Just as I Begin to Fade

Twenty. Confusion

The next week would come along rather quickly and before they knew it, Lindsey would be coming over for dinner again.

Gwen was dressed up, more so than her causal attire and she came into the living room to sit and watch TV as she waited for the moments to pass by faster.

"Where are you going?" slightly snotty, did her mother ask.

"Out," she arched a brow.

"Not tonight, you aren't. Lindsey's coming and you have to be here... Set the table for me."

"I'll set the table and serve, but after that I'm leaving. You haven't said a word to me this whole week, and all of the sudden we're supposed to be happy? I don't think so. Besides, I don't want to embarrass you anymore," she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, would you give it a rest?" Stevie asked.

"No, I won't. I didn't do anything last week. I'd rather go out and let you enjoy your little date. That's what you wanted anyway? I bet last week, you would have rathered me away or out. You wanted all the attention... You don't care about our relationship."

"I do."

"Well, it didn't seem like it to me. Even now..." she gestured. "I specifically asked you not to date Lindsey... Look at you," she looked her up and down; the way she dressed and the way she had her makeup done. "Especially not with how you've been avoiding me all week. I'm not gonna try, if you're not," she then reached into her bag for a cigarette.

"Don't smoke that in here, damn it," her mother complained. "I just cleaned everything and I washed my hair, I don't want it to smell."

She rolled her eyes and she went outside in order to sit on the porch. There, not only did she wait for Derek, but she waited for Lindsey.

And soon enough, Lindsey pulled up, along the curb and he got out, venturing over to her. "You smoke?" he wondered.

"Not often, but uh... You'd understand if you had my life," she dropped her head into her hand. She then swiped her hair back and she sighed.

"What's going on?" he took a seat next to her. He then took the cigarette from between her fingers and he threw it to the ground, then stepping on it. "Not a good way to cope."

"Only vice, thank you very much," she cocked a brow at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked once more.

"She's mad at me," she shrugged.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do a God damn thing," she explained. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with her, but she hadn't talked to me all week. Not since you left Friday night."

"I hope it has nothing to do with me..." he told her, sort of questioning.

"It has everything to do with you. She doesn't like that she doesn't have your full attention, if you know what I mean. And she does not like that I tell you everything."

"Your mother has a problem with trust, after your father, is what I imagine. Maybe she doesn't want you to trust me because she's afraid I will hurt you. Which will not happen, just so we are clear," he was sure to add.

"Please, don't justify the way she treats me. She's done this for as long as I can remember... I doubted myself since middle school because she didn't like the way I did things or the way I dressed. She told me all the time, to my face that she hated any aspect of me that was like my dad. She would say things and I would digress because I was afraid of what people would think of me. It's not like I have very many friends anyway... I might be confident now, but it took a lot of her solid blows to get comfortable with being uncomfortable."