Miss Behave (The Anderson Family Series Book 1)

by Traci Highland

  “What?” Did I just hear that right? Surely not.

  Her eyes dart around the restaurant and she leans over the table, clutching her cloth napkin between her hands. “Honey, I need to know, are there any panties in your purse?”

  “Mom, are you feeling okay? If you’re sick I’m more than happy to drive you-“

  “Just answer the question!” Her eyes are wild now, like a rabid monkey.

  “What?”

  She slams her fist down on the table.

  The silverware, the plates and I jump.

  “Hey girls, sorry that took so long.” Derek pulls the chair out from the table and I stare at my mother. Her nostrils flared, eyes full of Thor-like rage.

  Lunch just went from bizarre to full-on Monty-Python. Derek and Mom chat away and I look down at my salad, croutons swimming away in a sea of champagne vinaigrette.

  Did mom really just demand to know the color of my underwear? I don’t think that I mixed up the Ibuprofen with the sleep aid this morning. So what-

  Oh my God.

  Heat drains from my face.

  It’s incontinence, isn’t it?

  Maybe Mom wet herself. Must be embarrassed half to death, in a restaurant like this. Ack! The chairs are upholstered! How are we going to get out of this? If she gets up and goes to the bathroom, Derek will notice the stained chair.

  Derek babbles on about what life is like in Chicago and Mom’s gaze shifts between me and my purse. I shake my head no to let her know that I have no extra panties in my purse. Maybe I can slip her a napkin beneath the table?

  A napkin just won’t do, though. I need something… something… more.

  Mom narrows her eyes and I shrug only to find Derek staring rather oddly in my direction. Derek clearly can’t know about Mom’s leakage issue. Maybe I can distract him and let her make a mad-dash to the restroom?

  He blinks and I focus my attention on him, giving him what I’m certain is a radiant smile. After a brief pause, he continues. “You understand that it’s a tough sell to hire anyone who is not actually from Chicago.”

  “I don’t see why.” Mom taps her fingers on the edge of the table and I pull my napkin from my lap, shoving it under the table towards her.

  She doesn’t catch on.

  I push it against her knee. C’mon, mom, take the napkin.

  Rubbing it back and forth against both knees now, she still doesn’t catch on.

  Derek says, “Well, a native Chicagoan is going to have a greater knowledge of the beating heart of the city-“

  “Not true. Ask me anything. Whatever I don’t know on paper, I guarantee I can learn on the ground lickety-split.”

  My pulse beats hot against my wrist as I wiggle the damn thing practically onto my mother’s thigh. Take it!

  Derek’s plastic face widens into a wobbly grin. “So, who’s the mayor?”

  I rattle off a name.

  He sits politely with one hand on his lap and the other pushing his pasta around his plate. Next he asks me to name the members of the city council and some of the hot topics of the upcoming session. I answer all la-dee-da and mom please take the stupid napkin! My forearms ache as I answer his next round of questions. I may not live in Chicago, but I’ve done my homework. I know each neighborhood on paper as if it were my own.

  By the time our main course arrives at the table he stares at me in a quiet sort of way, which would be great, except that all I can think about is why on earth mom isn’t taking my offered napkin. Fine. Maybe a napkin won’t help, maybe she needs a new pair of panties that she inexplicably thinks must reside in my purse.

  Do they sell those old people pee panties around here anywhere? I have to get some, quick, her face is now redder than a grandma at a frat party. There must be a pharmacy nearby. I squeeze her leg in support. Poor mom, if she can just hold tight maybe I can run-

  Mom stands up slaps Derek across the face.

  The sound echoes around the table. His face pale, my stomach sinks. Oh my God, Mom, no-

  “I’m not sure who you think you are dealing with or what you assume I’m willing to do to get my daughter a job, but I assure you, I’m not the kind of girl that’s going to let a man I haven’t seen in over thirty years squeeze my thighs like I’m some kind of… kind of-”

  “Mom, I think-“

  “What are you talking about? I would never-“

  “You were squeezing my thigh under the table! First the panties, now this-“

  He stammers and now he’s a brilliant shade of vermillion. Truly a spectacular color. The waiter stops about two feet from the table, the dessert menus hanging limply from his hand.

  Through a dry throat, I say, “Mom, wait-“

  Derek stands, his fists shaking. “If this is some kind of ploy to exploit me for money-“

  “Why the hell would I do that?“

  I grip my napkin in both hands and whisper, “It was me.”

  Derek says, “I should’ve known that there was something more to this than-“

  “More to this than what?” Mom snaps, her cheeks burning.

  “Guys, it was me.”

  Derek bangs his fist on the table, porcelain settings giving little jumps of protest. “You were always a little minx, I should have known that there was some ulterior motive-“

  “A minx!” Mom shouts, drawing every head in the restaurant around like gawkers at a train wreck. “You stole my underwear and stuffed it inside a ceramic beaver!”

  I cough.

  Oh my God, I think Derek may be having a stroke. He sputters, dribble the only thing that successfully leaves his mouth.

  I stand. “Well, we’re going to leave now. Derek, it was a pleasure. Mom, c’mon.”

  They don’t make any sign that they’ve hear anything I’ve said, the maître-d attempting to mediate before either goes into cardiac arrest and ruins the lunch of other, less-insane patrons. I approach the man at the cash register and pay the bill as they stand around arguing. Leaving a big tip, I assure the man that he won’t actually have to call the police.

  Gathering our things from the coat check, I grab my mother by the arm and pull her, seething, away from Derek and slip out into the brisk air, wanting it to wash the memory of lunch away on the wind.

  She stammers. “To think he hasn’t changed a bit. Grabbing my leg like I’m some kind of-“ Her face falls as she gets lost in the thought.

  And then she cries.

  Oh, no. “Mom, c’mon, he didn’t think anything, let’s just go.”

  I should’ve known that this would be a disaster. Relying on my mother to help bring pieces of my life together is a ridiculous thing to have even hoped for. Mom may have been able to glue herself and my sisters back together after dad left, but me, well, I’m that nasty bit of broken china that slips under the couch. Lost. Irreparable.

  Mom chokes as she slides the coat on over her shoulders. “He’s right.” Her voice is soft, like a whisper, carried away as soon as its spoken by the sharp Boston breeze.

  “What? He’s just a moron. Where are you parked?”

  “No” –she pulls me to a stop on the sidewalk, her eyes wet with tears- “he’s right. I am, I’m not, I-“

  “What?” My stomach tightens. Is she okay? I’ve never seen her look so pale, and crying in public is not something she does. Ever.

  “Phil is not your father.”

  I blink. Her words hit my head like a fish hits a pumpkin. “Are you feeling okay? Seriously. Because you’re scaring me.”

  She’s sick. Her color is completely off and her legs tremble. I look her in the eyes, trying to gauge if I can have her walk off whatever this ailment is or if I should call an ambulance. Delirium is not okay.

  “I’m fine, Piper, I just, I haven’t told you and you need to know. Phil is not your father. Ted is. And he has cardiac issues darling so you need to tell your doctor.”

  My legs wobble and rage, rage like I’ve never felt rises up and out of my stomach. “Dammit! What the hell are you
playing at? I don’t get your games, okay? I don’t know what you’re trying to do but this isn’t funny.”

  “No, it’s not funny. But it’s true. Phil went away before you were born and it was over. I knew it was over and that I had to leave him. I considered us to be separated, God only knows that he’d had more affairs than I could count, I was waiting until he came back to make it official. Please don’t judge Ted. I told him that we were separated and soon to be divorced, and Ted was always so good to you girls and had quickly become my very best friend. But then Phil came back and he was charming and wonderful and making all these promises.” Her eyes go distant. “I should’ve known better, but I loved him, I loved them both, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  I take a step back, shaking my head to try and dislodge the information from my brain, from my reality. Opening my mouth I have a thousand things to say, to ask, but all that comes out is one word. “No.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but Phil loved you. Adored you, like he was trying to prove to himself that you were his, and I couldn’t do that to either of you.”

  “Until now.”

  “Yes, until now.” She looks up at me, her eyes full of hope and despair and asks, “Forgive me?”

  She turns my entire world on its ass and I’m supposed to tell her that everything is okay? She’s not getting off that easily. I squeeze my lips together and turn around.

  I walk to the car and don’t look back.

  Chapter 18

  Missing in Action

  Dear Miss Behave,

  My sister has recently taken up mud wrestling. I am all about mud baths, but wrestling? How do I tell her to get a new hobby?

  Sincerely,

  Clean Freak

  Dear Miss Freakenstein,

  You’re not my mother, are you? Because I have an auntie that I suspect is a closet mud wrestler. Anyhow, darling, the best course of action here is to make like a pig and get down with the dirt, cupcake!

  This sort of thing builds character and will provide you with blackmail for a lifetime! Giddy-up, buttercup, and don’t forget to take pictures.

  Sincerely,

  -Miss Behave

  After a half box of tissues and pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, I was able to call and tell Hunter about mom and dad and Ted and Derek and the underwear. He listened and comforted like an old pro, and has made it his personal mission to cheer me up by texting me ways in which the situation could have been worse.

  Your mother could have broken the news to you on the Jerry Springer Show.

  And

  Your mother could have stuck Derek with her EpiPen.

  And

  Your father could have been the Hulk.

  I sigh as I scroll through the list and tuck my phone back into my bag, realizing that none of the parentage thing really matters. Phil will always be my father, blood or not. And Ted will also always be my father in the kind and quiet way that he always has been. I still love them both.

  It’s my feelings for my mother that I’m wrestling with.

  But now it’s time to deal with the horror at hand. I’m sitting across a café table from Dad and Mrs. Brookes.

  None of us are speaking, we’re just sitting together, pretending to drink coffee. Until dad breaks the silence saying, “This Grind N Brew is just lovely, don’t you girls think?”

  I nod and Mrs. Brookes rolls her eyes and checks her phone.

  Dad tries again, “Are you busy after this, BabyGirl, because you know what would be fun? Maybe you could give Piper and me a tour of the shop, Bunny? You know, a special, behind-the-scenes sort of thing that the public doesn’t get to see.”

  Mrs. Brookes, peeking up from her phone, gives me the power death-stare.

  I say, “No, Dad, sorry, I can’t. I have to get to a high school lacrosse game and then a swim meet.” Should I tell him? Tell him that I know he’s not my actual father?

  “Just run a stat box and be done with it.” Dad says with such hope it sort of hurts.

  God, it would break his heart if he knew, wouldn’t it? I twirl the napkin in my hands.

  “I like covering the games. The kids play hard and deserve to have a nice-“

  “She can’t do it, Phil, leave her be.” Mrs. Brookes huffs and then stands. “Nice seeing you, Piper.”

  “Oh Bunny, there’s no rush-“

  “There is. Piper has to get back to work and we have an appointment.”

  Appointment? Oh how I hope that’s not a code word for sex.

  I hug Dad goodbye and Mrs. Brookes and I nod at each other, and then they’re gone.

  Mom stares at me from across the table at Pedro’s. She’s pushing her chili-chicken avocado salad around her plate like the tomatoes formed some piece of a painting she couldn’t quite see. “Piper, I’m sorry about my behavior in the restaurant with Derek.”

  I blink.

  Once.

  Twice. My hands shake.

  I don’t know where to go with-

  “I’ve never understood you, honey. I wish I did. I’ve tried, I have, but I feel like after your father left that you sort of, well, shut me out. And I didn’t know how to get in. I’m sorry. For that, for lunch with Derek, for everything.” Tears ripen and fall in big fat plumps down her cheek.

  My throat dries.

  She dabs at her eyes with a corner of napkin, careful not to smear mascara into her eyeball. “I wanted so badly to help you, to get you the job that you wanted, to be the mother I could never be-“

  “Mom” –I grab her hand across the table- “I’ve never gone hungry, always knew that you and Ted would be there for me if I needed you-“

  “It’s not enough. I want something real between us, Piper. And I’ve ruined it by keeping the truth from you. When we were snooping around campus, that was, well, it was fun. I want to get to know you, the real you, and now I’ve gone and slapped your chances at the job of your dreams goodbye.”

  Job of my dreams. I blink back the sting in my eyes.

  Mom stares at me, waiting for me to say something. I let go of her hand, and with cold fingers pick up my fork and shove a huge bite of organic chicken mole into my mouth.

  I can’t tell her that it’s alright, because it’s not. I don’t know if I can forgive her. Not now. Not yet, not maybe ever.

  Stupid moms and stupid feelings.

  Mom places her fork and knife down on the table, making sure each one forms a perfect X across her plate.

  “I’ve lost my appetite, it seems.” Mom places her hands in her lap and a rigid, broken smile blooms beneath her watery eyes.

  Choking on the mole, I swallow a big gulp of water as mom signals for the check.

  After getting the text from Aunt Elise I drive over there, my stomach doing its best washing machine impersonation. She’s going to yell at me for being tough on mom, I can feel it. By the time I knock on Aunt Elise’s door I’m almost certain that I’m going to vomit.

  She answers the door, looks me up and down and snaps, “What’s wrong with you? You need some food?”

  “No, I just, what’s going on?” I follow as she ushers me into the hall, careful to take off my coat without knocking over the gazillion knick-knacks on the shelves.

  She sighs and purses her lips, leading me back into the kitchen, where I find Ted sitting in front of a plate of uneaten coffee cake. The smells of cinnamon and cream and sugar hit me and I lick my lips, despite the ache in my stomach.

  What do I do? Do I call him dad? Do I say something, like, hey, I hear you make up half of my gene pool, how about that?

  He rises and pulls me into a hug before I can overthink it. “Sweetheart, I was so worried about how you must be handling the news. I want you to know that I love you and your sisters with all of my heart, always have and always will.”

  “Did you know?” My voice squeaks against his shoulders and I push back a bit, worried about squeezing someone who just had heart surgery.

  “Ann told me after we were
married. I encouraged her to tell everyone else but you know your mother.”

  “An uptight pain in the ass.” Aunt Elise adds as she dishes me up a plate of coffee cake and sets it down in front of an empty chair.

  I break the embrace and wash my hands at the sink before sitting, my chest already feeling a bit lighter. Thank God Ted is so consistent in his patience. A gift no one else seems to share. “I met with Mom for lunch today, she asked me to forgive her and it was just, well, weird. I don’t know what to do.”

  “She loves you both, that should be what matters, right?” Ted says, picking up his fork and pushing around a few crumbs.

  “Why did she keep this from us, though? I don’t get it.” I say as I take a bite.

  “Annie’s always been so damned worried about appearances. Drives me nuts. Like I would judge her. Like I would turn her away.” Aunt Elise’s face hardens as she speaks, her posture stiff against the soft colors of the country kitchen. “I thought she knew better than that.”

  “Do we tell Dad?” I wince. “I mean, Phil.”

  “I don’t give a damn about Phil, I’m worried about your mother.” Elise’s words are clipped. “It’s all mom’s fault. She beat it into us from the time we were kids.”

  “Beat what into you?” Ted asks, his voice mild.

  “Being the poor girls in a rich girls town. We had to be not just as good as everyone else, we had to be better. I never bought into any of that crap, hated having to go to church where all those snooty kids judged your shoes, hated having to look good all the time, to get better grades than everyone else. But Annie” –she pushes her plate away- “she took it all to heart. Internalized each and every rumor, each and every jibe, it’s like she tried to be so good that there wouldn’t be any rumors. Then she has a rough time of it and acts like a human being for once, flawed and imperfect like the rest of us, and she’s afraid there’s a whole mass of people waiting around to judge her.”

  “And imagine, the only person not speaking to her over the whole affair is you,” Ted says, stuffing his mouth full of cake and meeting Elise’s eyes. “The cake is delicious, by the way.”