Temi's POV

Even to my ears, my laughter is hollow. I finish laughing and look at my mom, who is staring at me with the look of utmost displeasure. I sneak a glance at Isabella. Her expression is still inscrutable. I glance away.

"Mom, I'm 20 years old, I don't need a babysitter." I say.

"Isabella's not a babysitter."

"She sure sounds like one." I reply snarkily, "Although, I'd say she doesn't really look like one, doesn't have the warmest aura around her."

"And you do?" My mom asks. It's clear she doesn't find me amusing, not in the slightest. But my mom not finding me amusing is not anything new. And not even the death of my best friend will change that.

"I'm not the one auditioning for a babysitting job," I retort, to which my mom lets out the loudest sigh yet.

"Temilola," I glance up. I know that shit's real whenever my mom uses my full name. "I'm worried about you. I don't like the idea of you cooped up all alone in this apartment, especially after... after Grace..." Her voice trails off and I feel my heart rate pick up. It's the first time my mom has made mention of Grace since entering my apartment. I suddenly feel feeble. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I swallow the lump forming in my throat and go to put more food in my mouth, but my plate is empty.

"Isabella is going to be with you for a while. She's a trained, and is going to make sure that you don't hurt yourself-"

"That I don't hurt myself?" I ask, the sadness I had felt a few moments ago was now gone, replaced only by anger. "You think because my best friend killed herself I'm going to kill myself?"

"Temi, that's not at all what I am saying. You're going through a hard time. You need to have somebody there with you."

"You don't have to say it, but it's clear to see! And you can't even be bothered to spend time with me yourself, so you hire someone else to do it." My mom has never been the most 'motherly' person, but it's astonishing that not even the death of my best friend could cause her to spend more time with her only child.

"You know I'm very busy with work," she states angrily, "it's the whole reason you can attend this luxurious private college in the first place."

I sneak a glance at Isabella, who is standing quietly, watching our argument unfold. She still has an unreadable expression on her face, except now she appears slightly bored. This just makes my anger erupt more inside of me.

"Temi," my mom says, now resting a hand on my upper arm, "I know how this appears. But I am genuinely just worried about you and I want to make sure you're okay."

My arms are crossed angrily over my chest and I don't look at my mom or Isabella. I just stare at the floor with a million thoughts running through my mind. I want to scream. To cuss everybody out, but I suddenly feel weak, depleted.

Was any of this really worth it? I had always hated the fact my mother worked so much. I hate how important and how demanding working in the government is for her. What more, since she had been elected as a Senator everything only got worse. 

I push these feelings down rather than voicing my thoughts.

A few more moments of silence pass before I finally speak up. "Fine. But she's not sleeping in Grace's room." I want to protest more, to add more conditions. I want to say that the apartment is too small for the both of us. But I know my mom would bring up the fact that Grace and I lived together here just fine, and I can't bear the thought of her mentioning Grace again.

"That's not a problem. I am content with sleeping on the couch."

It was Isabella that had spoken, tearing into my thoughts. Her voice is smooth but has a stern edge to it. It holds a certainty to it, a sense of assurance and I feel annoyance prickling inside of me. I want to tell her she looks stupid in her pantsuit, but I hold my tongue and just keep staring at the floor.

"Well then," my mom says, clapping her hands together, "I guess it's all settled then."

Except it's not. That there's nothing at all in me that feels settled. Not since Grace's death, and nothing ever will.

"I have to catch my flight soon, Temi. I have a meeting in DC in a few hours." I don't look at my mom as she leaves a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I'm angry at her, but at the same time, I don't want her to leave. She rubs my arm for a bit, but after I give no response, she lets out a sigh before walking over to Isabella.

They exchange words in hushed tones for a while. I keep my gaze fixated on the floor. A billion thoughts seem to shoot through my mind, and it is only when I hear my apartment door closing, signifying my mom's departure, that I slowly look up.

Isabella is already staring at me when I look at her. Everything about her is stupid to me. Her long hair is packed back in a bun, sleek away from her face, and I hope that it gives her a headache. Her nose seems off at an odd angle, as if broken, and I think that even the small smile she is giving me looks stupid.

I watch warily as Isabella takes a couple steps towards me, closing the wide gap between us but leaving some ample space.

"I know we didn't get off on the right foot." She now says, "how about we start over?" She reaches out her right arm, "I'm Isabella, but you can just call me Isa."

I look at her for a moment. Her brown eyes never waver from mine and the intensity fills me with discomfort.

"I don't need to be put on fucking suicide watch," I say harshly, and storm away to my bedroom, leaving her hand dangling mid-air.