by Emilia Finn
“You’re peacocking, Rob. You act like you ain’t, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Polka-Dots just lost her top.”
“What?” I toss my tools down and pop to my feet beside him. Facing the girls, I hurriedly let my eyes flick from one to the next in search of the boobs. “You lie.”
He snorts and goes to work toeing his sneakers off. “It wasn’t a lie. It was more of a prediction.” He peels one sock away to reveal white feet that are never given the chance to tan.
“A prediction?”
“Yeah. It’ll be off in a bit. Guaranteed.” When his shoes are gone, and he has the attention of every single woman on the other side of the lake, he steps to the edge of the torn up pier, prepares himself – dragging out the moment as long as humanly possible – and when the girls look like they might need a drink, he dives in and reminds us both that he’s no innocent.
He acts like a grumpy fuck half the time, and he calls me out on my ogling. The only difference is, I lack subtlety.
He’s much, much sneakier.
“Fuck this.” I fix the shorts on my hips, and toss my black ballcap to the pile of clothes just a couple feet from where I stand. Toeing my shoes off, tucking my socks inside, I dive into the glimmering water and cut through half of the lake before coming up for air.
Another day of my three-month sentence passes, and though I’m at the lake, the pier remains unfixed.
Tomorrow, I tell myself. I’ll keep going tomorrow.
Ally
Crotchety?
“So, how is it?” Mom asks on an almost whisper. Why she’s whispering, I have no clue. She’s in her car in the middle of traffic, and I’m walking Main Street in pursuit of my morning coffee hit before going to the office. “Is she, like, crotchety and mean?”
“Sonia?” I ask of my mother’s paternal grandma. “She’s…” I try to sift through my thoughts and make them align with what I thought was true.
Sonia Rivera is my great grandmother. She’s my mother’s grandma. My grandfather’s mother. And word on the street is, good ol’ Grandpa was an obsessively devout biblical type. When he was twenty-five or so, he ran away from his parents and the only home he had ever known. He was not yet married, but he had met my grandma. They decided they wanted to have a life other than the kind Sonia lives, and they believed her penchant for therapy to be the work of evil. As in, a good person who believes in their God does not need a therapist. That was the bible’s job. To teach, to guide, to nurture. Grandpa didn’t approve of what Sonia was dedicating her life to, so he removed himself, ran away, and a few years later, created his own family.
Then, because this story wouldn’t be complete without a cliché, when my mom was born to this ultra conservative biblical couple, she rebelled against the strict constraints in which they tried to keep her, she became the free spirit I know today, she had fun with her body, got knocked up as a teen, my dad ditched, and then she was booted out of home and onto the streets.
At that point, we have three generations of one family who aren’t talking to each other – or, really, we have one man not talking to his mother or his daughter. We have the legends, the stories, the villains portrayed in such stories, and we have wide valleys to jump across if we want to talk to someone who came before us.
Which is kind of what I did when I asked to do my practical hours at the Rivera office.
My mom hasn’t spoken to her grandparents – ever. But of course, they know of each other’s existence. She also hasn’t spoken to her parents since she was fifteen when they kicked her out of home with nothing but a hard lesson learned and a hunger to never rely on anyone ever again.
And now here I am, spending eight hours a day with the woman my grandpa effectively disowned – and perhaps, if they were living in Salem, he would have called a witch and burned at the stake – and though I have no grand plans for a family reunion, it is kind of cool to study her, to see where I came from. To see how her mind ticks, both at work and outside of it.
I studied human behavior for four years in college. Being here is merely an extension of what I began years ago… and comes with the added bonus of getting class credits and experience in the field of work I hope to spend my life pursuing.
“Allyson? Is she horrible?”
“No.” My voice is a little terse, a little nervous. “Not mean or crotchety. I think she’s as wary of me as I am of her. She’s trying to figure out how much of the crazy was passed down to me, and I’m trying to find how much of a witch she truly is. Is she evil, or is she particularly intuitive? You know what they say about truths.”
Mom scoffs. “Yeah, there’s his story, her story, and then the truth that lies somewhere in the middle.”
“Right.”
“Has she asked about the family?”
I step inside the bakery once I arrive at the front door, pray for a quick second that the weird guy from last week isn’t here, and when I ascertain that he’s not, I breathe out a sigh of relief and join the short line. “She asked if we’re well, if I have siblings, but she’s not really probing or anything.”
“Is she nice?”
This is my mom’s grandma, after all. A blood relative, a past version of herself, but at the same time, a stranger. The fact my mom was a pregnant teen means she’s not all that old now. She’s still a woman, young and curious, and searching for her place in life.
“She’s not not nice,” I hedge and take a step forward when the line moves. “She’s… passionate about her work, but not fanatic or cult-like.” I cough and add, “Like Grandpa. She’s empathetic to her client’s feelings, and she’s smart enough to understand what they’re not telling her. She’s firm, and she’s protective of her clients. But she’s not mean about it. She’s just…” I shrug. “I don’t know. The perfect professional, I guess. But not cold or distanced. She’s old, but she’s not weak.”
I hesitate on what I want to say next, because I walk a fine line of curiosity, and not wanting to hurt feelings. Although Sonia had nothing to do with my mom being kicked out of home, she’s still of that same family, the family that didn’t want her anymore, and it took a lot of years for Mom to come to grips with that loss; even knowing that ‘loss’ was crazy people with toxic traits.
“Honestly?” I consider for a moment. “It kind of excites me to see her strength, and her, uh,” I clear my throat. “Her longevity. It’s not a hardship to be with her for eight hours a day. It’s fun to watch her work, to see how she ticks.”
“That’s…” Mom’s voice cracks a little. “Nice, honey. That truly makes me happy.”
“It does?”
“I mean, yeah. Of course. It’s just been us, right? Me, you, and for a little while, Stan. We didn’t have the big family reunions while you were growing up, the birthday parties with a billion cousins, the fun stuff that lots of kids have. Your grandparents cut us off the moment I peed on a stick, which means you’ve missed out on that cool family stuff.”
“Well, you missed out too, Mom. Your parents ditched Dodge, so you missed out on the big family stuff, and then they kicked you out, so you missed that family stuff too.”
“Yeah, and look how weird I turned out.”
I snort and step forward when the line moves again. “Touché, weirdo. I’ll be down here for a little while yet, so maybe you could visit. Stay with me for the weekend. Sonia would go nuts if you stopped by.”
“How do you think she feels about teen pregnancy?” Mom laughs, soft and awkward, but there’s a part of her still afraid of judgment. “Will she kick me out?”
“Well, considering you’re, like, thirty-eight now, I think the damage has been done and the lesson learned.”
“You being the damage?”
I laugh. “That’s what they tell me. Mrs. Campbell said it about fifty times in kindergarten alone.”
“Mrs. Campbell was a crotchety old bitch who could never manage not to coat her teeth in lipstick. She was pissed because you were always smarte
r than her, and you know better than to ever trust someone who can’t apply lipstick properly. She was afraid of the lion, honey. Weak people always are.”
“The lion?” I step forward and inhale the scent of morning coffee. I’m almost to the front of the line. “Tell me about the lion, Mommy.”
She smiles. Of course I can’t see it, but I feel it. We’ve said for years that we always feel what the other feels, we think what the other thinks, because I was once inside her. My heart was once inside her body, and because of that, a bond was formed that can’t be broken.
Perhaps that means we have a little of the crazy in us, but we prefer to call it love.
“You have the ferocity of a lion, honey. You have the heart of the lion. You descend from the likes of Sonia the Smart, and Grandpa the Crazy.”
“And you,” I add. “I descend from Miranda the Brave.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever been brave.” She brushes me off like she always does. “I’ve had my back to the wall. That’s not bravery, it’s necessity.”
“I prefer to call it badassery. Hold on, Mom.”
I step forward when the customer in front of me leaves, and smiling at the woman that I see every single morning, I repeat the order she must surely know by now. “Iced coffee, please.”
She rings it up on the register and says, “Whipped cream on top. No name on the cup.”
“That’s it.” I tap my card to the machine and wait for the beep, then stepping aside, I go to wait by the window. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Why do you never tell them your name?”
I snicker and tuck loose hair behind my ear. “It was just a thing that happened. My first day in here, I couldn’t give it, and then after that, it just became a game.”
“So why couldn’t you give it the first time? Hang on,” she adds before I can answer. “Hey, jackass! Get out of my frickin’ lane!”
“You should probably seek help for your aggressive driving, Mom. It’s bordering on dangerous.”
“It’s only dangerous for the idiots,” she counters without breaking stride. “And what’s the game?”
“What game?”
“The name game,” she laughs. “Why can’t you give your name to the barista? Is he hot? And aren’t you afraid they’ll give your hit to the wrong customer?”
“The barista today is a she, although yeah, she’s kinda hot. She’s also smart, and knows I’m the only one around here ordering iced. And I couldn’t do it the first day because there was this guy trying to chat me up. He wanted my name, but I was too proud to lose that game of chicken, so I had to follow through and not give it to the cashier either.”
“Is he hot?”
“Who, the cashier?”
“No.” Mom snickers, only to then lay on her horn and move some poor soul out of her way. “The guy chatting you up. Is he tall?”
“Yeah, and yeah. He’s a little too hot, which I suspect he knows. That’s a complete turn-off. And yeah, he’s tall enough that I have to bend my neck to see his eyes.”
“Oh, nice. Those are the best kind.”
I snort and lean against the glass to absorb the morning sunlight. “Stan was your height, Mom.”
“Oh, I know. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything. But baby, those guys who stand over you and do that smirk they do because he thinks your tantrum is cute…”
“Jesus, woman. You’re projecting.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “I am. But now you know how I got pregnant. Those tall guys are like kryptonite for me. They’re the fun ones. The wild ones. Then later, you can find yourself a Stan and settle down.”
“Solid plan. I’ll be sure to tell Luke my mom gave us the green light to fool around for fun.”
“His name is Luke?” She makes a noise in the back of her throat that makes my brows wing up. “That’s cute. And sure, have fun. Knock yourself out. But don’t forget the condoms. You’re not a teen anymore, but honey, give yourself a minute to be an adult without having a baby. I promise you’ll have fun with it.”
“Ya know, it’s surprising I don’t have insecurities after you announced I ruined your life. You bring it up often enough.”
She scoffs and slows at a set of traffic lights; I know, because I can hear loud conversation from a car nearby. “You didn’t ruin my life, honey. You saved it. I got out of a cult, I grew up, I learned how to be a badass and advocate for myself, and now I have a grown daughter, and I’m still kinda young and hot. It’s the best, really. Now you and I could go out together, and guys won’t know which one they want more.”
“You’re unstable.”
“They’ll be so confused for a minute. Like with you and your girl crush on those fighters you told me about last week. It’s a confusing time, because your head says you’re straight, but your hormones are thinking that Mom is hot as hell.”
“You’re crazy.” I burst out laughing and draw eyes from everyone in the consistently growing line waiting for their caffeine hit. “You have serious unresolved teenage fantasies, but I refuse to be your wingman for this insanity. You’ll have to find another victim to party with you.”
“I’m only playing with you, honey. Like, seventy-five-percent play. The other twenty-five percent is still in high school, looking at the seniors.”
“Iced coffee. No name.”
“Me!” I step back to the counter and smile for the barista as she hands over my drink. Dropping a couple dollars in the tip jar, I lope out of the bakery and onto the sidewalk. “They didn’t give my coffee to anyone else. Small town perks, I guess.”
“I give my name at the coffee shop by the house, and they still sometimes give my coffee to someone else.”
“Right! I know I was being judgmental last week, what with the horses and wagons and such, but there are positives for being in a small town.”
“Girl, you caught the bug already,” she teases. “What are the positives?”
“Everyone knows everyone.”
“Everyone is nosey and up in everyone else’s business.”
“The food is decent,” I counter. “There’s this diner here, and though it looks kinda plain and old-fashioned, the food is to die for. The lady boss who works there, she’s sassy and makes me eat my greens.”
Mom snorts. “She must be a mother.”
“There’s no traffic here.”
“Solid positive, and tempting enough to almost make me consider coming there.”
“It takes only ten minutes – at the most – to get anywhere. From one side of town to the other, ten minutes, tops. And that includes rush hour traffic.”
“I’m jealous.”
“And you can walk most places. Like, Sonia’s office isn’t so far from Main Street. And Main Street has a bit of everything – food, dentist, photography, accounting. It’s like a city, but condensed. I mean, they lack options, so if you don’t like the one vet, you’re kind of screwed. But so far, I’m not coming across people I don’t like.”
“Except the tall, hot, chatty guy named Luke.”
“Right.” I stop at the corner and check for traffic – none – then I cross over and head toward Sonia’s office. “But I don’t dislike him. I don’t even know him. I only saw him that one time, he tried his best to be charming, he smiled that smile he does, then it was done. I’ve been exploring a little since I got here, and the evenings are still pretty light, but I’ve yet to see him again. So I think that problem solved itself.”
“Shame,” Mom grumbles. “Every girl deserves one of those guys once in her life. I bet he’d have rocked your world.”
“You are sick, Mother. There’s something wrong with your brain.”
“I speak what I think,” she counters and laughs. “I don’t filter it out. I do enough of that while at work, so when I’m talking to my sweet child, I don’t have to censor myself.”
“Perhaps you should try.” I purse my lips. “Because after four years and an almost bachelor’s in psychology, I’m saying that something
ain’t right.”
“Oh please,” she scoffs. “Talk to me when you get that doctorate, honey. Until then, mind ya business.”
“Harsh,” I snicker and move further away from the business district, and into a more residential part of town. “We’ll start with the degree, then I’ll consider the extra. This shit is expensive, Mom.”
“It’s really too bad I didn’t find me a sugar daddy, huh? Stupid me, I got knocked up, then I married Stan for love, and now look at us, scraping our pennies together.”
“Yeah right. How’s that Mercedes you’re driving, Mom? Smooth?”
“The leather is like butter,” she purrs. “I’ve considered selling the house and living in the car instead. I’m going to be paying it off for a while yet, so I may as well get my money’s worth.”
“Or,” I add with a shake of my head. “You should stay in the house, continue to pay off the fancy car, and keep going to the job you love. Then it all works out, huh?”
“Except for the sugar daddy thing. That’s a shame.”
“You win some, you lose some. I’m walking into the office in a sec, Mom. I’ll have to let you go.”
“Walk in with me,” she says easily. “I still have about ten minutes until I’m done driving. Tell me more about Luke the Tall Cutie.”
“What’s to tell? I don’t know him. I do, however, know he tells women freely that he loves them. The woman at the bakery confirmed my suspicion.”
“Love, like he’s charismatic and silly? Or love, like he’s looking for a sugar momma and a live-in maid?”
“The jury’s out on that. And I’m not entirely inclined to ask around to find out.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Tall.” I step up onto the lush green grass outside Sonia’s office and try to put my weight onto the balls of my feet, and not my heels. “Short hair, I think. But I don’t know for sure, since he wore a hat that time.”
“Beard?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes, like it helps me remember. “But he has this stubble thing going on. It’s sexy.”
