“Your daughter has just informed me she’s leaving us.”
“It’s not forever, Dad. Six months. Tops.”
“What kind of Hollywood scouting trip takes six months?” Dad asked.
“I’m working with a documentarian in Europe, so there will be a lot of on-location scouting,” I said.
“Is it really going to take you that long?” He narrowed his eyes. “Europe isn’t very big.”
“I’ll be in some pretty remote areas, so I won’t be able to call very often,” I said, ignoring my dad’s comment.
“Teresa,” Mom admonished. “They can’t really expect you to just up and galivant around Europe alone. You’re a beautiful young woman. It’s dangerous.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I’ll be with guides,” I lied.
“Really? The whole time?”
“Probably not. But enough to get the lay of the land. I’ll check in as much as I can. Stop worrying.”
“When do you leave?”
I grimaced. “I leave Tuesday.”
“Then, we better make this dinner count.”
“Mama, I’m not leaving forever.”
She patted my face. “Why does it always seem to feel that way every time you go away?”
I leaned into her touch. “Because you’re my mom and you’re a little dramatic?”
“Impertinent little shit.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I sassed. “Thank you.”
My parents laughed and then I had to pull the rolls from the oven, so it was back to normal as we gathered the food and took it to the dinner table. The rest of the night passed without any issues other than my mother hugging for an extra seventeen minutes at the end before finally letting me leave her house.
I shook off the melancholic warning bell in the pit of my stomach as I drove down their long, winding driveway and away from my childhood home.
Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough. I just hoped it didn’t all blow up in my face.
Again.
Cameron
TWENTY-EIGHT MINUTES later, I entered Waddles Café on 21stStreet and made my way to the booth in the very back where I was to meet Leslie. It was one of five local spots in the rotation and a personal favorite of mine, as they served a killer blackberry cobbler.
“You’re late,” Leslie said, taking a sip of coffee.
“By three minutes,” I replied, taking a seat.
“Three minutes can feel like an eternity when you’re the one who’s waiting. Especially out in the field,” he said, using his ‘handler voice.’
“You missed me that much since our last meeting?” I asked. “I had no idea your feelings for me were so strong.”
“The only strong feeling I have right now is to stick my size thirteen Ferragamo up your ass.”
“Shit, Leslie. How the hell can you afford Ferragamos on a government salary?”
