Whole Lotte Trouble Ch 6

Anika stops fighting after about a block, but says nothing until they’re in the elevator back in their building.

“You’re bleeding,” she mutters to Riley; the elbow of her jacket is torn and there’s blood. It’s nothing serious.

“I’ll be fine, sweety.” Riley has her arm around Anika’s shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “What matters is that you’re OK.”

Anika snorts derisively and pulls free as the doors open. Inside the flat, she turns on them before they can get their shoes off.

“You two are fucking psychos. Were you stalking me?”

“Yup. Hundred percent,” Riley replies, gingerly removing her jacket. “Lucky for you.”

“I was fine. There’s nothing wrong with protesting. So what if I get arrested?”

Riley sighs deeply. Then she smiles at her daughter. “I love you very much. I’m glad you’re safe. And you’re grounded until you’re thirty.”

“You can’t ground me,” Anika says, outraged. “I’m an adult.”

“But we can stop paying for your phone, which I guess you gave to that nice girl to fool us,” Riley says.

That shuts Anika up.

“We would have rescued you sooner,” Lotte says, pulling off her gloves.

“Rescued me?” Anika splutters.

“But your mother wanted to hump my ass in the bathroom. Until she made a big mess. Look at her.” Lotte points at Riley’s crotch. Now that they’re in good light, the stain is large and obvious. “Disgusting. She is so gross.”

Anika’s jaw drops open and so does Riley’s.

Anika looks back and forth between the two of them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Don’t lump me in with that!” Riley tries to protest. This always happens. Anika sees them as her crazy moms, but it’s Lotte. It’s all Lotte. It’s always Lotte, but Riley gets blamed. It never fails.

“She was so hard. I couldn’t stop her,” Lotte is saying. “I was so worried about you.”

“Why are you like this?” Anika demands, inexplicably, of Riley.

“Sweety,” Riley begins, but Anika’s not hearing it.

“Oh my god! Fuck off!” she rages, turning on her heel and storming away. Her bedroom door slams.

“Why?” Riley demands shrilly, turning on Lotte, who looks smug.

“We cannot ground her,” Lotte replies with a shrug. “I punish her. Mentally.” She taps the side of her head. “Big brain. Clever.”

Riley stares at her. After a moment, she abruptly turns away and marches into their bedroom, then into the bathroom. She shuts and then locks the door. Her elbow is bleeding, she’s sore and dirty, and she reeks of tear gas. About half of her clothes make it into the hamper. The rest go on the floor. She hisses in pain as she steps into the shower, the hot water stabbing at her scraped elbow. Only after she’s adjusted and breathed in some soapy steam can she put her face in her hands and groan.

Even after all these years, Lotte is still a lot. Sometimes too much.