Page 8 of Strange Love

My eyebrows furrow in concern, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s great. I have to go now, Sweetheart. See you soon!” And with that, she hangs up.

I can’t help but wonder what she wants to tell me later tonight. My mind starts racing with possibilities as I finish making another sandwich and retreat to my bedroom, waiting for her to get home.

A couple of hours later, the loud creak of the front door jars me awake. I groan, knowing I need to fix it with some WD40. Through the thin walls, I can hear my mom’s voice and the deep chuckle of a man’s voice. She calls my name, and I scramble out of bed.

Mom has gone out several times with this guy who frequents the restaurant, but I have yet to meet him. Honestly, I don’t care to. Most guys don’t stick around once they learn about Maggie’s teenage son and her overwhelming debt.

As I open my door, my mom is about to knock on it, and it startles her when she sees me. She laughs as she covers her heart with her hand.

“Corey, come into the living room. There’s someone I want you to meet,” she says with a smile.

Sitting on the couch is a man observing our small mobile home. Yep, it’s a real shithole, Dude. Take it all in. He stands up to greet me and extends his arm for a handshake. He’s not much taller than me, thin, with an unnatural tan for this time of year and blindingly white teeth. His light brown hair is neatly styled tightly against his head, and his eyes are fixed on mine as we shake hands firmly. I can’t help but wonder if he goes to one of those indoor tanning places, and I have to hold back a laugh.

“Hi, Corey, I’m Alan,” he says, grinning wider than before.

“Nice to meet you,” I reply politely because my mom would be upset if I were anything other than cordial to this stranger in our home.

“Let’s all sit down,” my mom interjects beside us. They both sit on the couch while I opt for the small rocking chair opposite them, leaning forward and resting my forearms on my legs.

“So, I have some exciting news,” my mom announces with a smile. My eyebrows raise in anticipation, but I remain quiet.

“Alan and I have been dating for some time now,” she reveals, which is news to me, “and he just proposed!” She blurts out eagerly.

My jaw falls open in shock and my eyes widen as her words sink in. I glance from her to him, smiling like they’ve won the stupid lottery, but it doesn’t feel that way. As I look at the smiles painted on their faces, I can smell the faint scent of Alan’s expensive cologne, mixed with the stale cigarette smoke that clings to him and makes me nauseous.

My mom and Alan stand up, her hand resting on his chest as if trying to keep him at arm’s length for my benefit. I stand in return, squaring off with them.

“So you’re going to marry this guy without even talking to me?” I manage to say through gritted teeth, my fists clenching at my sides.

Alan steps back further at my hostility but continues to observe our conversation in silence.

My mom steps closer and lowers her voice to a near whisper.

“Corey, Alan is a good man. He owns a car dealership and can provide for us,” she pleads, her voice tinged with desperation.

I scoff and roll my eyes, “We don’t need some rich car salesman to take care of us. That’s been my job since Dad left.”

“Come on, you’re a kid,” Alan interjects, causing me to bristle even more.

But my mom is unfazed by my outburst.

“We can leave this rundown trailer and start living a better life. I can’t keep working at that restaurant forever. And what about your dreams? You want to keep playing hockey and maybe attend college, right?”

I ignore her attempts at reason.

“I’m fine with how things are now. This is my home, where all my friends are,” I argue back, feeling frustrated and trapped.

Mom’s expression turns stern. I bite my tongue to avoid saying something hurtful, but my hands remain clenched at my sides.

“You’re fine with living in this dump? Eating leftovers from the restaurant every night? Using old hockey gear donated by kids who get new things every year?” My mom continues to try to convince me.

“Yes!” I shout, unable to contain my anger any longer. “This is where I belong. We don’t need some stranger coming into our lives and trying to change everything.”

My mom takes a deep breath and steps closer to me, her heels sinking into the dingy, orange-carpeted floor. She gazes up at me with tear-filled eyes, her hands trembling as she reaches for my shoulders. Her petite frame shakes against my larger one.

“Corey,” she pleads, “I know this is hard for you, but please trust me. He loves me, I love him, and we all finally have a chance at a better life. Don’t you want that for us?”