LUNA
As I satat my dining room table, my laptop open among the bills and past due notices scattered all around it, panic clutched at my chest, sinking its icy claws deeper and deeper into my heart. The high I’d been riding since that night with my stranger nearly a month ago had just died a tragic and painful death when I tried to be a grown-up and sit down to work on my finances.
Turns out, things were even worse than I’d originally thought. The money I was making at the bar wasn’t nearly enough to cover my standard cost of living, even with the few freelance web design jobs I’d been lucky enough to pull in. I’d barely managed to swing my mortgage payment this month, I was a month behind on the electric bill, and the only reason the water was turned back on was because I’d taken every dollar in tips I’d made over the past week and paid down what I owed, putting me only two months behind instead of three.
As stupid as it was—and it had to have been the stupidest thing I’d ever done—I’d been burying my head in the sand for way too long now, choosing to ignore my problems and pretend they didn’t exist rather than deal with them. Not my finest choice, I’d admit. Now denial was no longer an option. I was in a hole so deep I could barely see the light above me, illuminating my way out.
I stared at the big, bold, ugly number on the bottom of my computer screen, the one mocking me, revealing my failures, until my vision began to blur. I was quickly running out of options, and the very few I had left held the exact same appeal as making out with a rattlesnake.
But I was a grown-up, damn it, and I had to do what I had to do. This was my dream home, the only place I ever felt I truly belonged, and there was no way in hell I’d lose it.
Pulling in a calming breath, I looked around my own personal piece of heaven, my sanctuary. I’d been in love with the idyllic Cape Cod that sat on a tranquil piece of beach on the edge of town since the very first time I laid eyes on it. With its steep gabled dormers, navy blue shutters, and red front door against wood-shingled siding that had been whitewashed from years and years of sea breeze, it could have been plucked from the pages of one of the countless books I read as a child—the very pages I lost myself in regularly and kept company with, to keep from feeling so damn lonely—and been plopped down right here in my town. As much as I was in love with it from the outside, the inside was even more of a dream with rich, authentic crown molding, wide-plank wood floors, and huge windows overlooking the sea just beyond my backyard.
I knew the moment I saw it that I had to live there, I had to make it my forever home. It was where I needed to be, so when it came on the market, I knew it was meant to be. I barely gave a second look to the price. Mainly because the number was scary as hell, but also because I wasn’t going to let it dissuade me. I made an offer I could barely manage and scrawled my name on the paperwork with a flourish on closing day. Now I was at risk of having it taken from me.
I picked up my cellphone from the top of the glaring stack of bills, and scrolled to the very last number I wanted to call.
It took several rings for her to answer, so many I was starting to think I’d end up having to make this request to her voicemail, but at the last possible second, the call connected and my mother’s voice carried through the line.
“Luna?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Hi, Mom.”
She hesitated for a spell before finally saying, “Well this is a surprise,” her tone holding no small amount of suspicion. I was deviating from our usual pattern. How things usually worked between us was I didn’t bother reaching out because I knew trying to get even the smallest bit of my mother’s attention when she had a man in her life was pointless, and she only got in contact with me after she’d been dumped and needed taken care of until her next boyfriend came along.
“Yeah. So, um... how are you?” My lips pulled into a thin line at my pathetic attempt at small talk. With how awkward this felt, you’d think I was talking to a complete stranger or an uncomfortable blind date, not the woman who gave birth to me.
“Oh, you know,” she hedged. “Same old, same old. How are things with you, dear?”
There wasn’t going to be a better opening to say what I needed to say than this, whether I was ready for it or not, so I dove right in. “That’s kind of why I’m calling. Things are pretty bad, Mom.” It was the first time I’d admitted it out loud to anyone, and a painful lump formed in my throat at the admission. God, I felt like such a failure. That was probably the worst part of this whole mess.
“Oh no.” She pulled in a gasp like she was genuinely concerned, in spite of the fact we hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Are you sick?”
“No.” I cleared my throat of the knot of shame that had formed, making it difficult to breathe. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Okay... then what’s going on? You made it sound so dire.”
“Well, it kind of is, Mom. Things with my business... they haven’t been so great,” I confessed, my voice small and broken. “If something doesn’t change soon, I’m afraid I might lose my house.”
“Oh, honey, you know I’d offer you a place to stay if I could. It’s just that Dwight is kind of a private guy, and he’s not really big on having a bunch of people in his house.”
I bit back the sardonic laughter that wanted to burst forth. Of course, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that the mother of the year on the other end of the call would respond like that. In fact, I’d have been more surprised if dear old Dwight even knew Madeline Copeland had a daughter.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep the bitterness and resentment out of my voice as I said, “As much as I appreciate that heartfelt non-offer, that’s not what I’m calling to ask.” You’d have thought after twenty-nine years of this, it would have stopped hurting so much, but nope. Each interaction left me with a thousand papercuts on my heart that never seemed to heal all the way.
“Then I don’t understand—”
I cut her off, spitting the words out at a rapid-fire pace. “It would really help if you could start making payments on the money I’ve loaned you over the years. I’ve never pushed you on the matter, and I wouldn’t now if I had a choice, but, well, I really need it.”
Ten seconds of complete silence followed. I knew because I’d counted. And I also knew in the pit of my stomach that whatever was going to accompany those seconds wasn’t going to be good. “Look, Luna, I wish I could help you, honestly, but I can’t afford to give you any money. Dwight and I are practically living paycheck to paycheck as it is.”
“But I thought you were doing better. Didn’t you have a job lined up at that salon once you finished cosmetology school?” Cosmetology school that I paid for? I thought with a heaping scoop of resentment.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” There was no way whatever came after that was going to be good.
“Mom, what did you do?” I asked with exasperation.
“Dwight thought the money would be put to better use if we invested in his friend’s business, and I agreed. It was my money, after all. You gaveit to me to do with as I wanted, and I wanted to invest it.”