Candy Floss

chapter thirteen | mint chocolate chip

it's a little shaky, but it's done.

chapter thirteen | mint chocolate chip

“I’m really sorry about your mom,” Owen sympathized.

    I shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

    “She was a really good actress.”

    “Was? She still is a good actress. Just because she has no use of her arms does not mean she has any less acting talent.”

    “I was just saying that it’ll be difficult to get a role with a…”

    “Disability?”

    “Yeah.”

    I knew she wouldn’t be able to get a role. She knew it. We all knew it. Whether or not she had came to terms with it was an entirely different ballpark. It bothered me that it was Owen telling me this. It would be different if his dad brought it up, but it seemed too personal. As much as I’d like to think otherwise, we weren’t close at all. He was the equivalent to that go-to partner you have in class but never saw each other out of that course.

    “Are you still coming to the show?”

    “What? Of course.”

    “Good. There’s someone I want you to meet. She’s really curious about your mom’s condition.”

    “You told people about it?”

    “It was in the newspaper, Flossy. But, yeah, I told her. I didn’t know it was under lock and key.”

    I mean, I knew it wasn’t hush-hush or anything, I just didn’t expect anyone to actually say something about it. “Oh. Who is it?”

    “Her name’s Clarisse. She’s my girlfriend.”

    With that, my dreams shattered. His grasp on me loosened and he no longer had a mental control over me. It was as if I was free, and I was, but I was also single. Which sucked because having so many daydreams about us dating were starting to convince me that we were. It was a nice feeling.

    “You have a girlfriend?”

    He laughed. “I’m not terribly ugly, am I?”

    I shrugged. “You’re all right.”

    Owen rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you opening night.”

    “Who said I was going opening night?”

    “All of the cool people go opening night. Oh, and you and your mom are invited to the cast party.”

    “I should hope so.”

    “Right. Well, later, Flossy.”

    “Goodbye, Owen.”

+++

I should’ve been home with my mom. She was recovering and needed someone by her side if something terrible were to happen. She was not the paranoid one. Dad was. He was sure she was going to have a heart attack or her legs were going to fall off or she was going to burn the house down attempting to cook. She told him that she’d be fine alone. I wasn’t convinced. Eating seemed difficult. She’d have to use her flexibility to eat with her feet or eat like a dog. Mom wasn’t a flexible person, so she was stuck with the latter. Dad left meals in the refrigerator for her. She could open it with the stub that remained. He asked our neighbors to occasionally check in on her. Hopefully they wouldn’t forget. If not, Dad would be home at five o’clock.