by Amity Hope
“I don’t know,” I hedged. “I went out to lunch with Eric. We had burgers. I’m not that hungry.”
“That’s perfect. The Firelight Grill has a lovely little Waldorf salad. Nice and light. Besides, if you can spare an hour for a stranger, you should be able to spare some time for your own mother.”
An hour later I found myself in a private little booth at Firelight, tucked back in a corner. It was Mom’s favorite place and I’d expected to hate it. I didn’t. It was elegant but not too overdone. No glass chandeliers or live piano music. Just soft lighting, muted colors, and a delicious aroma that hung in the air.
I regretted telling my mother I didn’t have much of an appetite. The plates of seafood linguini that a waitress had rushed past us smelled scrumptious.
So far, I’d picked out every last bit of disgusting celery from the salad my mother had ordered for me. I’d also listened to countless little tidbits of small talk.
“You’ve been awfully quiet. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Mom asked.
“Not really,” I admitted.
She pulled her fork through her salad, stabbed at a piece of apple, and then set her fork down without taking a bite. She folded her hands delicately in her lap and leaned forward.
“I’m going to be candid with you. It hurts that you want to spend so little time with me. I understand we have a slightly rocky past. Can’t we move beyond that?”
I thought about that for a moment. “I’ll be candid as well. It hurts me when you are continuously trying to change me.”
“I’m not trying to change you. I just want you to…expand your horizons a bit. Is it so bad that I’d like to take you shopping?”
I made a face that I hoped implied, Yes, actually.
She sighed.
“I’m not trying to change you. I’m just trying to relate to you. My friends who have daughters, they love to shop. They love to have their hair done. It’s a treat when they spend the day at a spa. They adore shopping for expensive purses and fancy shoes. What I’m trying to say is that I’m trying to relate to you the only way I know how. These were all things I was interested in at your age. I feel like I’m struggling to find common ground with you.”
I nodded to let her know I understood, or that I was at least trying to.
“Walking away from you, leaving you behind, it was the absolute hardest thing I’ve done in my entire life. To be honest, I was naïve. I thought a little girl belonged with her mother. I thought it would only be a matter of time before you missed me so much you’d be begging to come live with me. Honestly, my misplaced faith in that notion was the only thing that made it bearable to leave you behind. I wanted you to come to me, and I was so sure you would. But I wanted it to be on your terms.” She reached for her water glass. A sad, wistful expression appeared. “I was certainly wrong about that. You didn’t seem to miss me. You certainly never asked to live with me. You fought it every step of the way.” She laughed quietly. It was a wry laugh. “Even worse, you couldn’t even stand to visit with me.”
“Mom.” I paused debating what to tell her, how much to tell her. Maybe Clara had been right. Perhaps it was best to get it all out there. “I missed you so much. I cried myself to sleep for weeks. I never stopped missing you. But I didn’t feel comfortable around you anymore. I felt like you abandoned us.”
I was seventeen years old and I was just now having the first real conversation I’d ever had with my mother. It was another reminder of how she was practically a stranger to me.
I was also a stranger to her.
Realizing that, ironically, made me feel better.
Maybe I’d mistaken her trying to change me for simply trying to get to know me.
“I’m so sorry you felt that way. I wish I could change it somehow. It tore my heart in two to leave you with your father. On the other hand, I didn’t feel like it would be fair to him to rip you away when it was my decision to move across the country. I wish I could go back and change things. Yet, at the same time, I don’t know how I would’ve done things differently. If I’d forced you to come with me, I think you would’ve resented me. I wanted to avoid that. Unfortunately, I think you’ve come to resent me regardless. I was in a lose-lose situation.”
“You could’ve just stayed with Dad.” I wasn’t trying to be mean, or difficult. It was simply what I really felt.
“I could have,” she said carefully. “But I don’t think it would’ve lasted. We had already started drifting apart too much.”
“You could’ve gone to counseling,” I offered, channeling Clara.
“We could have. It may have worked. It may not have. I don’t want to play a game of What If. It’s pointless. That past is in the past. What’s done is done. I desperately want to move forward.”
She was right. It was pointless to dwell on the past. I stuffed a bite of chicken into my mouth to keep myself from dragging out the conversation like I so childishly wanted to.
“So, this boy. You like him?” she asked in a neutral tone.
I took a sip of my water. “I just met him but he seems really nice.”
She smiled and I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “Do you know this boy from school?”
I shook my head. “He just moved here. I met him at the country club.”
“His parents are members?” She perked up at the thought.
“He worked there.”
She frowned. “He just moved here, started working at the country club and already has moved on to another job?”
“It wasn’t his fault he got fired—”
“He got fired?”
“Like I said, it wasn’t his fault.” I explained to her what Jace and Mike had done.
“I’m sure it was just an accident.”
“No, Mom, it wasn’t. I was there. I saw it.” I fidgeted with my linen napkin. “I should probably also mention to you that I told the country club I would be responsible for the damages.”
“Excuse me? What?” Mom nearly choked on a scoff.
I relayed the conversation I’d had with Eric’s supervisor.
She stared at me in frustrated disbelief.
“EmLynn. I can’t believe you would do such a thing.”
“Yeah? Well, Dad would’ve been proud of me for standing up for someone who was treated so unfairly. I’ll pay the bill when it comes. Even if it takes all of the money I’ve made this summer, I’ll pay it off.”
“That was not your bill to pay.”
“It wasn’t Eric’s either,” I firmly replied.
“Fine, I’ll take care of it,” she murmured. “Just never do something like that again. Not without consulting Phillip or me first.”
“You don’t understand. I see every day how these kids treat people. Not all of them. Clara’s pretty awesome. So are Janelle and Mona. But the elite group at school? They aren’t so nice.”
Clara’s family wasn’t über wealthy. However, her parents were both professors at a private college one town over. They were active in charity events and social clubs. Like me, Clara suffered from a bit of social awkwardness. We took comfort in being socially awkward together.
It didn’t help her social standing to be borderline brilliant, either.
Janelle and Mona were much more outgoing. They, however, were both gone for the summer.
“You’re stereotyping.”
“I’m not.” Maybe I was. Just a little. “Clara is super sweet and you don’t even like her.”
“That’s not true. I like Clara just fine.”
“Then what’s your problem with her?”
“I don’t have a problem with Clara. I simply want you to expand your friend base. Get to know people. I don’t want you to stop being friends with Clara, or those other two girls, either. But is it so wrong for me to want you to have more friends?”
I took a breath, bracing myself for what I was about to say.
“Okay. I’ll make a deal with you. You stop pushing these people on me. If
you do that, I promise that once school starts I’ll make more of an effort to get to know people. But,” I held a finger up in the air, “if they turn out to be members of the Mean Girl Club, count me out.”
“Fair enough,” she decided. “I would really like you to try to get to know some of these girls. I know their mothers. Every now and again there are mother daughter events. Fundraisers that we put together, brunches—”
“Got the picture, Mom,” I grumped.
“Good,” she said as she picked her fork up again. “Now tell me more about this boy?”
“He’s nice. He lost his car keys one day. I gave him a ride home. He thanked me the next afternoon by buying me a frozen yogurt. We went to lunch today. We have plans for this weekend.” I shrugged. “Right now, that’s really all there is to tell.”
“Perhaps we can take his parents out to dinner.”
“Did you not hear the part where I said I just met him?” I didn’t want to get into the issue of his parents. Or his foster parents, actually. “Thank you for the offer. But I think it’s way too soon to be doing that.”
She waved a hand at me. “Nonsense. If they just moved to town they would probably appreciate the invite. Particularly if they don’t know many people yet. There’s nothing wrong with a warm greeting.”
I was frustrated because I wasn’t sure if this was an honest attempt to make peace with me, or if it was her way of nosing into my business. It was probably a bit of both.
“In fact, I can make reservations for Sunday night. Sunday nights are quiet. I would imagine they would have that night free.” She smiled at me, her decision clearly made.
“Mom,” I said quietly, “his parents are gone.”
“Where did they go? We can schedule a night when they get back.”
I shook my head. “No. I mean they’re gone. Like Dad.”
Her smile faded into a look of sympathy. “I see.” She paused. “Actually, I don’t understand. You said he just moved here?”
I decided it would be best to get the truth out now. Why hide it?
“He just moved in with a foster family.”
She nodded slowly, as if giving herself ample time to let that little nugget of information sink in.
To my surprise, I realized that we’d actually been having a nice dinner, all things considered. I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to say something that would shatter my opinion of how our evening was going.
I began talking before she had a chance.
“He’s lost both of his parents and I know what that’s like. Eric has no one. At least I have you and the twins.” I said it because it was true but I was also hoping to warm her up a bit.
“Then perhaps we could invite his foster parents to dinner?” she asked with a tight smile.
I wanted to tell her absolutely not. It was too soon. It would be too awkward.
“Maybe. Maybe much, much later.” It was the only concession I was willing to give.
She was willing to take it.
“Sounds lovely,” she said with another smile.
Chapter 8
“Thanks for picking me up,” Eric said as he slid into the passenger seat.
He must’ve been watching for me from a window. He’d opened the front door and trotted down the steps before I even had a chance to put my car in park. I realized this was the first time I’d seen him dressed in normal clothes. At the country club he always had to wear a polo with their logo on it. The same could be said for the landscaping company’s tee shirt. Today he was dressed in baseball shorts, and a tee shirt with the logo of what I thought was maybe a baseball team. His hair was hidden under a baseball cap.
“No problem,” I said.
“The Zierdens have said I can take the truck whenever I want to. I just don’t feel real comfortable driving someone else’s vehicle. I mean, I hardly know them. It’s weird.”
“I always feel a little uncomfortable when I’m driving Phillip’s vehicle,” I admitted. “Did you decide what you want to do?”
“Yeah, actually. I’d like to go to Putter’s.” He paused. “Unless that’s a really unappealing idea.”
I laughed. “You want to go to an amusement park?”
He shrugged. “Unless you have something else in mind?”
“Nope, nothing.” It was just a tiny lie. I hadn’t been sure that Eric would come up with anything. As a backup plan I’d thought we could go to my favorite pizza place. After that, to a movie. The city of Roseville had outdoor movies on Friday nights. It was shown on a big screen. You brought your own blanket and snacks.
But I was open to going to an amusement park.
“It’s not a very big park,” I warned. “They don’t have rides or anything. I think they have bumper boats, a water slide, mini-golf, go-karting—”
“Awesome,” he said. “I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
“Do you want to do anything else?” I asked as I pulled out onto the main road. “Do you want me to show you around town?”
“Sure. Lisa and Tim showed me around my first day here. But I’m sure it was a completely different kind of tour. They drove past the high school, the library, the place they had their first date, the church where they got married. They showed me where they both work. You get the idea.” He stopped and chuckled. “And of course, they showed me the country club, since Lisa had already lined up a job for me.”
“Ah,” I said, “I was wondering how you ended up working at the country club.”
“Lisa thought it was important for me to have a job. She said since it’s summer vacation it would be good if I wasn’t sitting around the house all day. I didn’t mind because I probably would’ve tried to get a job anyway. It’s nice to have a paycheck. Anyhow, she knew someone at the country club. She had the job lined up for me before I got here.”
“That was nice of her,” I offered.
He nodded but didn’t expand his thoughts on his foster mother.
The Zierdens only lived on the edge of town so it didn’t take long before we were in city limits.
“There’s not a lot left to see,” I warned. “I can show you the coffee shop everyone goes to. If you’re hungry we can go out for pizza. There are a lot of pizza places in town but my favorite is this small, family owned one.”
“Sounds good. I can always eat pizza,” Eric admitted.
We drove around for maybe half an hour. It didn’t take long. Roseville was a pretty average sized town. It was small enough that you couldn’t really get lost there, but big enough that you could eat out every day for a month and not have to eat at the same place twice.
Mom had suggested I take Eric to the Firelight Grill. Maybe she was hoping I would scare him away with Waldorf salads or the infinitely more questionable ris de veau. Definitely not the kind of place Eric looked like he wanted to go. Not in his baseball cap and shorts.
I had settled on Papi’s Pizzeria.
It had the clichéd red and white checkered table cloths, dim lighting, and muted background music. The aroma of baking dough, garlic, and tomato sauces clung to the air. It was busy, as it usually was on a Friday night.
Luck was on our side and we were given a back booth.
The waitress seated us, brought us water, and took our pizza order.
We chatted about inconsequential topics until our pizza arrived. Asking about someone’s past is one thing, but asking about it when you know it might be an emotional landmine is completely another. I mentally tiptoed my way into what I knew would be safe conversational territory.
I told Eric what I knew about the teachers at Roseville High School. Who you wanted to avoid irritating, whose class you never wanted to be late for, who gave the most homework. Our fall schedules weren’t out yet but chances were pretty good that we would end up with at least one of our core classes together.
We stopped talking long enough for the waitress to set our pizza down and ask if we needed anything else.
“So what’s your favorite
subject?” I asked.
I watched as he slid a piece of deep dish combination pizza onto my plate.
He raised an eyebrow and laughed at me.
“Do I have to have one?”
“You don’t like school?” I wondered.
He shrugged. “I don’t hate it. But it’s definitely not my favorite place to be. I guess maybe chemistry. I had that last year. I liked doing the labs. How about you?”
“History,” I answered easily. “My dad was a history buff. We used to watch the History Channel for hours on the weekend.” A little pang shot through my heart. We used to watch so much TV because toward the end, he wasn’t able to get around too well.
“Hey,” Eric said, “are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Sometimes it still creeps up on me…that he’s gone. You know?”
He fumbled with a napkin and averted his gaze. “Yeah, I don’t like being reminded of the past, either.”
Time to lighten the mood.
“So, an amusement park, huh?”
* * *
One thing I learned from Eric was that if you want to see a boy smile, cram him into a tiny little go kart. If you want to hear him laugh, let him win.
Okay. Maybe I didn’t let him win. Maybe I just didn’t try quite as hard as I could have. Or maybe he was really good and legitimately kicked my butt, leaving it in the dust.
“What are you going to blame it on this time?” he asked as he ushered me away from the track. “Your go kart was a lemon? A kid got in your way? You didn’t want to make the old lady feel bad by cutting her off?”
“Ha!” I said as I punched him in the arm. “Those were all legitimate reasons!”
“Or you’re just a really pokey, overly cautious driver,” he teased.
Or at least I thought he was teasing.
“Should we get a few more tickets?” I asked. It was dark and the park was lit up with overhead lights. “I should have the chance to redeem myself.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. He frowned. “I’d like to but I need to get home.”
He’d already explained that he had a curfew. It was eleven, an hour earlier than my curfew. The Zierdens told him that they’d be willing to switch it to midnight after he proved he was responsible. He hadn’t looked happy about admitting that. He’d told me that prior to that, he’d never had a curfew in his life.
