Today was a long one to say the least, so I'm excited to get home and just chill. A hot shower, my bathrobe, and a pie of cheese pizza are calling my name.

I'm a few feet away from the front porch when my eyes land on a dark brown-haired woman sitting on one of the wooden chairs.

The same woman from all those baby pictures I burned years ago. The same woman I once called 'mom'.

I can't speak because I'm speechless. This isn't real. It can't be.

I know that I have to move, that I have to do something, so I finally start walking. The sound of my shoes hitting the leaves on the ground gets her to look up.

Her eyes, they're just as dark as I remember them to be. She looks different, though. She looks more...settled. Happier, maybe.

"Can I help you?" I ask, my tone stand-offish, like I'm talking to a stranger. Because that's when she is to me. A stranger.

"Anastasia," she says, her soft voice taking me back to a time that I've tried so hard to forget.

She stands up and I can tell that she's thinking about her next move. Does she come down the stairs to meet my stance or does she stand where she is and wait until I'm forced to pass her?

"You have 2 minutes to tell me what you're doing here or I'm calling the cops. You're trespassing."

"Your father told me to wait out here for you."

"Excuse me?"

"He's inside. He knows that I'm here."

I immediately dial my dad's cell, but hang up when I see him walk out the front door. He doesn't look confused at all, and that confuses me. Yet, his voice is shaky when he speaks.

"Anastasia, sweetheart, hi," he says.

"What is this? Why is she here?"

"To talk to you."

I look away from my dad and center my eyes on her. "I have nothing to say to you. Please leave."

"Anastasia...," she says.

"Did you not hear me? I said I have nothing to say to you," I shout, but she doesn't move. Instead, she looks at my dad, who appears extremely uncomfortable. He's scratching his neck and I can tell that he's contemplating in his mind whether or not this was a good idea. I can answer that, this was the worst idea he's ever had.

"Fine," I say when she doesn't move. "If you won't leave, I will."

I turn around and head for the end of our driveway without a destination in mind. I don't know where I'm going, but I don't care. Anywhere is better than here.

"Anastasia, wait," I hear my dad call out, but I keep going, until he reaches for me. "Anastasia."

I turn around, crying. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you would do this to me."

"Sweetheart, I..."

"Why did you do it, dad? I mean, how could you? How could you not tell me she was here?"

"Because I knew if I did you wouldn't have come home."

"Yet, somehow, this right now is any better?"

"Honey, she's not the same person she was. Please, just talk to her. You can-"

"I don't want to talk to her. She has until tonight to leave. Otherwise, don't expect me to be home."

***

I didn't know where to go so I texted Molly. She let me know that she was out to dinner with a girl from school. Her name is Peyton and she's actually in my English Composition class. Like me, she's quiet, but she seems like a nice girl. I messaged her back letting her know I was going to stop by.

When I get to the restaurant, the girls are finishing up dinner. They wave me over when they see me come in, and I make my way towards their booth.

"Hey, girl," Molly says.

"Hey," I say, taking a seat.

"You know Peyton, right?" she asks, and we both smile at each other and say hi. "Everything okay? You sounded upset over the phone."

"Uh, define 'okay'," I tell her, but she squints her eyes at me. "Came home from school to find my mom sitting on my front porch."

"WHAT?" Molly shrieks as Peyton looks on confused. "What was she doing at your house? How does she even know where you live?"

"Great questions. I'm sure my dad can answer them for you."

"No. Don't tell me he invited her."

"Mhm." I say, locking my jaw.

"I'm shocked. Like truly shocked."

"You and me both, Mol."

"Can I get you ladies anything else?" the waiter asks when he comes over to us.

"I think we're go-," Molly begins to say, but I cut her off.

"Actually, I'd love to see a cocktail menu if you have one."

Surprisingly, the waiter doesn't ask me for an ID and just nods his head before walking away.

"Since when do you drink?" Molly asks me, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Since my mother, who I haven't seen in 13 years because she decided to abandon her only child, showed up out of the blue to see me."

"Fair enough."

The waiter comes back with the menu and I order myself a spicy margarita. I've never had alcohol before, but hey, cheers to mom.

"So, Molly, what's the update with Henry?" Peyton asks.

"No update. My plan was...interrupted..."

"Sorry again about that, Mol," I tell her.

"Don't be. I knew going to Rafe's was a recipe for disaster." She lends me a sympathetic smirk. "How are things with you and Jack?"

"Over."

"Hate to break it to Stassie, but the words 'relationship' and 'Jack Carrington' just don't go. They never did; for the mere fact that he's just not capable of one," Peyton says.

"Whatever. I don't even talk about it anymore."

The waiter returns with my cocktail and his timing couldn't be more perfect. The second that the glass hits the table, I start chugging.

"Slow down, girl, your margarita's not going anywhere," Molly chuckles, but I keep going until the only thing left in the glass are ice cubes. Molly's eyes go wide so I say, "What?"

"Nothing," she says, her hands out.

When the waiter comes back again, I order another spicy margarita, despite Molly and Peyton trying to cut me off. And before I know it, I'm feeling loose. Like I don't have a care in the world.