Falling For Mr. Perfect (Daily Updates)

15 Gasoline On My Fire

"GASOLINE ON MY FIRE"

When my dad said we had to discuss things as a family, I wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. But the next day, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a small, stiff smile on her face.

We sat there in silence. Me picking at my nail polish, my dad staring into his coffee cup, my mom readjusting the salt and pepper shakers at the center of the table for the third time. It'd been ten minutes and neither of us had said anything.

My dad sat up straighter, glancing between us. "Okay. I think we should start with what happened the other week."

My mom and I shared a look. I didn't plan on saying anything. She'd just throw it back in my face and accuse me of making horrible choices.

When it was clear neither of us were going to speak, my dad sighed. "Someone say something. We have to get everything out in the open."

He definitely regretted his words as my mom and I started talking over each other. She skipped several details to say I accused her of killing Sabrina. I reminded her that she tried to use Sabrina's death as a scare tactic. We were so desperate to get our points across that neither if us heard Dad until he slammed his hands on the table.

We immediately shut up.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh as he rubbed his temples. "Now, Abby, why did you think it was appropriate to take Faye to the cemetery?"

"Because she needed to see where her choices were going to land her," my mom said bluntly.

"Why that day?" I asked. "I'd been home for days. You could've driven me out there whenever you wanted. But you specifically took me on a day I asked to go see Peter."

Her face blanked, taken aback by my question. "What does Peter have to anything?"

"Were you jealous?" I continued. "Were you upset that I could be rude and sarcastic and still get a boy's attention?"

"Faye," my dad warned. I ignored him. I wanted to know how much truth there was to what my grandma said the other day.

"Is that the real reason you hated Sabrina? Why you hate me? Because we didn't bend over backwards for anyone? Because we weren't as insecure as you?"

"Faye, that's enough," my dad tried again.

But I was done. The look on my mom's face--her mouth pinched, eyes narrowed with resentment--told me I was right.

Pushing away from the table, I turned to my dad. "If you want her to move back in, that's your choice. But I'm not making myself smaller so she feels more comfortable."

With that, I stood and went up to my room. Freckles followed me up. I pet her while looking through my phone. I checked my email a million times a day looking for an email from Bea Lopez. Did I miss my shot by taking too long to respond?

I should've answered her email sooner. It probably came off as unprofessional and unserious and flakey. Still, I refreshed my email as I ran my hand over Freckles fur.

On my fifth round of refreshing, I got a message from Peter. Freckles whined when I stopped petting her.

Are you at home?

Yeah, I replied.

Can I come over?, he sent back.

My parent's voice rose from downstairs. I didn't know what they were arguing about exactly and I didn't care to know. I couldn't put anymore energy into my mom. If Peter showed up, everything would've been awkward.