Hard to Resist (11 page)

My mother doesn’t understand that dreams are what keep us alive. If my father had given up, he wouldn’t be where he is now. I guess he’s where I get my boost and my
go-getter
mentality from.

But I guess I could cut my mother some slack. My grandmother is a complete bitch to her. My grandmother pretty much planned my mom’s life out before she was even born. My grandma wanted her to go to a certain high school, a certain college, and she wanted her to obtain a degree in Nursing. My mom did it, too. She went along with her commands but now she regrets it.

I know deep down that my mother wanted to be a fashion designer. My mom used to dress me up every morning before school and most times I was shocked because the outfits that she would buy or pick out for me turned out to be great ones. Every outfit that she’d chosen was complimented on by everyone. My mom has a good eye for fashion but, of course, no one will ever know that because she keeps her dreams hidden.

I sit up and press the answer button on my phone. “Hello,” I croak.

“Natalie, sweetie!” she chimes through the phone. I pull the phone away from my ear to prevent my ear buds from bursting. “I heard from your father that things are going okay . . . although I wish that you would have told me yourself.”

“I wanted to but Dad said you were still working late and I didn’t want to bother.”

“Oh.” She pauses and her silence reminds me that I always did hate when she worked late or overtime. When I really needed my mother the most, she would never be around. On graduation night when I came in with ruined makeup and puffy eyes, I had to be held in my father’s arms instead of hers. I would have preferred my mother’s arms because she would have understood more about my situation, considering that she was hurt once before, too.

My mom knew everything that went on between Bryson and I. She even knew that we were having sex. She accepted him. My father was furious on the night that he’d cheated on me. He wanted to go find Bryson and drag him out of the party so bad but I kept him grounded. My father’s large hands would have strangled Bryson to death.

“Well is everything alright down there now? Have you met any new guys?” she asks, aiming to be friendly and hip.

I groan slightly. “No, Mom.”

“What about school? Have you signed up for any classes?”

“Mom, no. I will soon.”

I knew this was coming. She’s going to badger me about school. “Sweetie, stooping down to the level of Community College is already too low for you. At least get out there and sign up. I think that you deserve more. If you want, I can look online at some two-year colleges that may still be accepting applications. It’s never too late, Natty.”

“Mom, there’s nothing wrong with Community Colleges. Stop trying to make it sound all bad. You and Dad are already tight on money because of the divorce. I don’t want my funds to get in the way.”

The line is silent and I hear my mom swallow before speaking again. “He told you, huh?”

“Yes he told me. He really didn’t have to, though. I’m not blind. I could see the divorce coming from a mile away.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t understand it,” I mutter as I pull at a loose string that is attached to my sheets.

“What is there not to understand, honey? Your father and I clash all of the time. We bump heads way too many times during the day than I can count. I’m tired of bickering and arguing. Your father is too peaceful and too humble to ever want to finish an argument with me. When he leaves them floating around in the air, the tension just builds up between us.”

“Dad drops the arguments because he loves you, Mom. He doesn’t like to hurt you. You wouldn’t understand that because you feel like you’re always right,” I snap as my eyes roll slightly.

“I do not!” she snaps back.

“You don’t realize it, but you do, Mom.” I sigh as I push my hair back. “Look, I really want you and Dad to work this out. Dad texts me all of the time asking for advice but I don’t know what to tell him. He wants to work this out. Please, just think about this more before actually going through with it. You know he would die if it means that you will be happy.”

My mom remains quiet for a few unbearable moments. “Mom?” I call after the unbearable moments become awkward. I hear a sniffle and my chest tightens. “Mom. Don’t cry. Please.” I hate to hear my mother cry. Every night when I lived with them, I would hear her in the bathroom late at night letting out tears. She probably thought I didn’t hear her but I did. She was crying because her relationship was going downhill. The bathroom was across the hall from my room. When she cries, I feel the urge to cry as well.

“Natalie, I love Frank. He’s my world. I’m just afraid that I may hurt him.”

“The only thing that can hurt him is your pride. Your pride is always in the way. Just let it go and lose a battle for once. I swear it will make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” she breathes then sniffles again. “Maybe that’s true.” A beeping noise rings on her end and muffles whoosh around in my ear. “Well, I have to get back to work. I just wanted to call and check up on you.”

“Okay,” I breathe. I don’t want this to end. Although my mom can be confusing and a bit pushy, I still love talking to her and nothing felt better at the moment than hearing her voice. I’m surprised she didn’t bring Bryson up but I know that’s a subject that she won’t touch just for a while. She knows how much I used to love him and how much effort I used to put into my relationship with him.

“I love you, Natty. I’ll call you as soon as I’m off tonight. I promise.”

“Okay, Mom. I love you, too. Have a good day at work.”

“I’ll try,” she groans. I press my lips before ending the call. Drawing my legs against my chest, I rest my forehead against my knee. My life is truly falling apart. First it was Bryson and now it’s this divorce crap with my parents. I seriously don’t know what I will do if they end up leaving one another.

My father has had eyes for my mother for ages. He agrees that she can be a bit complicating but he loves her entirely. He loves her more than he loves fixing cars. My mom should know that but I don’t know what is causing her to think that he’s given up. My father isn’t a quitter. He will do everything that he can to prove his love to her. He’ll fight for her like he has nothing to live for.

I’ve wanted a guy like my dad. I’ve wanted someone with dreams, goals, and a huge heart. But it seems like every guy that I meet is the complete opposite of what he is. My father is far from selfish but most guys that I know are. Maybe it’s not meant for me to be with anyone just yet.

Pushing my sheets and blankets away, I step down on the soft carpet and decide to start my day. I make my way toward my suitcase and pull out a pair of crisp skinny jeans, a white tank top, and a pair of black Chuck Taylor’s. I head for the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and then pull my hair up into a loose bun. I refuse to put on any makeup. I don’t want to appeal to anyone at the moment but myself.

I guess I could do something with myself by heading to the nearest community college and signing up for classes. I need to do something that will keep my mind guarded from Nolan and especially Bryson. I put my clothes on quickly, grab my keys, and then head out. Harper is at work which I’m glad for because I’m sure that she would be begging me to go out with her like always.

As the door clicks shut behind me, I dash down the stairs to get to my car.

Chapter Twelve

I had to use the GPS that my father had given me to find Miami-Dade Community College. To my surprise, it wasn’t too far away from Harper’s condo. As soon as I step out of my car, my shirt sticks against me. It’s blazing today and for that I had to have my air conditioning on full blast. The air is uncomfortably humid and sticky but I’m hoping that will pass as I get into the building.

As I step inside, I am fooled completely. It’s hotter inside than it is out there. I press the back of my hand against my forehead and wipe the beads of sweat away quickly. A few people pass by in just shorts and tanks and I’m glad I have a tank on but I would feel much better in shorts than jeans.

Flicking my hand as I make my way down the hall, I follow the signs that lead me to the admissions office. I spot the line leading to it and groan. There has to be over twenty-five people ahead of me. All of them look flushed and some are sweating heavily as they fan themselves with a few papers.

“Next,” a woman calls from the front desk with the blandest voice I have ever heard. The boy in front scuffles to her desk and I’m relieved that the line is actually moving. I stand behind a girl with short brown hair that is sticking to her forehead and the nape of her neck from sweat. She is softly tanned and petite in her light blue shorts and a pink camisole.

“I take it that you haven’t been here during the registration periods before,” she says, observing my jeans with a soft smile.

I shake my head as I look down with her. “Yeah. First time here,” I sigh.

“Don’t worry. The lines tend to move fast. When it’s that hot outside, the administrators will do everything in their power to get us out of here as fast as they can. During the summer, they don’t turn the air on.”

“Well I’m glad that the lines move quickly. I don’t want it to seem like I’ve just been swimming by the time I get back home.”

The girl laughs softly at my lame joke. “I’m Brittany Lucas. I’ve just moved here a year ago so I can see how you feel.” She reaches a kind hand to me and I take it.

“Natalie Carmichael,” I say as I give her hand a slight shake.

“So what are signing up for?”

“Um . . . I guess anything that deals with writing or reading,” I shrug.

“Ohhh,” Brittany says, extending the word. “You’re a writer. You kind of seem like one now that you’ve mentioned it. Most people that want to be writers are usually reserved. I’m a big reader.” She pauses while biting on her lip and studying her hands. “This may seem pushy, but if you have anything that you’d like to share with someone one day, I’d love to read whatever you have!”

“Really?” My heart flutters ecstatically, surprised by Brittany’s remark. She doesn’t seem like much of a reader but she does seem a bit intellectual.

“Yeah!” she nods. “I’d be honored. I’ve read plenty of books over this summer. Me and a friend are actually having a contest to see how many books we can read before the summer ends and classes start. We started this summer and so far mine is sixty-seven. Not too bad, right?”

“Not at all,” I say then press my lips with a nod. “But to be honest, I don’t write books. I just write poems.”

Brittany’s shrill gasp causes the entire line to turn around and look in our direction. Even the women at the desks are looking our way. “Really?” she squeals. “That’s even better! I love poem writers. Believe it or not, my boyfriend and I go to Open Mic sessions every Thursday and Saturday. Most people that show up are poem writers, singers, or independent bands. You should definitely go one day. They accept new speakers all of the time. Plus it’s a great way to get started.”

“Oh wow,” I breathe. “It would be kind of cool to read my poems out loud—but I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. What is the place called?”

“Um . . .” She thinks on it before her fingers snap. “Haven—yeah that’s what it’s called. I remember because it’s close to the word
heaven
. I go there so much that I forget the name of it.” She grins and I do the same. “You should definitely go tomorrow night to experience how it is. If you want, we can hang out and read some of your poems. It would be fun.”

“Wow, yeah. That sounds unbelievably amazing. I’d love that.”

“Great!” she says then reaches to pull her phone out of her back pocket. “Just put your number in here and I can give you directions later on.” She smiles as she hands me her phone. I take it immediately and pound my number into her contact list.

“Next,” the bland voice calls again. I look up quickly just as I am handing Brittany her phone back. I hadn’t even realized that the line had died down or that we were now in front.

“Well I gotta run but it was nice meeting you, Natalie. I hope you get the classes that you crave for!” She tosses a wave then rushes for the heavy-set woman behind the desk.

I smile as I stand in front of the line with a heart that is beating gleefully. See, this is all that I needed. An escape. I just needed something to occupy my time and I’ve found it. It’s a good thing that I took my mom’s advice for once because now I have something to do tomorrow night besides sit at home and stuff my face with butter-pecan ice-cream and watch movies. Lord only knows that I don’t need to fatten myself up again.