Hate You, Love You. | Jenlisa

119

"I–"

"We–"

We both chuckle as the smell of brewed coffee and confectioneries hit our faces. There are many ways this conversation can go, worst case scenario, the ship sinks before it has the chance to sail.

Lisa is seated across from me on the dark leather chair, the mahogany table putting a little bit of distance between us. Lisa is nervous, I can tell. She's playing with her hands, her eyes are twitching and she keeps tapping her feet.

"You first," I answer as I take a sip of my soy latter. "It's only fair."

She nods. "Alright. My mom said she talked to you."

I also nod. "She did." And spilled her guts out while crying. Chitthip Manoban, at least from the pictures I've seen, always looks so prim, proper and incapable shedding a single tear. All humans cry, but I just never expected the waterworks from her.

"She told me everything that happened with your dad."

Boom. There it is. I knew my assumption was correct.

"You want me to be honest?" She asks.

"Yes."

"I never expected it. It's not everyday you wake up and your mom confesses that she dated your girl's dad many years ago," she chuckles bitterly. "I don't know, and this is probably me just ranting but I'm sorry for whatever harm she directly or indirectly caused."

"You don't need to apologize," I whisper softly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know I didn't, but someone in my family clearly did hurt you and it hurts me." She stretches her right hand from across the table and interlocks it with mine. "You told me about your dad and how he left years ago."

I smile a little. "You remember."

"I remember everything when it comes to you."

Heat spreads across my cheeks. "My mom directly caused that and it's no small matter. I love her, but in the past, before she married Marco, she wasn't always known for making the wisest decisions."

She continues. "She had me at 17 and life wasn't always easy for us. I didn't grow up living in mansions, drinking sparkling water and driving a Veyron. She got knocked up in high school by some jerk she thought she loved–I haven't met the guy till date."

"When my grandparents found out that she was pregnant with me, they threw her out. They were devout Christians or some shit like that and they said she had 'profaned God's name' by getting pregnant out of wedlock. They pushed her out into the world before she was even ready."

"That's horrible."

"It was," she agrees. "But we survived. After she gave birth to me, I remember we moved around a lot. We lived in trailers, motels, even a caravan at one point, all over town. That's why I didn't start school early. I wouldn't say I had a stable childhood. She was all alone raising a daughter at a young age."

My gaze falls to her face and I see a hooded expression cloud her. Her childhood was different yet similar to mine. For the first half of my childhood, I was happy, but she wasn't. Shit hit the fan before she was even born and it's saddening to even imagine.

"Mom worked odd jobs like cleaning, waitressing, construction, all in a bid to put food on the table because she dropped out of high school. There weren't a lot of options out there and all the big companies with fat salaries weren't going to hire a high school drop out."

I nod slowly, encouraging her to continue. In situations like this, when Lisa is pouring out her heart to me, I figured that it's best to talk less and listen more.