Living With The Player

CAMILLA RENÉE

THURSDAY.

11:35 AM

“Yes mother, I got back safely. I took off three days ago and you call now?”

I twirl my eyes, knocking a few books off my table accidentally.

“Shit.”

“Language my dear. Language!”

She criticized.

“Yes, mother.”

I momble, bulging my tongue. I lowered half my body to the floor to pick up the books, curving my head to keep the cell phone over my ear.

“And I didn’t call because your father and I left for a business trip the next day. Besides, I can’t take the entire blame, you couldn’t send a text as well.”

I have been a bad daughter. Promising then failing to keep.

“Yes, mother. I’ll call or text next time. Send my apologies to dad.”

I generate a mental note to return these books to the library. I wrapped up November 9 late last night.

“I love you, Camilla. We both do and it sucks that you’re far away and don’t call or text. And that’s not the only reason I’m mad at you.”

She huffs. I’ll need to seat down for the next part.

“What else did I do Mother?”

I cross my fingers, uttering a silent prayer that Mother hadn’t known about the kiss.

“Your father was telling me an interesting story yesterday. He claims you and Dylan were making out in the lobby. He said it was ferocious, passionate, and you both appeared to be sucking each other off for dear life.”

“Dad didn’t say that mom.”

I momble lazily. Prayer is unanswered.

“Fine. He said you kissed Dylan.”

“He kissed me.”

I correct.

“You let him didn’t you?”

My mother doesn’t come off judging. There’s nothing but amusement clouded in his voice. Her daughter’s life has a resemblance to comedy.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice. I was against a fuck – brick wall.”

I interject, avoiding the curse word.

“I don’t understand Camilla. I thought he broke your heart, and you hated him.”

“W-What?”

“I don’t need a genie to grant wishes so I could ask why you were sulking for the better part of this year. I’m aware he had something to do with it..”

I cringe my nose. Mother and Father gave me space. They asked no questions while I was in my “zone” They knew the entire time and said nothing?

“Mother…”

“Is it like a forbidden Romance?”

“No, mother!”

I gasp, falling into the bed, propping my hand over my face. Oh, God.

“So what then? You hate him. Enemies to lovers?”

“Jesus! What have you been reading?”

I clutch my tummy with my free hand, doubling in laughter.

“I’ve seen the movies. You hate each other with a vow, then you can’t contain your emotions, and all that hate just goes into this passionate kiss. Oh, my God.”

“Mother!”

I whined. That sounds like what happened with Dylan and me, but my mother isn’t obtaining that satisfaction. Also, the hatred isn’t mutual.

“Don’t you have a business meeting or something mother?”

“Or something. But we get no mother-daughter time. You were over last week, but after the wedding, you shut off and let’s not even get open on the dancing you and Dylan were engaged in. The stares that boy gives you.”

She coos dreamily, gushing loudly. I displaced the cell from my ear, sighing dejectedly.

“It was just a dance mother.”

“And the kiss?”

She puts in.

“Then on Sunday, you disappeared throughout then your flight later in the day. Oh my God!”

She yelled. Startled, I tossed the phone away. I have two dramatic women in my life at this point.

“Why did you scream mother?”

“You’re in a book. This is such a good plot.”

“Again with this? I’m not the main character in your Romance books mother.”

“Aren’t you though? I just recalled the boyfriend. The one your dad kept cursing under his breath. The one with the wavy hair. He has a pretty face, my dear. Emmy? Was it?”

“Jimmy, mother. His name is Jimmy.”

“Right! Jimmy. You’re such a nasty girl. He was rooms away while you were making out with Dylan. This is getting better and better!”

“My God! Mother!”

“What? This is good. Did you tell him yet? What did he say? Did he get down on his knees? Cry? Please tell me he cried for you, dear. Did he threaten to cut Dylan’s arm off?”

“Goodbye, mother.”

“Camilla Lera Renée, do not hang up on your mother!”

She warned sternly.

“I’m not discussing my relationship life.”

“Relationships.”

She corrects, giggling loudly.

“Dylan and I aren’t in a relationship mother.”

“So why did you let him kiss you? And enjoy it?”

Silence. Someone’s finally speaking aloud. Voicing the question I’ve been asking my subconscious for days now.

“Honey, why are you with Emmy-sorry Jimmy?”

“I like him.”

I grumble, curling into the bed. The never-ending question.

“Why?”

“Because mother; he’s nice to me. He treats me well. He’s handsome. He takes me on dates. He’s funny too. He checks out everything.”

“You initiated with he’s nice to me?”

“Yes, Mother. That’s his biggest pro, and he’s not boring!”

The final words came out louder than I aimed to. I won’t endure Mother slandering Jimmy as Dylan did.

“I would not say he was, honey. You didn’t include the kissing part? Is he terrible at it”

“Mother!”

I rasped, my cheeks turning light red.

“We’re both adults Camilla, I’d like to know if he’s terrible. He checks out all the simple qualities. What about passion? Is he good in bed too?”

I toss over, groaning into the air.

“I haven’t had sex with him, Mother. Jesus.”

“Alright. Alright. But he is a good kisser?”

I track the edge of my lips, searching through my memory box for our last kiss. If we’re citing passion, it’ll be the time we nearly had sex in his bedroom. I flutter my eyes close, a breath escaping through my lips.

Jimmy’s lips over my neck, tracing soft kisses, my back pressed against his bed, I sigh softly-but then the memory grows fuzzy. When I open my eyes once again, Jimmy isn’t hovering over me.

He’s replaced by Dylan whose mouth is on mine. Hot and swift. The fragmented pieces of me moan and take her hand in his hair, plopping her upper body to meet her needs, grinding her lower part against his.

Wait-what?

I snap my lids open, gasping out of breath. Did I just-

Oh, God. I touch my lower lip, jerking my head.

“Camilla? Are you there?”

“Yes, Mother.”

I answer breathlessly.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing, Mother.”

“Yes, Jimmy is a good kisser.”

I add, pressing my hand over my beating heart. Why did I think of that?

“If he is honey, why did you kiss Dylan?”

“I-”

“You know what? Since you love lists so much, make one of Dylan and Jimmy. Pros and cons.”

“Jimmy doesn’t have any con’s mother.”

“He does. Dylan kisses better.”

“Mother! That’s not his fault so it shouldn’t count as a con.”

“So you admit Dylan’s a better kisser.”

“No! God. Mother!”

She ripples in laughs; I facepalm myself, slumping my shoulders hard.

“Reverse psychology shouldn’t work on you, but I am your mother.”

She spits between bursts of laughter.

“Make the list honey. You don’t need to tell me about it, even though I’ll daydream. Recall some pros have more weight than others.”

This got bizarre fast.

Sigh.

“What happens when I’m done with the list?”

“You’ll know honey.”

“Mom, I can’t hurt Jimmy and I can’t be with Dylan either. He’s-”

“He hurt you didn’t he?”

“How did you-”

“I’m your mother, love. Did he apologise?”

“Yes. He did.”

“Did you exonerate him?”

“I did it all over again.”

“Then make the list honey.”

“I’m not selecting between the two of them mother. This is ridiculous. I should not be speaking to you on matters such as this.”

She chuckles for half a minute.

“I’m dating Jimmy. It’s not a choice.”

“Oh honey, it became a choice the minute you kissed Dylan.”

That conceals my next come back.

“Have a good day, honey. Call your old woman once in a while. I miss you. I love you.”

She sniffles.

“I love you too mom. I’ll call. I promise.”

“Goodbye Camilla.”

I momble it back and the line goes dead. I notice a text sent ten minutes ago. A text from Dylan.

We haven’t been in contact since Tuesday. After the session. After he ran off to see his ex-girlfriend.

“The project presentation is today by 3. Come to see?”

Curiosity will end me. Not for the presentation, but for how the trip went. He’s back? I figured he might spend so much time with her?

“Sure.”

I text back and crawl under the covers. Two hours of sleep to wash off my mother’s cynical words. No way I’m making a list between both boys. Not a chance in hell.

******

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