A nudge too far

You leave for class still seeing the outline of her nipples through that thin night shirt and the flash of her bare ass. The Josh video keeps looping in your head no matter how hard you try to shut it out—the short thick soda-can cock, the way she choked on it, the pure contempt in every word he said to the camera.

By mid-morning your phone buzzes.

Mom: Still thinking about the videos, baby? Tell me which one hit you the hardest.

You stare at the message for a long time. Then something finally snaps.

Your thumbs move fast and hard.

You: I don’t give a fuck that you have a whole slutty sex life. You’re a grown woman. That’s your own fucking life, not mine.

You: What I do give a fuck about is you keeping these assholes sending me the evidence like I’m supposed to sit here and watch my mom be a whore.

You: Quit having them send me that shit.

You: But what I really can’t understand is why the fuck you would fuck Josh.

You: That asshole has been the bane of my existence since elementary school.

You: He’s the reason my ex is my ex.

You: And now you fucked him and my ex in the same goddamn week.

You: God, quit being such a bitch.

You hit send on the last one and sit there staring at the screen, heart hammering, waiting for the explosion.

The reply takes longer than usual.

Mom: …

Mom: Wow.

Mom: You’re really that upset about Josh specifically?

Mom: Not the others. Not Coach. Not Jamal. Not the ones who actually stretched me open. Just him.

Mom: Interesting.

Mom: Come home after class. We’re going to talk about this face to face.

Mom: And baby?

Mom: Watch your mouth when you talk to me.

You read the messages twice. The phone feels heavier than usual in your hand. The rest of the day stretches out in front of you like a long, slow walk toward whatever she’s going to say when you walk through that door.