TEDDY BEAR ⎯ rucas

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❝ Heartbreak is something I know all too well ❞

— SLADE WILSON

• • •

It was 7:20 PM and I only had ten minutes before an evening of hell. Since my mother was so persistent on me dressing nicely, I wore a black dress with sensible height heels. The Friar's were great people but I wasn't sure I wanted to see them, especially after my session with Spencer. I didn't want to slip up and say something inappropriate but I also didn't want to be rude and stay silent the entire dinner.

By the time I had finished contemplating everything I could say, it was already 7:26 and I knew I was going to be late. My mother was going to throw a fit in the most "courteous" way she could in front of guests, and I was sure to get a phone call after the dinner with copious amounts of yelling. Ever since I was younger, she would always get furious at me even if I was a minute late. She went on and on about how it was disrespectful and how ungrateful of time I was. Suffice to say, I didn't exactly have a "stable" relationship with my mother growing up, not that our relationship now was any better.

The car ride was filled with every possible scenario I thought could happen at dinner. Some of them weren't as horrible as the others, but for the most part I terrified myself so much I almost crashed my car into a pole. Though the alternative — going to the dinner — didn't seem any better.

It was 7:37 when I arrived at the Friar's apartment. There were two cars parked in the driveway, so I was forced to park on the curb. I didn't know they still kept their old home; I just assumed they moved back into the neighborhood but into a new apartment. It felt even worse having to enter the same apartment we had shared so many memories in. I walked up the front porch step, my heart sweating and my head pounding. The sounds of my mother laughing with the Friar's already made me want to turn back around and hide out in my car.

The doorknob turned open and I found myself back in the apartment that practically defined my youth. Everyone was standing in the living room — talking about and drinking wine. Alcohol. That was always a good idea. It felt strange, seeing his parents after so many years. They still looked the same — kind, warm, and inviting — everything my mother wasn't.

"Riley! I'm so glad you could make it dear!" Mrs. Friar turned her head towards my direction and I had to put on a smile as if nothing was off.

"It's so nice to see you again Mrs. Friar. It's been too long," I said, pulling her in for a hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother's ticked off expression. She was pissed that I was seven minutes late and I was sure to get hell on it right after dinner, possibly before then.

"Oh Riley, you know you can just call me Amanda. My goodness how much you've grown! You look like such a beautiful young woman now!" Heat rushed to my cheeks as I thanked the only woman who showed me the closest thing to maternal love.

"Mr. Friar, it's wonderful to see you too. I heard you guys relocated back to New York because you got a new job. Congratulations," I said, directing my attention to his father. Mr. Friar was always the goofball of their family. He had the ability to make everyone laugh or command the attention of an entire room just by saying one stupid joke.

"I could say the same for you Riley! I heard you're working in a private practice as a therapist. I'm happy you decided to follow your dreams." There was an unusual feeling building up in the back of my throat and I tried to swallow it down.

"Oh dear, let me pour you some wine. You still look so young that I completely forgot you're now of age!" Amanda grabbed the expensive bottle of red wine and picked up a fancy wine glass from the tray on the coffee table. I happily took the glass from her hands and started drinking. My mother was sure to berate me on "acting like a drunk" later in the evening. I tried to avoid her gaze as much as possible because I couldn't take being in the Friar's old apartment and my mother's condescending behavior and tone all at once.