Chapter 20 – Plans

Vamped

Previously, Misty goes to Mark’s house and spends more time with his friends. They give her more hard truths about her situation with Arabelle and the unlikeliness of Misty getting any revenge. Mark implores Misty to forget about her and live life for herself.

Tuesday

Mark's words permeate my dreams that night. I saw visions of past mistakes, and how things could have been different if I'd just decided to focus inward years ago. In the end, I was glad we moved, because it led me to Mark. But I felt guilty for thinking that when I remembered the lives I destroyed and all the people I hurt to get here. I had no idea how to atone for all I'd done, and I honestly couldn't imagine trying until I had washed away all the other turmoil I was feeling from my life.

I watched from above as I sat in a garden bed with his dad, who helped me pick tomatoes off the vine and dig carrots from the ground. The scene smeared until the colors reformed in the woods, where Mark and I lounged against the base of a tree as I plucked berries from a bush and fed them to Henrietta and me. We talked of plans and friends, his arm resting around my shoulders as I leaned my head against his.

I awoke mournfully, as if grieving for these moments and this life I didn't have. I wondered about all the times Mark had with a father who guided and encouraged him, and I hated him for having that life I didn't.

But the hatred was brief and was replaced by more sadness. Mom was caring and almost always thought the best of me. But even before we were fleeing from my choices, we were on the run from the consequences of hers. The only way she could bring herself to rid us of my father was in the same way I copied the rest of my childhood. How was I supposed to know anything else when she taught me to take the abuse until I couldn't stand it and lashed out horribly? As much as she tried to protect me, she wouldn't stand up for me when he'd go off. He's rant and rave about what a disaster I was, a birth defect. He was promised a sexy femme fatale for a daughter, and instead got a mutt who needed twice the feeding and did nothing for the eyes.

She never said a word. And she doesn't now, when Sammy gets handsy and Janet makes excuses. I'm just supposed to deal with it all. Until I can't anymore.

How could she let this happen? She couldn't seriously believe that Sammy, some shit-for-brains who won't take no for an answer, would be any better to me than the guy who isolated and berated her until she gave whatever he demanded. Sammy doesn't respect me. He doesn't even like me. He just wants something from me.

A new rage entered my bones, and it took everything I had in me not to sprint downstairs where Mom was having her morning drink and try to tear her neck off. I splayed out my fingers and counted to ten, then started my day. I showered and dressed myself, trying not to tug on my hair too hard while I braided it. I walked slowly down the stairs and imagined myself sitting down calmly and eating whatever Mom put in front of me without saying anything to her. I walked around the corner to the kitchen, and Mom looked up, smiling. Then she frowned.

“Misty, honey, what's wrong?” I looked back down at my hands and saw they were taught, shaking visibly. I felt my expression tighten across my face as I tried to hold in everything I was feeling. Tried to put up with it.

But I couldn't. It was too much to handle.

“I am never, ever, going to stay away from home because he's here. Ever again. I have a right to be here, and he does not!” I tried to keep my tone even, but couldn't tighten my throat enough to keep ,y voice from rising. “If he can't behave like a fucking human being, then he can leave. And I decide when he's gone too far. Not his stupid mother, and not you!” I figured I had gone too far there, but was past caring. “I can't believe you would keep pretending your hands are tied. Even if Mark and I aren't here, he still drives all your other yoga nuts crazy! What about them? Don't you care if they feel uncomfortable? Isn't the whole stupid point of stupid yoga to feel relaxed and safe?” I was shaking harder, trying to reel myself in. But Mom just stared at me, her eyes hard, not saying anything. Not defending herself.

Then she gave a hard swallow. “It sounds like you want me to ban them both from the group. Is it alright if I give them another chance?” She spoke slowly, her voice calm and low. “I will talk to Sammy beforehand. I'll send them both away if he gets out of hand. I'll defend your choice in front of the others. Is that something we can both live with?”

I saw in my mind how it would play out Wednesday, during their next class. He wouldn't take her seriously, even if she did pull him aside. Everything was a joke. The word no was a joke to him. I hoped that the other women would back Mom up, but they never even said anything when he touched them. What would they do for me? The only way this could end was her losing the coven entirely. I didn't want to see him again. But I also didn't want her to sacrifice anything more for me.

So I nodded.

Mom stood up, placed her hand on my head, then gave it a kiss. “I'm sorry I let it go this far,” she said. “I've failed you all over again.”

I tried to catch her hand as she made to walk away, but she slipped it through my fingers. “Mom, it's not like that.” I couldn't have her going to pieces because of this. I speed-walked to the stairs to head her off. “Stop, I need to tell you something.” She hung her head, and a tear dripped down her nose. “Look at me!” I yelled, and she flinched. I held my breath, trying to swallow my anger and frustration and offer the calm and comfort she would give to me whenever I'd slip up. I threw my arms around her and held tight, squeezing when she shrunk back. “I'm so mad at you right now, and that's okay. I'm allowed to be mad. It doesn't make you an awful mother. I'm angry because I'm hurt. And I know that makes you feel worse. It's okay for you to be upset that I'm upset. We're allowed to be upset at each other and because of each other.” This was something I hadn't understood before this semester. How having nasty feelings about each other wasn't the same as turning on the only person in the world who was really on our side. But processing my anger and fear these last few weeks had opened up this possibility that we could just be worried and enraged and frustrated and confused without having to react to any of those feelings or shut them down.

I thought back to what brought on my anger about Sammy, and knew she was hyper-focusing on that choice right now.

“I'm going to be mad about the Sammy thing for awhile, because I don't understand why you chose Janet over me. But I need you to believe that I'll never be mad at you for staying with dad. Or talking to him after you left. Or going back to him. Or doing it all over again and again. I understand now why you did it all. Even before, I didn't blame you for it. I was just pissed at him for pulling us back in when he didn't really want you. I was mad at him for wanting to own you.” I felt her go slack and held tighter, worried she might collapse in my arms. I pressed my cheek against hers, like she used to when telling me she would help me stop. Never slip up again. She put so much on herself. To fix me. To fix him.

“You are such a great mom. Even when your advice doesn't make any sense, it turns out to be right. Even when I hate your clubs, it helps to watch you find peace so I can try it on my own. I couldn't have gotten anywhere without you, especially with all this new shit I'm going through. I can talk to you and ask for help, or just choose to keep it to myself because you rarely pry.

“You made this one mistake. This one bad choice. That's it. It's not the end of the world, and you're going to do better next time. Because you'll know a little better next time.”

I had expected it to feel so validating to throw my mom's words back in her face. Like, ha, take your own advice. But I just felt love. I always thought she said those things because I was so weak that all I needed was somebody's confidence in me to succeed. But knowing her like I do now, she must have said these words out of love, too. And because she really did believe them at the time, even after all of my failed attempts.

I moved my arms from around hers and instead wrapped them around her middle, like a hug. After a moment, she supported her own weight and hugged me back, fiercely.

Her mouth was pressed against my shoulder, but I could make out, “How did you get so optimistic?”

I laughed, fluttering her hair with my breath. “I learned it from watching you.” She snorted, and I'm pretty sure I felt some snot fly out of her nose and onto my shirt. But I didn't care. I was just glad she was responsive.

After a few minutes, she peeled herself off of me. “I still need to be alone,” she insisted, wiping her face on her sleeve. I nodded and let her pass. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing my hand as she passed me.

“Thank you, too,” I replied. “For everything.”

It wasn't until the doorbell rang that I remembered I had to get ready for school. I met Mark on the porch, “You should just go on without me,” I said. “I haven't eaten yet.”

He looked at my tear-streaked face, then to the wet prints on my shoulder. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

I scratched my head, getting my fingers caught in a braid that really was too tight. Realizing I didn't want to fill him in on what all I said to my mom, I reassured him that I'd be at school, just a little late. “I'll see you for sixth,” I said, then kissed him and backed up to close the door. He backed away too, nodding before turning to go.

It struck me how relieved I felt now. I realized that all those things I said to Mom had been bottling up for a long time, and I needed to release the valve so I could start working through them. The relief also brought a sense of peace with it, one that told me everything would be alight, because I would make it so. I could make it so. I could do anything.

I could skip school and avoid seeing Arabelle and Newcastle, but I didn't want to. I wanted to go, and see friends, and work my grades up so I could run through the woods on the cross country team and maybe qualify for some scholarship money if I ever went on to college. I wanted to do something other than sit in my room and read and wait for somebody else to make something happen for me. I wanted to live this life that I had started to craft for myself, because there were parts of it worth experiencing finally.

I felt myself almost repeating that day Mark pulled me into that storage room during the pep rally. But instead of going from classroom to classroom, rushing during passing periods, I spent a larger chunk of time at the beginning of the school day moving plans forward.

I wandered into the office first, asking for a pass and explaining that my mom needed me to help her with something earlier in the morning, and to please call her to confirm that in an hour or so. Then I walked to my first-period room and asked Ms. Clemence if I could speak to her after class. She wrote me a pass for the next period ahead of time, and we broke down exactly what I would need to do in order to stay in good standing for joining a team. Now that I was turning in my assignments, the GPA requirement seemed laughably low. Then she accessed my transcript from my other schools and showed me that to graduate on-time, I'd have to get straight B's for the next five semesters, or my accumulative grade point average would sink me.

Those months of focusing all my energy into not killing everyone was going to make me a super-senior, I swear.

She went on to cover sports scholarships and college programs that fit well around extracurriculars. After that, she reminded me that colleges liked to see well-rounded students, and that joining an academic club would look good on my applications. It was clear she thought the Biology Club she advised would be the most impressive. Multiple seniors in her AP class nodded along.

“I'll think about it, but my interest in biology is somewhat … specialized,” I replied, omitting my stake in hematology and the reason for it. She said I could always join later in the semester or next year, and promised to talk to the cross country coach about having me attend practices until I was able to pull my grades up further.

I swung by my second period class next, handing over my pass and explaining that I was late to school due to a family emergency. When I asked what I could do to stay on track for the rest of the semester, my Home Ec teacher smiled and pulled out a giant binder of all the upcoming assignments. She handed me a copy of the syllabus schedule and told me not to lose this one. I could now plan my homework ahead of time.

At the end of each of the following classes, I asked about assignments, extra credit, and assessment scheduling. Most of my teachers huffed about my losing their syllabi, but willingly made a new copy for me to keep. With a better idea of when to expect out-of-class work, I could chip away at a few assignments a night and maintain a B-average.

Once again, I decided to forgo asking Newcastle for help. His mechanical scheduling of assignments was easy to anticipate and was now based exclusively on the notes taken from his sudden interest in torture tactics. Instead, I approached Mark before class and whispered to him before the bell chimed, “I'd like you to skip practice tomorrow and join my mom and I for yoga.” Arabelle snapped her gaze from the window and gave me the most disbelieving look I'd ever seen. I stared her down, daring her to make some snippy remark about it. She rolled her eyes and refocused on the parking lot.

He leaned in and asked, “Is that really a good idea?”

I nodded. “Things will be better after, I promise.” He agreed with no further questions.

After class, Mark sidled up next to me, but didn't say anything until we were halfway to the soccer field. “So…” he started, and I knew what was coming. “You seemed upset this morning, but now you look cheerful. And I guess there's not really a problem with that, but I'd like to check in with you about it anyway.” He let out his breath and I tried not to giggle at how nervous he seemed.

“Mom and I had a heart-to-heart this morning, and I said a lot of things that have been bugging me for awhile. It got teary, but I think we're okay now. She just has a tough night coming, and I wanted she and I both to have someone to support us in that.”

“What's going to be so tough about tomorrow night?” He smirked. “Is she switching to hot yoga, because I'm definitely there for that.”

I shook my head, trying not to smile. “I have no idea what that is, but I think I should take offense.” He hip-checked me lightly. “No, it's a bit more complicated.” I briefly explained Mom's request to give Sammy and Janet another chance, and how I didn't want to see them ever again when I expected it to go badly no matter what.

“It sounds like she needs them to make another wrong move to justify ditching them.”

I sighed heavily. “I know. It's the same shit she used to do with my dad. And he knew when she was trying to pull away, because he would start doing the things she wanted all along. Which only proved he knew how, and was choosing not to, and should have been left for that alone.”

“So you think if Sammy behaves after getting a dressing-down, your Mom should send him away for that too?”

I paused. “No … I just don't think it'll last. It didn't for my dad, you know? He'd behave long enough for her to settle in, then go back to calling her a selfish bitch. I don't think Sammy will last much longer than he ever did. And I don't want to be on-edge for the rest of my life”

He nodded. “There are two of them, though. If Janet pushes Kate too far, she might get cut from the coven herself.”

I shrugged. “I doubt it. She's an adult. She should be better at respecting boundaries than Sammy.”

Mark shrugged back. “Your dad was an adult, too,” he said, and left it at that.

Mom was mostly back to her usual self when I walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were still puffy, but she looked happy to see me. “How was school?”

That question used to be a regular check-in with us. Of course, she wasn't asking how my day went. Just how close I got to requiring another sudden move out-of-state. I could tell that wasn't how she meant it this time, though. I had come far, and she was noticing.

“It went really well, actually.” I gave her a brief download of my meeting with Ms. Clemence and how close I was to qualifying for sports. We joked that after all this work to improve my GPA, I might get cut during tryouts. As if I weren't in better shape for long-distance running than half the college athletes who competed each year. Then I told her about bringing Mark over for yoga, trying to gauge how she was handling our talk that morning. Sadness leaked into her eyes for a moment, but she seemed eager to have him back for a visit. Finally, I brought up Mark's offer to have his father teach me to cook and garden. I was worried Mom might think I was rejecting her help now that she'd finally have plenty of time at home during the week, but she smiled.

“I think it's really great you're learning to care for yourself. It's a mark of independence. I won't worry about you as much, and you'll be ready to set out on your own when you get the craving for more freedom.” She sipped her drink and smiled at me over her mug.

I nodded. “That would be nice. Or I could live here forever and cater all the fabulous parties you'll host with your two covens.”

She hmmed. “Wouldn't that be nice. There's plenty of space. Good neighborhood. Cute guy next door.” She winked.

“It's just a thought,” I said. “I could cook for you too. Or not cook. Is raw a verb?” I elbowed her and she stuck out her tongue.

“I wouldn't mind you figuring out how to make that lamb stew Jason served. I could eat that every day.”

“Live-in chef. It has a nice ring to it.”

Mom smiled, but followed it up with a steely look. “I hope you're not trying to get out of that internship program next year.”

I huffed. “How do you even know about that?” I whined.

“Now that I'm a member of your jock coven, they keep me up to date with the latest gossip. I'm even part of their group chat for school projects.” She looked so proud of herself.

“Next you'll be starting a homeschooling program for vampire teens.”

She laughed, but shook her head. “No, I've told you before. It's good for you to be around other people. People different from you. Gives you a better sense of the world and those in it.” Then she gave a mischievous grin. “I did ask them to keep me updated on your graduation requirements, since you clearly haven't.”

I rolled my eyes. “I just talked to one of my teachers about graduating on-time today, actually.”

Mom looked surprised by that. “You did?”

I nodded. “It started with the sports requirement. Then it was using sports programs to get scouted and receive aid packages for college. Now Ms. Clemence has got this whole two-year-plan drafted to help me catch up on the stuff I flunked at other schools.”

“Wow, Misty, I'm impressed. That's a lot of planning.” I knew what she meant. You must be very sure about sticking around. It stung less now, when it was easier to be hopeful. And I was no longer fantasizing about dropping out.

“That's right,” I said, responding to both what she said and what she didn't. “And I like the idea of college. But it'd be easier to live here then. And if my apprenticeship thing did lead to a job, I'd already have somewhere nearby to work.”

Mom nodded. “I think it would be better for you to live here too, but let's not rule out your other options quite yet.”

I agreed and she dropped the subject. She told me about the other things her new friends talk about, beside their kids. She and Rei had a date for Saturday, to celebrate her first day off after resigning from the hospice facility. None of the other women really liked yoga, but they were brainstorming ways to connect with a common hobby. Ash's mom wanted them all to try step aerobics.

Eventually we moved to our chairs in the back room, like we did most nights. It was somewhat startling to think that with all the aspects of my life that had changed in the last few weeks, this nightly habit had remained the same. Just the two of us here, in our comfy chairs, sipping on mugs of blood, watching the rain. I wanted to remember these moments most when everything changed again. Whether from my own mistakes or just the process of moving out and on with life, things would eventually shift.

I took a moment to imagine what my life could be in five or ten years. It was a new sort of fantasizing for me. I'd never really looked beyond the next few days when wondering how things could go. And growing up, I never had the capacity to consider life as a teen or an adult. All my energy was taken up worrying about the next day, certain nothing would improve for Mom and I. But now things had, and I could believe there would be more change without fear.