31 of 62: Study Group
I didn’t end up eating lunch with Lily and her friends Thursday after all, but Meredith called her Wednesday evening and put her on speakerphone for us to talk about stuff, and she said I could use the guest bedroom to have a private conversation with my mom. I ate with Jada and her queer friends in the courtyard Thursday, and after school, Sophia went to work and Meredith and I went to Lily’s house. It was actually in my old neighborhood, just a few streets over from Mom and Dad’s house, which made me feel a little weird, but the layout and decor of the house was different enough to not trigger any particular memories. It was about the same size as our house: bigger than the Ramseys’ house, but with slightly bigger rooms rather than more rooms. But the Bannisters only had two kids, and their older daughter was away at college.
Lily’s mom, who looked like she was in her early twenties, like Meredith’s parents, greeted us at the door and told us Lily and the others were in her room. Meredith knew the way, and soon we joined Lily, Jada, and a girl I hadn’t met before, who Lily introduced as Emilia.
After Lily asked me what classes I was taking, which subjects I was good at and which I needed help with, we split into groups of two and three to study different subjects, then regrouped about an hour later to study others, and then after a while we just hung out and chatted about whatever. It was fun, and the splitting into smaller groups helped keep my anxiety from flaring up, but I didn’t feel like I was connecting to Lily and Emilia like I had to Carmen and Serena, or Jada’s queer friend group. At 6:05, the alarm on my phone went off, and I excused myself.
“I’ll show you the guest room,” Lily said, and led me down the hall to an immaculate bedroom decorated in neutral colors with minimal bric-a-brac on a couple of glass shelves. I sat down gingerly on the bed, not wanting to rumple it, and called Mom.
She didn’t answer right away, and I got a little worried, then figured she was probably driving and couldn’t answer the phone. I was about to try again a few minutes later when she rang me.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Lauren. I was driving when you called just now.”
“I figured. How are you doing?”
“I’m getting by. I looked up some of the things you talked about Tuesday evening, and I tried talking with your father about it last night, but... he insists you have to change back if you want to come home.”
“Thank you for trying. Please take care of yourself.”
“So... you were telling me about how you met Tim at the mall on the day you left. Do you mind telling me more about that?”
“Sure,” I said. “But do you mind if I ask a couple of other things first?”
“What is it?”
“With the way Dad is being, I can’t move back in any time soon. Would it be okay if I came over sometime after you get off work and before Dad comes home, and get a few things out of my room? Or could I ask you to pack up a few things and bring them to the Ramseys’ house, or bring them to work and let me come by to get them when Meredith or Sophia are giving me a ride home from school?”
“...Yes, that would be fine.” She sounded hesitant, and I wondered if she was reluctant to let me get my stuff, or bring it to me, because it would mean admitting that I’d moved out for good. But she wasn’t so selfish as to refuse. So we talked for a couple of minutes about the books, school supplies, and other things I wanted from my room, and she said, “That sounds like enough that I would rather you came over here to get it. Probably with Justin or Caleb to help carry the boxes. I’ll try to pack it up before you get here. Your father won’t notice, since the door to your room is usually closed.”
“Okay, thanks. Caleb’s off at college, but I expect I can get someone to help.”
“Oh, right, of course. About the day... I think we should leave that up in the air for now. Several days a month, your father has to work late, and he always calls or texts me when he’s swamped with work and can’t get away in time. I’ll call you next time that happens, so you and whoever helps you will have plenty of time to haul the boxes out and still have a good visit.”
“Thanks, Mom. The other thing I wanted to ask about was my bank account. I was only able to take $250 with me because of the ATM withdrawal limit, and then I didn’t want to touch it again, because, well... My friends I was staying with were generous, and I didn’t need to spend much, so I still have a fair amount of that left, but I’d like to get the rest of the money out of my savings. When I tried to use my debit card, the bank said the account had been closed.”
“Oh. Your father does most of the financial stuff; I don’t know what happened. He probably figured there wasn’t enough in the account to keep it from getting gobbled up by fees, so he moved it into one of our other accounts.”
Since I was a minor when I got the account, my dad’s name was on it too. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that meant Dad could legally do whatever he wanted with the money. “Yeah, I figured. Could you ask Dad about it, sometime when he’s in a good mood?”
“Yes, of course.”
With that behind us, I finished telling her about that encounter with Tim at the mall and how I’d decided to run away. I heard some rattling in the background on her end as I spoke; I figured she was fixing supper or doing the dishes.
“I’m not going to say much about where I went after I left my car in Greensboro,” I said. “Or who I stayed with. They were good people who treated me more than fairly, and I managed to not only keep up with my studies but get ahead. I’m doing well in my classes at Eastern Mynatt and I’m planning to live with the Ramseys and work until I’ve re-established North Carolina residency and can go to college at local tuition rates. Or,” I added to give her some hope, “if Dad comes around, I could move back home until I start college.”
“I’ll keep trying, sweetie. I’m so proud of you still doing well in school after so long away. How — Oh, I’d better let you go. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mom. I love you.” But she’d already hung up. Probably Dad was walking in and she didn’t want him to overhear even the tail end of our conversation.