Do I Wanna Know?

Chapter 30

When I was eight years old, I asked my mom if I could have a birthday party and invite the other kids in the apartment complex over. I'll never forget the way she laughed in my face and said that I didn't have any friends before she puffed on a blunt and poured herself a cup of what I thought was red grape juice at the time.

I started crying on the living room floor next to the couch, and I remember my dad putting his hand down harder on my head than he meant to and patting me like I was a dog. My mom was annoyed with the crying, and it was like I wasn't even there when she started ranting to my dad about me.

She said, "You see? This is why I never wanted to have a stupid baby in the first place. She's like fifteen and she still cries like a fuckin' newborn. We should have just aborted the goddamn thing when we had a chance."

Pretty much every day since then, I wondered why she didn't just abort me? I turned out healthy when I was born, so clearly she was able to keep off the hard drugs while I was still growing inside her, but why go through all the trouble when she never even wanted me?

And now, as I turned in the full-length mirror and pushed my stomach out until it looked like I had a little baby bump, I wondered if I even wanted what was inside. I didn't know how to be a mother, and the only children I've ever been around are the ones you see in the grocery store or the mall. That's it.

The knock on the bedroom door scared me half to death as I hurried to fix my shirt and told Maria she could come in. All she did was pop her head inside and tell me that she deep cleaned the whole house for Harry's arrival tonight, and asked me if there was anything else I needed.

"Um," I cleared my throat and looked down at myself. "No. Thank you for cleaning, and for keeping me company while Harry's been gone. I'm gonna talk to him about having his friends hire Manuel's guys. They'll tip like crazy."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Miss Grace," she chuckled. "We're doing okay."

I nodded and followed her out of the bedroom, back downstairs. "Well, 'okay' can always be turned into 'better'. I'll talk to him, and I'm sure he'll be happy to make the arrangements."

With all her supplies by the front door, she turned to me with her hands on her small hips. She was so petite, almost shorter than me, but the woman knew how to work.

"Miss Grace, can I say something that I really hope you take the right way?"

I smiled a little at her accent, nodding as I crossed my arms in front of her. "Sure."

"I've been working for Mr. Styles for a long time, six years now, I think. You're not...well, you're not the first woman who has ever stayed in this house, but you're the first who has been here longer than a day or maybe two. The other ones were not so kind and thoughtful."

I swallowed that pill, knowing other women slept in the same bed Harry and I share, but it's not like that was major news to me. I just didn't love hearing it.

"Well, that's because I'm better than all the other girls," I teasingly shrugged, but Maria didn't laugh.

"You are. I think Mr. Styles is really very fond of you. You're good for him."

My expression softened until I wasn't really smiling anymore, but just letting that sink in. "Thank you, Maria. I appreciate that."

"Oh," she sighed. "I really hope that wasn't too much, and please maybe...don't tell Mr. Styles I said that about the other girls."

And just like that, I hung my head with a defeated laugh. "I won't tell Mr. Styles anything, other than how much I like you."

She gave me something of a relieved smile as I let her out of the house, and helped her load her things into the back of her minivan.