Stranger Arms

8:02 PM

Tess is ready to pitch her iPhone across the room. "Mom, I'm warning you. If I show up and he's there, I'm walking out."

Her mother's voice, blaring from the smartphone, is nothing short of battery acid. "Quit acting like a child. Now, you're coming home for Christmas and you're staying whether Troy's there or not. Do you understand me?"

Tears pool in Tess' eyes. She would trade everything she owns to have her mother on her side for once. How she wishes she was more like the mothers her friends have, the type who embrace their maternal roles with gusto. But alas, her mother is in the category between trophy wife and career woman.

"You knew going in who Troy's father was. So unless you want an unemployed stepfather, you're going to be nice to Troy and his father if and when you see them."

If there is a worse form of betrayal than this, Tess knows nothing about it. Her tortured heart begs, making every word a wince. "Mom, please. I'll do anything, just don't make me see him. Please."

Her mother absorbs the words for a moment, then sighs. "Look, Tess, honey, I have to go. You be good, okay?"

"But, mo—"

She hears three gentle beeps, letting her know that the call is disconnected.

Tess's heart sinks. She drops her phone and buries her face in her hands.

Perhaps second to wanting a different mother, Tess wants a different ex-boyfriend.

Troy, son of her stepfather's partner, wasn't the best at keeping his newly-acquired bachelorhood under wraps.

Tess knows better than to stalk him on social media, but her thumbs always find their way to his photos, the ones of him shirtless with three different women, destroying his vital organs with alcohol, and inadvertently, her heart in the process.

She looks at her phone. The screen is black, smudged with thumb grease and tears. To swipe the device on is to pull the trigger, and she knows it.

She reaches for it, but stops. Don't, Tess. You can do this. Just don't.

She needs to be away from that death machine. She needs to get out of the house. Every moment in that studio apartment paid for by her sellout parents is making her sick.

Tess grabs her house keys and clutch and steps out of her stuffy living quarters, wearing yoga pants, her university hoodie, and a pair of Nike sneakers, the ones she usually only uses to play intramural tennis. It's not the sexiest outfit she owns, so it's perfect. The last thing she wants is attention from all the wrong men. Or the right men.

As she walks the two blocks to the convenience store, she wonders if depending on her parents for her finances is still a good idea. It was at first. Not worrying about money allows her to focus on her studies without concern for her next meal.

But after a while, worries about money were replaced with worries about Troy. She would rather have money problems.

The fluorescent lights of the store welcome her in the darkness.

Tess isn't hungry, but she makes mental notes of all the things she wants. Then, she forgets all about it. Roaming through the aisles and grabbing things at random seems like a better idea. It was all going to be put on stepdaddy's credit card, anyway.

The fat, scruffy cashier doesn't bother saying hello as she comes in.

Normally, Tess would care. Tonight, it's a sign that she looks unattractive enough to be ignored.