The Odds in Our Favor (WLW)

FIFTEEN

TW: This chapter contains emotional abuse, homophobia, and depictions of physical abuse

♥ Lucille ♥

I'm preparing an appetizer platter of crackers and cheese. It was always my mother's go-to when it came to get-togethers, because she can't cook. And neither can I. 

Kiara is lifting up her phone every 5 seconds to see if her mother has texted that she's here yet. I still don't get why Kiara is letting this happen at all. I brought myself to Google last night, asking why someone would be willing to/want to see their abusive parent. I had to type it a few different ways to get an actual answer, but the answer I found made me sad.

According to Law.com, it could be attachment issues. According to Reddit, "There is a mindset that parents are untouchable or on a pedestal, exempt from consequences and NEVER to be criticized no matter how shitty their behavior." which I suppose could apply. The other answer I found was the hope for something different. Which seems to be what she's consistently describing. 

She's said that thing's might be fine this time. Tame, at least. Only time will tell how it'll really go, but my gut feeling is definitely saying otherwise. 

"You know, she can't actually enter the dorm building without someone letting her in. We could just hide in here until she leaves." I suggest, half joking. To be completely honest, I don't want to have to deal with or see her mother. I don't want to be here when whatever goes down, goes down. But I do want to be here for Kiara. 

"That's like the third time you've said that." She looks up from her phone, over at me. "You... You don't actually need to be here. You know that, right? Even Deven isn't fully expecting to be entirely committed. I'm not gonna be mad if you leave."

"No. I want to be your emotional and moral support." I reassure her. 

She's about to say something else, when her phone pings. She checks the message. "It's time..." She mutters, standing from the dining table—which we have added an additional two chairs to so everyone can fit. 

She slips on her high-top Converse shoes, taking extra time to tie them. Stalling, it seems. 

"Want me to go down with you?" I ask, putting the boxes of crackers away in their respective cabinet.

Kiara thinks for a moment. "Maybe..."

I nod, slipping on my pair of white Crocs. Then we head downstairs. We don't take the elevator. Kiara said she had a bad experience, which, ironically, involved her dad. 

I can see her parents through the large glass pane on the door. I trail behind Kiara as she opens it for them. 

It is very tense, I notice. Silence for a good three seconds. No literally breathtaking hugs or a bombardment of questions. Definitely a reality check for me.

"Uh, come in." Kiara steps out of the door way, and her parents enter. Her mother scans the foyer with her eyes, nodding slightly, then she looks at me. 

She has straight black hair, like Kiara, though she's pale. She's wearing a black dress with a coat. 

"Oh, this is my roommate, Lucille." Kiara introduces me.

"Right." Her mother says with no distinct emotion, "I'm assuming you two will force me to take the stairs?" She gestures to Kiara and her dad. 

When neither of them answer, her mom sighs, approaching the staircase. We all go too. This is so awkward.