Soda Pop

Chapter 42- The Heart to Heart

After the incident, the police of course questioned me. They asked if it was Marcus. Or even Brett. But I just told them I was looking for the bathroom and slipped and fell.

The hairy policeman didn't exactly look like he believed my story, but he wrote something in his little notebook and nodded.

"Thank you for your time Miss," He stands, and my mother walks him to our door.

When she walks back in, she sighs, and sits her head into her folded arms.

"Mom I-" I don't know how to even begin.

She lifts her head, reaching out her hand to run her fingers through my curled hair.

"Casey, I know your dad and I aren't home that much." She waves a hand toward her packed suitcases waiting by the garage door. "But I just want you to know that you can talk to us. You can tell me anything, and I will never hate you. I might get mad every once in awhile, but I would never love you any less. And the same goes for your father. Family comes first. And even if that means skipping out on fashion week, I would do it. Because you are my baby, and when my baby needs me, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

I smile,"Anything?"

She smiles, her gorgeous caramel eyes dancing in the sunlight,"Okay then, I see how this is. How about most anything? Is that good?"

"Yeah, I guess," I wink.

We hug, though it takes me a second to figure out a non-awkward position with my bulky brace.

My phone rings, and I look over my shoulder without breaking the hug.

"Marcus the A-Hole" pops up on the caller ID.

I quickly grab my phone and decline the call before my mother could see.

"Who was it?" She asks, pulling away from our hug.

I shrug nonchalantly, "Just some unavailable number, no biggie."

"Oh, okay." She sighs.

The phone rings again. I decline. Unfortunately my mother sees the caller ID.

"I know you two broke up, but you could have given him a meaner caller ID. Once I put my ex-boyfriend as Satan's Sperm Donor! Ooh! That could make a great article for my magazine! I'll be right back!"
I half heartedly laugh, and wait until she leaves to answer the call.

I double check that she's gone before I exit the room and head out into our garden.

"What do you want?" I growl.

"Casey, I'm so sorry for last night. Did you, um...?" His voice trails off.

"If you are asking if I told the police, then no. I said nothing, now please just-" I start, but before I finish he has already hung up.

This week is just getting weirder and weirder.

....................

So someone just asked me if a dislocated wrist was a real injury. Let me clarify that it IS A REAL INJURY.  I did not make it up. No, I don't know anyone who has dislocated their wrist. No, I am not sure of the correct treatment. No, I am mot a doctor :)

Xoxo,

Sydney