walked away from Posey, her mom, and that scuzz pile, Norm, at the ferry dock, I’d thought to myself, the hell with this. I’m done. But by the time I’d walked a few miles, my anger melted into pure worry.

  Posey was alone with a couple of meth heads who had a handgun and a shoebox filled with enough speed to kill a handful of elephants. The girl I loved, the girl who had basically given me the strength to stand up to my dad for the first time in—oh, I don’t know—ever… had been rendered temporarily insane and now lost somewhere in the underbelly of Seattle.

  I’d walked back to the docks, getting there just in time to see the ferry cross the halfway point on the sound. She was already gone. Panic set in like the sting of a sunburn, and a slow pain built up all over my body. I should have looked out for her, protected her. I’d dropped the ball. I’d blown the race.

  Groaning, I ran a hand through my hair, and moved to the front window of Mac’s house. “Where is she?”

  “Drew, why don’t you come in here and eat something?” Mac’s mom, Karen, called from the kitchen.

  She and Mac had spent most of the night up with me. After seeing that the ferry had gone, I’d darted to the same convenience store where Celeste got her precious slushy and called them. Karen had picked me up and driven me straight to the Coulters house to tell them where Posey had gone. Just as I expected, they were frantic. They’d gone straight to work, calling the police and alerting everyone they knew in Seattle. But there was nothing the cops could do. At seventeen years old, and having gone with Celeste of her own free will, Posey was considered a runaway. And until she was gone for twenty-four hours, an Amber Alert wouldn’t be issued.