I jerked awake, yelping as my body

I jerked awake, yelping as my body vaulted up and down.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Madoc jumped on the bottom of the bed, sending me flopping. “I hope you’re naked!”
I scurried for the covers, bringing them up to my chin. “Madoc!” I screamed, covering my face with the sheet. I was in my pajama shorts and tank top, but still!
“Come on, Tiger,” Madoc taunted, still pouncing like a seven-year-old. “Time to stop snoring. Although it was supersexy.”
He was joking. I didn’t snore. Oh, God. Did I snore?
“Madoc, stop it!” I screamed, freaked-out by the half-naked man—someone else’s half-naked man—jumping on my bed.
He wore some Polo lounge pants—I could tell, because there were little polo players all over them. And no shirt. And he shouldn’t be in my room. His room. Fallon’s old room. My room!
“Fallon!” I called for his wife.
“Madoc!” I heard her shout, probably from their room across the hall. “Leave her alone!”
“What?” He acted innocent but kept jumping. “Two hot chicks under my roof. I have a big bed, and Freud says everyone is bisexual. I say you two take a shower. I watch. Win-win.”
I popped my head off the bed, fury burning my face. “Get. Off. The bed!” I bellowed from my gut.
“Whoa!” His eyes went wide, and he laughed as he dropped his whole body to lie beside me. “Is Satan your father or did he just raise you?”
I growled and threw the sheet over my face again. “I hate to complain, what with the free room and all, but …”
“Then don’t,” he said, brushing me off, pulling the sheet down. “Seriously, though. You have to get up. We’re having a party.”
“Huh?”
“Tate’s dad flew in this morning,” he started explaining. “His assignment is on break for a couple of weeks. And my dad and Jared’s mom will be in town for the weekend. Everyone’s kicking back,” he sighed, lying back and fixing his hands underneath his head. “We’re barbecueing and having a shitload of people over. We need someone to clear away the trash.”
I jerked the sheet back over my head.
“I’m kidding.” He pulled the sheet away again, grinning. “You know I love to tease you.”
I rolled my eyes.
Playing with the hem of the blanket, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Jax will be here, then?” I asked, not looking at him.
“Jax will be at the Loop,” he shot back. “Adam will be here.”
Who …? Oh, right. Adam, his preppy friend. The one … I kind of ditched … when I got “lost” in the fun house. Yeah, class act right here.
Madoc rolled off the bed and walked toward the door, calling behind him, “Get dressed. Preferably in something Fallon can rip off with her teeth!”
“Madoc!” Fallon’s screech poured into the room, and I shook my head, burying my laugh in my pillow.
Tutoring had ended yesterday, so this was my first day without anything to do or to plan. I started back at the movie theater tomorrow, reclaiming my first and only job from high school, and as much as I enjoyed the job back then—hey, who doesn’t like free movies?—I was having a hard time getting excited. Spending the rest of the summer making minimum wage with kids who still went to high school felt like a significant step backward. But I knew it had to be done. I couldn’t live with Madoc and Fallon forever, and not only did I need a job, but I needed two.
My phone started buzzing, and I popped my head up, grabbing it off the charger on the bedside table.
“Hello?” I sat up, not recognizing the number.
“K.C.?” a woman’s voice asked. “Hi, honey. It’s Meredith Kenney. Your mom’s friend.”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Kenney,” I greeted, puzzled as to why she was calling me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I was just calling to make sure your mom was okay,” she explained. “She’s missed the last two Rotary meetings, and when I’ve tried to call, I haven’t gotten an answer.”
I opened my mouth but then closed it again.
That was weird. My mother was always punctual, and I was sure she’d call if she needed to miss a meeting. Which never happened.
“Uh, well,” I stammered, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ms. Kenney, but I’m visiting with friends right now.” Chills spread down my arms as worry set in. “I’ll swing by the house, though, okay?”
“I’ve done that. No answer,” she said. “Now I’m worried.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out what could be up. I shouldn’t be worried about her. Had she called me since I came to get my journals? No, she’d abandoned me, and I shouldn’t care about her.
But she was alone. And I was different now.
“I’ll check it out and get back to you.” I nodded, throwing off the covers and standing up. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be waiting. Thank you, sweetie.” And she hung up.
Grabbing a white summer dress from the closet, I dived into the bathroom, got dressed, and brushed my hair.
Snatching up my purse and fastening the Gear to my wrist, I stumbled into the hallway, trying to put on my sandals. “Madoc?” I called. “Can I borrow your car?”
“No!”
“Thank you,” I chirped, jetting down the hallway and then the stairs, grabbing Madoc’s keys off the entryway table before slipping out the door.
I had to hand it to Jax about one thing. I was glad he’d taught me to drive a stick. It was the only thing these people drove.
The drive to my house—my mom’s house—took about twenty minutes, and even though it was hard not to speed in Madoc’s car, I took my time.
I wasn’t really worried about her. She always took care of herself.
But the truth was, I never worried about my mom. Her presence was constant, like a lamp or a car, and I hadn’t really thought about her having a life unless I was there to see it. What did she do with herself when I was away at college? What did she think about when she was alone?
Who hurt her to make her so vile?
And now, for the first time in her life, she was causing others to worry.
Pulling up outside the house, I slowly climbed out of the car and shoved the keys in my purse. The brick stairs to my front door loomed ahead of me.
I didn’t care. This wasn’t my responsibility.
But I walked anyway.
Climbing the stairs up my lawn, I took out my key and unlocked the front door, taking in the sight right away of unopened mail spilling over the entryway table and onto the floor.
I studied the heap, letting the door close behind me.
What the hell?
I shifted my eyes left and right, noticing that the rest of the downstairs seemed completely in order.
Clean house, polished floors, everything same as always. Except for the vacuum plugged in and sitting in the middle of the area rug.
Other than that and the mail, everything looked fine. She had to be out of town, and someone was collecting the mail for her.
My shoulders relaxed.
Well, since I was here … I still had clothes, some keepsakes from my father, and—if I could handle it—my vintage Nancy Drew collection that I could pack up and still be back in time for Madoc and Fallon’s party.
I set my stuff down on the round entryway table and jogged up the stairs. Swinging myself around the banister, I pushed through my bedroom door and jerked to a halt.
I sucked in a breath. “Mother?”
She lay on my bed, wearing her navy silk bathrobe, tucked in the fetal position, and I just stared as her eyes fluttered open.
Why was she in my bed?
She focused on the wall, not seeming to notice me in front of her, but then she blinked and looked up.
The sadness in her bloodshot brown eyes paralyzed me. This wasn’t my mother.
Her unkempt hair was stuffed into a messy ponytail, stray hairs falling over her face, and the usual smooth surface of her cheekbones and jaw was now showing visible signs of age and stress.
She’d been crying. A lot.
Her eyes fell, and I watched as her shaky arms pushed her up to a sitting position. She barely had the strength to move.
Her heavy eyes were tired, and I swallowed the fat lump in my throat seeing the misery on her face.
My eyes stung.
“Mother?” I whispered.
And just then her face cracked. She broke into tears and buried her face in her hands, and I watched her, wondering what the hell was going on and if this was real. My heart felt as if it were being torn in two.
Tears blurred my eyes as I scowled at her. This wasn’t real. It was an act.
She was hunched over, sobbing into her hands, and I shook my head, unable to believe her. I had no idea how to take this.
Then I saw my bedside table. There was a picture of my father with me.
Me. Juliet. Not K.C.
I was ten years old, and he had snuck me to a carnival without my mother knowing during one of his stints out of the hospital. He’d kept the picture in his hospital room, but I never knew what happened to it after he’d died.
She’d kept it.
And then I saw another picture. Cracked and dull, the photo was clearly old. Picking it up, I looked into the face of a little girl, standing with two adults. It was my mother as a child with her parents. Her father wore a suit as he stood above her mother, who sat on a chair, stiff with her hands resting in her lap. My mother—about thirteen or so—stood to the side, untouched. No one was smiling.
I looked back down at her, seeing her drop her hands to her lap and keep her head down as she fisted her robe and cried.
I blinked, letting my silent tears spill over. I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t love my mother. I didn’t even know her.
But as I looked down at her and saw her broken life and the weight of her mistakes crumbling her composure, I felt the despair she must be feeling. What a horror it must be to realize you’ve gone too far to go back. And what pain it must be to have a life full of regret and know there are not nearly enough years to undo the damage.
Through all of her faults—the abuse, the neglect, the pain—she’d lost everything, and I was happier without her. I didn’t fear her, and I could go right now and not lose anything.
But I didn’t go.
I sat down, next to her on the bed, and waited for her to stop crying.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Aku tersentak terjaga, mendengking sebagai tubuh saya berkubah naik dan turun."Selamat pagi, sinar matahari!" Utica melompat pada bagian bawah tempat tidur, mengirimkan saya menjatuhkan diri. "Saya berharap kau telanjang!"Aku bergegas untuk selimut, membawa mereka ke dagu saya. "Utica!" Aku berteriak, meliputi wajahku dengan lembar. Aku dalam piyama celana pendek dan tank top, tapi masih!Ayolah, Tiger,"ejek Utica, masih menerkam seperti tujuh tahun. "Waktu untuk berhenti mendengkur. Meskipun itu adalah supersexy."Dia sedang bercanda. Saya tidak mendengkur. Oh, Allah. Apakah saya mendengkur?"Utica, menghentikannya!" Aku berteriak, ketakutan-out oleh setengah telanjang laki-laki-laki-laki setengah telanjang orang lain — melompat di tempat tidur saya.Dia mengenakan beberapa Polo lounge celana-saya tahu, karena ada sedikit polo pemain seluruh mereka. Dan tidak kemeja. Dan ia tidak boleh di kamarku. Kamar nya. Hotel dan layanan bagus Fallon's. Kamarku!"Fallon!" Aku menelepon untuk istrinya."Utica!" Aku mendengar dia berteriak, mungkin dari kamar mereka di seberang lorong. "Meninggalkan Dia sendirian!""Apa?" Dia bertindak tidak bersalah, tetapi terus melompat. "Dua ayam panas di bawah atap saya. Saya memiliki tempat tidur besar, dan Freud mengatakan semua orang biseksual. Saya mengatakan kalian berdua mandi. Aku menonton. Menang-menang."Aku melongok saya dari tempat tidur, kemarahan yang membakar wajah saya. "Dapatkan. Off. Tempat tidur!" Aku berteriak dari usus."Wah!" Matanya pergi lebar, dan dia tertawa seperti dia menjatuhkan seluruh tubuhnya untuk berbaring di samping saya. "Adalah setan ayahmu atau apakah ia hanya meningkatkan Anda?"Aku berkata sambil menggeram dan melemparkan lembar atas wajah saya lagi. "Aku benci untuk mengeluh, apa dengan kamar gratis dan semua, tapi..."“Then don’t,” he said, brushing me off, pulling the sheet down. “Seriously, though. You have to get up. We’re having a party.”“Huh?”“Tate’s dad flew in this morning,” he started explaining. “His assignment is on break for a couple of weeks. And my dad and Jared’s mom will be in town for the weekend. Everyone’s kicking back,” he sighed, lying back and fixing his hands underneath his head. “We’re barbecueing and having a shitload of people over. We need someone to clear away the trash.”I jerked the sheet back over my head.“I’m kidding.” He pulled the sheet away again, grinning. “You know I love to tease you.”I rolled my eyes.Playing with the hem of the blanket, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Jax will be here, then?” I asked, not looking at him.“Jax will be at the Loop,” he shot back. “Adam will be here.”Who …? Oh, right. Adam, his preppy friend. The one … I kind of ditched … when I got “lost” in the fun house. Yeah, class act right here.Madoc rolled off the bed and walked toward the door, calling behind him, “Get dressed. Preferably in something Fallon can rip off with her teeth!”“Madoc!” Fallon’s screech poured into the room, and I shook my head, burying my laugh in my pillow.Tutoring had ended yesterday, so this was my first day without anything to do or to plan. I started back at the movie theater tomorrow, reclaiming my first and only job from high school, and as much as I enjoyed the job back then—hey, who doesn’t like free movies?—I was having a hard time getting excited. Spending the rest of the summer making minimum wage with kids who still went to high school felt like a significant step backward. But I knew it had to be done. I couldn’t live with Madoc and Fallon forever, and not only did I need a job, but I needed two.My phone started buzzing, and I popped my head up, grabbing it off the charger on the bedside table.“Hello?” I sat up, not recognizing the number.“K.C.?” a woman’s voice asked. “Hi, honey. It’s Meredith Kenney. Your mom’s friend.”“Oh, hi, Mrs. Kenney,” I greeted, puzzled as to why she was calling me. “How are you?”“I’m fine. I was just calling to make sure your mom was okay,” she explained. “She’s missed the last two Rotary meetings, and when I’ve tried to call, I haven’t gotten an answer.”I opened my mouth but then closed it again.That was weird. My mother was always punctual, and I was sure she’d call if she needed to miss a meeting. Which never happened.“Uh, well,” I stammered, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ms. Kenney, but I’m visiting with friends right now.” Chills spread down my arms as worry set in. “I’ll swing by the house, though, okay?”“I’ve done that. No answer,” she said. “Now I’m worried.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out what could be up. I shouldn’t be worried about her. Had she called me since I came to get my journals? No, she’d abandoned me, and I shouldn’t care about her.
But she was alone. And I was different now.
“I’ll check it out and get back to you.” I nodded, throwing off the covers and standing up. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be waiting. Thank you, sweetie.” And she hung up.
Grabbing a white summer dress from the closet, I dived into the bathroom, got dressed, and brushed my hair.
Snatching up my purse and fastening the Gear to my wrist, I stumbled into the hallway, trying to put on my sandals. “Madoc?” I called. “Can I borrow your car?”
“No!”
“Thank you,” I chirped, jetting down the hallway and then the stairs, grabbing Madoc’s keys off the entryway table before slipping out the door.
I had to hand it to Jax about one thing. I was glad he’d taught me to drive a stick. It was the only thing these people drove.
The drive to my house—my mom’s house—took about twenty minutes, and even though it was hard not to speed in Madoc’s car, I took my time.
I wasn’t really worried about her. She always took care of herself.
But the truth was, I never worried about my mom. Her presence was constant, like a lamp or a car, and I hadn’t really thought about her having a life unless I was there to see it. What did she do with herself when I was away at college? What did she think about when she was alone?
Who hurt her to make her so vile?
And now, for the first time in her life, she was causing others to worry.
Pulling up outside the house, I slowly climbed out of the car and shoved the keys in my purse. The brick stairs to my front door loomed ahead of me.
I didn’t care. This wasn’t my responsibility.
But I walked anyway.
Climbing the stairs up my lawn, I took out my key and unlocked the front door, taking in the sight right away of unopened mail spilling over the entryway table and onto the floor.
I studied the heap, letting the door close behind me.
What the hell?
I shifted my eyes left and right, noticing that the rest of the downstairs seemed completely in order.
Clean house, polished floors, everything same as always. Except for the vacuum plugged in and sitting in the middle of the area rug.
Other than that and the mail, everything looked fine. She had to be out of town, and someone was collecting the mail for her.
My shoulders relaxed.
Well, since I was here … I still had clothes, some keepsakes from my father, and—if I could handle it—my vintage Nancy Drew collection that I could pack up and still be back in time for Madoc and Fallon’s party.
I set my stuff down on the round entryway table and jogged up the stairs. Swinging myself around the banister, I pushed through my bedroom door and jerked to a halt.
I sucked in a breath. “Mother?”
She lay on my bed, wearing her navy silk bathrobe, tucked in the fetal position, and I just stared as her eyes fluttered open.
Why was she in my bed?
She focused on the wall, not seeming to notice me in front of her, but then she blinked and looked up.
The sadness in her bloodshot brown eyes paralyzed me. This wasn’t my mother.
Her unkempt hair was stuffed into a messy ponytail, stray hairs falling over her face, and the usual smooth surface of her cheekbones and jaw was now showing visible signs of age and stress.
She’d been crying. A lot.
Her eyes fell, and I watched as her shaky arms pushed her up to a sitting position. She barely had the strength to move.
Her heavy eyes were tired, and I swallowed the fat lump in my throat seeing the misery on her face.
My eyes stung.
“Mother?” I whispered.
And just then her face cracked. She broke into tears and buried her face in her hands, and I watched her, wondering what the hell was going on and if this was real. My heart felt as if it were being torn in two.
Tears blurred my eyes as I scowled at her. This wasn’t real. It was an act.
She was hunched over, sobbing into her hands, and I shook my head, unable to believe her. I had no idea how to take this.
Then I saw my bedside table. There was a picture of my father with me.
Me. Juliet. Not K.C.
I was ten years old, and he had snuck me to a carnival without my mother knowing during one of his stints out of the hospital. He’d kept the picture in his hospital room, but I never knew what happened to it after he’d died.
She’d kept it.
And then I saw another picture. Cracked and dull, the photo was clearly old. Picking it up, I looked into the face of a little girl, standing with two adults. It was my mother as a child with her parents. Her father wore a suit as he stood above her mother, who sat on a chair, stiff with her hands resting in her lap. My mother—about thirteen or so—stood to the side, untouched. No one was smiling.
I looked back down at her, seeing her drop her hands to her lap and keep her head down as she fisted her robe and cried.
I blinked, letting my silent tears spill over. I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t love my mother. I didn’t even know her.
But as I looked down at her and saw her broken life and the weight of her mistakes crumbling her composure, I felt the despair she must be feeling. What a horror it must be to realize you’ve gone too far to go back. And what pain it must be to have a life full of regret and know there are not nearly enough years to undo the damage.
Through all of her faults—the abuse, the neglect, the pain—she’d lost everything, and I was happier without her. I didn’t fear her, and I could go right now and not lose anything.
But I didn’t go.
I sat down, next to her on the bed, and waited for her to stop crying.