Bad Boy: You Are Not Alone

by Kelli Walker

  And I had a feeling she would need it before the turn of the new year.

  “I called the pilot,” I said, poking my head back into the room. “He’ll be here in 30 minutes.”

  “We’ll be down there,” Maddie said as she rubbed Tina’s back.

  Brit and Spencer were waiting for me at the bottom of the steps with worried looks on their faces. I set my suitcase down next to me before I embraced them both, and I was glad when Spencer initiated the conversation.

  I honestly didn’t know if I had the energy to.

  “Brit, Brady, and I will stay behind to clean up the house, then we’re gonna fly on back, too,” Spencer said.

  “Maddie sent me a text message,” Brit said as she held up her phone.

  “She’s not gonna want us all at the house,” I said.

  “I figured as such. Brady’s on the computer making hotel arrangements for us,” Spencer said.

  “Tell him to include me in those plans, but get me a room by myself. I want a place for Tina to retreat if it becomes too much with her mother,” I said.

  “Which we all know will eventually happen,” Brit said.

  “Let Brady know I’ll cut him a check for the room,” I said.

  “Already taken care of,” Brady said as he came around the corner. “How is she?”

  “I found her crying on the floor, she broke her toe, and now she’s catatonic,” I said.

  “Holy shit,” Brady murmured.

  “It’s bad,” I said.

  “Where’s Maddie?” Spencer asked.

  “Tina is-”

  I was hurt that I wasn’t the one upstairs with Tina. I was hurt that Tina’s arms flew around her neck instead of mine. I was hurt that she didn’t want me at the house-- though I understood the precedence she was drawing from.

  But, it didn’t stop the hurt I felt that Tina wanted Maddie rather than me.

  “She just needs a girl,” Brit said. “Her and Maddie have gotten close ever since Tee hired her to work for her. Plus, we all know about the last time she stuck you and her mother in a room together.”

  “That was fucking fifteen years ago,” I said.

  “Just try to understand where she’s coming from,” Spencer said. “None of this is being done to intentionally hurt you. She’s just… grasping at straws. She’s an emotionally compartmentalized person. This isn’t the last time a breakdown like this will happen, and she knows that. She’s just trying to minimize the amount of tension she had to wade through the next few days.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, running my hand through my hair.

  “Are you going to fly out dressed like that?” Brady asked with a smirk.

  I looked down at my fishnet shirt and my tight leather pants and groaned. I needed to slip into the bathroom and change before the airplane got here, but I didn’t want to march back upstairs and have Tina think I was spying on her again.

  She seemed to forgive the first incident, but I’d never known her to be a constantly forgiving person.

  “You can go into my room and find something,” Spencer said. “I probably only have sweatpants and t-shirts that will fit you, but it’s better than what you’ve got on.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll wash them and get them back to you,” I said.

  And just as I trekked down the hallway and began changing in Spencer’s room, I heard the whirring of the plane’s engines roar atop the island.

  Chapter 33

  Tina

  The plane ride was pretty silent. Kevin was grasping my hand so tight I had to pull away from him and Maddie kept asking me if there was anything I needed. The clouds rolled by vision while I leaned my head against the window of the plane, and I figured I had probably been in and out of sleep the entire time. I felt Kevin reaching around and strapping me in as the plane descended into New York airspace, and I braced for the descent.

  The descents always made me nauseous.

  We got off the plane and grabbed our things, then Kevin gave me a quick kiss. He said something about calling him if I wanted him or seeing him if I needed him, but all I could think about was the impending meeting I was about to have with my mother.

  “I’ve got a car out here waiting for us whenever you’re ready, Tina,” Maddie said.

  “Thanks,” I said, nodding.

  “Seriously. Call me if you need me,” Kevin said.

  “I will. I promise. I’m sorry for all this,” I said.

  “Don’t be. Just know I’m here.”

  “Thanks.”

  The ride to my mother’s was silent. Maddie and I sat in the back of the cab, and the only thing I could think about was how my mother would throw a stink about me riding in one. She thought they were dirty and untrustworthy and was convinced that every single cab driver gouged people for their money.

  It was going to be a long week.

  “You alright, Tina?” Maddie asked.

  “I’m nervous, honestly.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because my mother is a cold, crazy individual.”

  “Oh, she can’t be that bad,” Maddie said.

  “That’s what Kevin said.”

  “You really should’ve let him come,” she said.

  “I can’t have this conversation right now,” I said.

  “Alright.”

  We finally pulled into my childhood home and Maddie gawked at how massive it was. I was used to it, but I could see how some people would be taken aback by it. The massive wrought iron gates parted for the cab before it rolled up the winding driveway lined with lemon trees.

  “Does your mother do a lot of baking?” Maddie asked.

  “Nope. Just likes the smell of lemons,” I said. “It’s probably why she puckers her lips so damn much.”

  Maddie’s giggle was music to my ears.

  We pulled up to the front of the house and I paid the driver. Maddie wanted to pay, but I told her to just let me do it. I needed to feel some semblance of control during a time like this, especially if I would be spending it with my mother.

  After all, I got my control freak tendencies from someone.

  We walked through the front doors and Bernie was there to take our things. Bernie had been the butler of the house ever since I was a child, and he hugged my neck tightly before I introduced him to Maddie.

  “He’ll be the one you go to when you’re ready to rant about my mother,” I said.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bernie,” she said.

  “Whenever you are done slaughtering my name, Tina, dinner’s ready.”

  My mother’s cool and collected voice wafted from around the corner and all I could do was sigh. Part of me was hoping she would be too tired to indulge in a late dinner, but the moment I smelled coffee coming from the kitchen I knew she had intentionally stayed up to see us in.

  “Bernie, take the girls’ things to their respective rooms,” my mother said.

  “Oh, I can get it after dinner. It’s not a problem,” Maddie said.

  I watched my mother’s eyes rake slowly up and down Maddie’s body. I knew she was clocking the bubbly voice and the massive fake tits. I watched her eyes run down Maddie’s platinum blonde hair with her dark brown roots growing out from her head. My mother’s eyes stopped at her shorts, her thick thighs bared for the world to see, and the judgement that roared behind my mother’s eyes was the only welcome I realized Maddie would get in this home.

  “I take it she’s Spencer’s?” my mother asked.

  “This is Maddie. She is my friend, my employee, and yes… Spencer’s girlfriend,” I said.

  “Mhm,” she said. “Well, dinner’s ready for whenever you girls are.”

  Maddie’s wide eyes slowly panned over to me and all I could do was shrug. I warned her about how cold and distant my mother would be, but I made a mental note to truly apologize for my mother later.

  No one should have to be subjected to the likes of her unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “What’s for
dinner?” I asked.

  “Duck confit with garlic green beans and a rice pilaf,” my mother said.

  “That sounds delicious. I’ve never had duck confit before,” Maddie said.

  “Well, you are in for a treat,” my mother said. “And it’ll help with that figure of yours.”

  “Mother,” I warned.

  “What? It takes just as much work to be thin like myself as it does to keep the curves she has on her body,” my mother said.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Maddie said.

  “It’d be better if you did,” I murmured.

  “Tina, for the life of me, I do not understand why you didn’t just let me send the car to fetch you. Did you at least wipe down the seat before you sat on it?” my mother asked.

  “I didn’t sit in a vat of ebola, mother. I just sat on the seat of a cab,” I said.

  “And they are fraught with germs. Did you pay more than $15 for the trip? I honestly shouldn’t be any more than that,” she said.

  “I believe the trip was $45 with the tip,” Maddie said.

  “Highway robbery, I tell you,” my mother said. “You’ll take the car from now on. Your first stop tomorrow will be with the florist. Your father wants pale yellow and white roses at his funeral.”

  My fork stopped halfway to my mouth and I had to take a moment to gather myself. It was astounding to me, the way my mother could talk about my father’s death as if it was a party she was planning last minute.

  “I didn’t realize he left specific instructions for his funeral,” I said.

  “Oh, yes. There’s an entire document on it. I swear, it was as if your father thought I didn’t understand how these things worked,” my mother said.

  “Buried more than one husband lately, mom?”

  “The green beans are wonderful,” Maddie said, jumping in. “Do you get them from anywhere in particular?”

  “Actually, yes. There is a fresh farmer’s market on the other side of town that sets up every Saturday. I sent Amelia there to get seasonal vegetables for our dinners.”

  “Amelia’s the chef,” I said.

  “I am sure your guest would have picked up on that. I swear, sometimes you treat the people around you as if they are idiots,” my mother said.

  “Better than the way you treat them,” I murmured.

  Maddie giggled and I smirked in her general direction. But, the way my mother slowly set her fork down told me we were about to be in for a wild ride.

  “Is there something funny about this occasion?” she asked Maddie.

  “Um… n-... no, ma’am,” Maddie said.

  “Is there something funny about the way my daughter is rudely addressing her own mother?” she asked.

  “Not… necessarily,” Maddie answered.

  “Is there something funny about the two of us planning funeral arrangements?” my mother asked.

  “That’s enough, mom,” I said.

  “Well, I enjoy laughing. I would like to know what was so funny,” she said.

  “Nothing. Nothing is funny, mom. Let’s just eat and go to bed. Maddie and I are jet-lagged and we have a massive week ahead of us,” I said.

  I could see Maddie’s eyes glistening, but she excused herself before I could take her hand. I reached for her, wanting desperately for her to stay so I didn’t have to be alone with my mother, but she rounded the corner before I could land my fingers around her wrist.

  “What an odd woman,” my mother said.

  “No, she’s not. She’s intelligent and wonderful. You just made her uncomfortable,” I said.

  “Well, she really shouldn’t be wearing something like that at the dinner table anyway. You could fly a plane right off that girl’s cleavage,” she said.

  I slammed my napkin down onto my plate before I pushed myself from the table.

  “Where are you doing?” my mother asked.

  “To see if Maddie’s alright, and then to sleep,” I said.

  “But, you haven’t hardly touched your dinner. And you are looking a bit thin,” she said.

  “Really? I’m too thin but Maddie’s somehow too thick?”

  “I never said she was too thick. I merely said she would need the calories if she wanted to keep the body shape she was going for,” she said.

  “Are you even aware of why we are here?” I asked.

  My mother’s eyes settled into an icy glare before she slowly stood from her seat.

  “Are you even aware of the fact that your husband’s dead?” I asked.

  “You will not take that tone of voice with me while you are in this house,” she said.

  “Or what? You’ll throw me out? That would honestly be a dream,” I said.

  “Your father’s body isn’t even cold yet and you come into this house with your dramatic lifestyle and your loud accusations,” my mother said. “Did you ever stop to think for one second that we have different styles of grieving? That you might be processing this differently from the way I do?”

  “I don’t know. Do you ever stop to think, in general?” I asked.

  I watched my mother take in a deep breath before she smoothed her hands along the dress she was wearing.

  “The florist is expecting you at noon tomorrow. We will need two dozen white roses and two dozen yellow roses for the funeral Saturday,” she said.

  “Can I read father’s wishes for his funeral?” I asked.

  “I’ll have them delivered to your room in the morning,” she said.

  “Can’t I read them now?”

  “I thought you said you were tired,” she said.

  “I’m never tired enough for my father,” I said.

  “But you’re always too tired for me,” she said.

  I stood there and held my gaze with my mother for what seemed like centuries. I held her steely gray gaze as her white hair fluttered around the top of her head in the braid she was wearing, but I watched a small twitch take place at her fingertips. She clasped her hands together before she drew them down in front of her body, and I heard her take in a deep breath before she parted her lips to speak.

  “I’ll have breakfast delivered to both you and your friend in the morning,” she said.

  “Mother, we can come downstairs and-”

  “I won’t be here in the morning. I have a hair and nail appointment,” she said.

  “Because that’s important when burying your husband,” I said.

  And I turned on my heels and started for the staircase before my mother could shove her foot farther into her mouth.

  Chapter 34

  Tina

  I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting behind my door. Receiving breakfast at my door wasn’t necessarily a new concept, but having it delivered in my house without hearing my mother’s voice accompanying it was. I stretched my arms and legs before I sat up in bed, and I planted my feet heavily on the floor.

  I remembered mornings when I was growing up. Mom would bring me breakfast in bed-- fruit, eggs, bacon, and juice-- and my dad would be downstairs smoking his mint pipe. By the time I was done eating breakfast, the smell of his pipe would have wafted so far up the steps that I could smell it, and that’s when Mom would start in on him smoking in the house.

  But, as I opened the door and saw breakfast sitting on the ground, there was no smell of mint. There was no smoke, there was no pipe, and there was no nagging mother.

  There was only silence.

  I picked up the breakfast tray and carried it into the room as I realized an envelope was sitting underneath my plate. I picked it up and opened it, not caring too much for food, and the words across the letterhead in big, bold letters read as such:

  Last Will And Testament

  I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes for a second. I wanted to process these last few moments. The few moments where-- for the briefest of seconds-- I could still convince myself he was alive.

  I could still tell myself my father was downstairs smoking his pipe.

  Be
cause I knew the moment I read this, it would be real. I knew the moment I showered, dressed, and went to the florist, it would be real. I knew the moment I chanced to look into my mother’s eyes, it would be real.

  “I love you so much daddy,” I whispered.

  I opened my eyes as my tears dripped onto the page. They scanned the document-- written in my father’s own handwriting-- and I read through the funeral arrangements he set forth. The writing was sloppy, no doubt written by the shaky dominant hand that was affected by one of his many strokes, but I could make out every single thing he wanted.

  White and yellow roses to lay on his casket.

  Mints in little bags to be handed to everyone that attended the funeral.

  A private burial with just the family.

  No wake.

  Eulogy to be given by…

  Me?

  He wanted me to give the eulogy?

  Not Mom?

  I flipped the page over and fumed when I saw the next page. It listed the assets he had allocated to the family, meaning my mother had this officially read without me. I saw the bottom form had already been signed off by her, and there was a blank space for my signature.

  The witness had even signed it.

  “She really likes her wedges,” I murmured.

  But, as my eyes continued to scan the document, I realized there was something off about his assets. He left control of his estate to Bernie, he left his offshore accounts I didn’t even know he had to Mom, and he left control of his business to me.

  He left me the business he built.

  I flipped to the last page and saw it was different from the others. I wasn’t written on the same elegant stationary as my father’s will and testament, but was written on something akin to cheap printer paper. I recognized the handwriting as well as the clipped phrases, and I sighed as I allowed the papers to flutter to the bed.