“Hayden, this is my mother, Ruthanne Marshall.” I gesture my hand toward Mother. “Mother, this is my campaign manager, Hayden Bennett.”
Hayden holds out a trembling hand, but Mother wraps her in an embrace. Hayden’s hands fall to her side while Mother bear hugs her, and I wish I could see Hayden’s expression. Her body language says she’s not a hugger, which is surprising to me because of her loud and outgoing nature. No, I’ve seen her hug several people. People she had just met. Hayden Bennett is definitely a hugger, the opposite of me.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Hayden. I’m excited to have you as my daughter. You can address me as Ruth. Ruthanne takes me back to my upbringing in Tennessee.” She winks.
I cough, and Hayden shimmies out of Mother’s grasp.Daughter.
“You have a daughter.” Did she forget about Ophelia so easily?
“Anotherdaughter.” Mother smiles sadly. Hayden stands frozen.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Ms. Marshall,” Hayden says with a smile that flickers on and off her face as if she’s glitching.
“Please, call me Ruth.” Mother takes my arm. “He says I was only allowed to introduce myself right now, but I will see you tomorrow bright and early. I will get your number from my son and text you so that you can reach me if you need me.”
Hayden only nods, the obviously fake smile seeming to decide to stay on her face rather than vanish.
“Goodbye, Mother,” I say.
“Text me Hayden’s number.” She kisses my cheek before walking away from us and out of the little coffee shop.
I stand behind the chair Mother was sitting in and pull it out for Hayden. She side-eyes me but sits down. I take my seat across from her at the small, round table.
“Sorry about that. She was here when you called.” I sip my sweetened coffee. “Would you like to order a cup?”
“Yes, please,” she says, standing back up.
“No, sit down. I will get it for you. What do you want?”
Hayden stares at me like I sprouted a tail. “Um, an Americano. No cream or sugar.”
I turn away and head for the counter where the blue-haired barista who looks like he hates his life jots down the order of the person in front of me.
What was that? Hayden, the most outgoing, bubbly person I know, completely shut down meeting my mother. Maybe it was the awkwardness of the situation? Then again, Hayden isn’t one to embarrass easily. No, that woman will talk to herself if there isno one around to talk to. I’ve walked past her office many times and have heard her mumbling to herself.
“Next,” the barista calls in a monotone voice.
I tell him I want a large Americano for the name Hayden. When he asks if he should leave room for cream and sugar, I say no. A little thrill runs through me. For all the things I don’t know about Hayden, at least I know her coffee order now.
“Does this guy do it for you?” Hayden’s sassy voice is at my ear.
I flinch, accidentally knocking into the person behind me. Quickly, I apologize to the older gentleman I about bulldozed and then glare at Hayden, who had approached me from the side without my noticing.
“What do you mean?”
“You were smiling. Does the monotone, blue-haired, anime look excite you?”
The quirk of her brow and the upward pull of her lip tells me she’s joking, and I should retort, but I’m stuck on the fact that I was smiling and didn’t realize it. And I was thinking about Hayden when it happened…
“You know, if you shrunk, lost a little of your bulk, and dyed your hair blue, you’d be just like my friend Kale here.”
How’d she know his name? Oh right, the name tag. I hardly look at those.
Looking Kale over, I realize she’s right. We sport the same blank, slightly irritated facial expression. Our voices share that disinterested tone.
“Friend?”
“This is where I come to getyourcoffee in the mornings since it’s your favorite shop. I know his name, but he doesn’t know mine. I use a different fake name every time I come in.”
