Betting on You

13

t h i r t e e n

"What did you talk about today?"

I strapped the seatbelt across my chest and cleared my throat as my mother pulled out of the parking space, her eyes glued to the road even though I knew she was hanging on to every word I would say. Years in, and she still asked me after every appointment as if I would actually tell her.

"Just stuff." I shrugged my shoulders, looking out the window. But that stuff consisted of me mentally counting down the seconds until the hour was up, seeing as I wasn't really in the talking mood after having gone to the mall with Harmony. Maybe she would benefit from going to these.

I rolled my eyes at the thought. As if.

Mum glanced from me to the road as she drove us home, "Your father thinks this is helping you," she sighed through her nose before she paused. And then, "Is it?"

I bit my bottom lip, because I didn't know what answer to give her. I could say yes and maybe then that would put her mind at ease. Or would it? I could never tell with her. Maybe she wanted to hear me say no, because then I could finally stop going and she could act more normal around me again.

The third option was just the truth, but I didn't know what to tell her. Some days I felt like it worked and other days I felt like it didn't. Today was a day when it didn't.

So I shrugged my shoulders, opting for the simple truth, "Sometimes... most times."

Mum nodded her head, "As long as it's working."

I gave her a tight lipped smile and that was that.

When we got home and entered the house, I went straight for the stairs, getting up a few of them when she spoke up again, "Oh! Before I forget!"

I turned to look at her as she sighed through her nose and placed a on hand on her hip, "Aunt Marge says that you and Harmony haven't been getting along."

I refrained from rolling my eyes and gripped the railing, "What exactly gave her that impression?" I sarcastically quipped.

"What impression?" My head turned and my eyes met my
dad's as he casually strolled into the front hall, chewing on an apple as he slipped on his shoes.

"Dad," I huffed, watching him reach for his coat. Taking a a quick look at the time, I knew that he was going out for his bi-weekly catch-up lunch with Mr. Hemmings and a few of their shared friends, "As much as I've been trying, Harmony keeps treating me like dirt, and now I'm being accussed on being in the wrong."

"I was never accusing you." my mother interjected, giving me a pointed look.

"You were implying it." I whined.

My father glanced between my mother and I before slipping an arm around mum's waist, "Madeline's been trying her best, Eden."

"Thank you!" I gestured to dad.

At his words, my mother rolled her eyes, "Don't undermine me, David."

Immediately dad rose his hands in defence before taking another bite from his apple and opening the front door, "I'm just telling you what I've been noticing," he defended, "Harmony has not been the most receptive to our open arms."