Why is he trying to antagonize her? He’s always the parent pleading for peace and taking fifteen thousand breaths before we say anything. Maybe he’s reached the end of his rope too.
“I might get something else. This is really sweet.” She pushes the thick wax-paper bundle a few inches away over the grooved wood surface but stays tucked on her side of the table.
The park is pleasantly full for a Wednesday. Enough people to keep the trucks making fresh lunch options but not so many that people are forced to eat too close together. A man with his phone clamped between his shoulder and his ear walks by with some sort of curry wrap. A delicious blend of cumin and coriander invades my senses. I glance down at my untouched lunch trying to remember my bigger purpose.
“Why don’t you just say it, Mom?” Erika’s voice is full of glass shards.
For a moment, I think she’s asking me to admit that I lied about what I wanted for lunch, but when I raise my gaze to hers, I know she’s thinking of herself.
“I mean, you’ve come all the way here. It’s not like you even like grilled cheese.” Her mouth hangs slightly open, and she shakes her head at my food.
I take a bite of my pesto panini strip. The flavors are good, butthe heavy-handedness of the butter makes my stomach acids go on high alert.
I pat my mouth with my napkin. “You’re right, I came all the way here for you. I’m worried about you.”
She closes her mouth and raises her chin at me like how dare I worry.
“Well, first, I want to know about the picture.” As I say the words, my mind briefly flashes to the two pictures taken of Lucas and me, and I stupidly say, “The one your dad found.”
Her head tilts as if she’s mentally weighing my words. I don’t dare glance at Clint. I mean, what other picture could I be referring to?
I plow ahead. “Did you take it for yourself or... maybe for someone else you haven’t told us about?”
Something like confusion or even fear flashes in her eyes but is then immediately replaced by a look of part disgust and part detachment. “It was nothing.”
“But it wasn’t nothing.” Clint speaks up, half his lunch gone.
“It was. Gross that you found it.” She shivers. “But it was nothing.”
“And this phone your dad found?” I ask.
Her back straightens, and her eyes light with fire. I see my mistake right away. This is the fight she was expecting and has geared up for.
“You took my phone,” she spews. “What did you expect me to do? I have appointments with students who need help. You act like you have it all together, but you have no idea.”
She knows just how to press me, always has. We only win if I can keep my cool. I reach across the pitted table, but her arm is just out of my grasp. “Then tell me.”
She shakes her head. “I need to get back. I’ve got a lot of work.” She balls up her crinkly paper and pushes up.
Clint lays his splayed fingers on her hand clutching her wadded-up “lunch.”
“What?” Erika keeps her gaze toward the parking lot.
“Watch your tone. And are you going to eat that?”
She dramatically releases her hold. “I’ll be at the car.”
“Wow,” I mutter as she marches away. “I barely recognize her. What is happening?”
After digging into the wreckage, Clint dips a sugared hole in what looks like a creamy caramel sauce. “Seriously good.” He taps on the paper under my sandwich strips. “Don’t let her get to you. I guarantee this has nothing to do with us. Eat up. Little greasy but really good.”
Although I want to rush to our daughter and demand the answers she refuses to share, I take another bite and then another. The tomatoes are fresh, and although I haven’t yet sampled the soup, I’m enjoying my lunch.
“I got something today,” I say with a playful tone.
“Hmm.” Clint swirls another hole in what looks like vanilla.
“Garman Straub is sending us on a vacation.” I wrinkle my forehead in exaggerated confusion.
