There is no point in arguing with or challenging my mother. My prevailing thought—flashing in neon to plague me with regret—is something she taught me long ago, something I had forgotten about until right this minute. The borrower isalwaysslave to the lender.
NINETEEN
WILDA
After lunch, I run to the cleaners for Haynes’s shirts, and to the grocery to pick up fish for dinner. Once I’m back in my car a cursory glance in my rearview mirror confirms what I already know: My hairdo is shot. If I’d been smart, I would have taken my umbrella into the grocery when I saw the dark cloud in the distance, and my hair would still look okay. I try lifting the roots, but give up. It’s no use. I’ll have to fuss with it again before Haynes gets home.
Rifling through my purse, full of receipts and other superfluous junk, I find my cell phone resting at the bottom. As I call Ellie, Haynes’s voice echoes in my mind. “Try not to call her every time you think about her. Let her be independent. No smothering.”
I hang up, and call Cooper instead.
He’s “temporarily” living in North Carolina, managing the Apple store in Raleigh. He knows that I know he’ll never move back to Memphis, but he won’t admit it. Even though I know he’s at work, I call anyway. It goes straight to voice mail.
So I call Jackson.
He’s in Nashville, where he at least admits he’s never leaving, working asa medical supply rep, and picks up on the first ring. I’m in the middle of breathing a deep sigh of relief at having at least one child to talk to, when he says, “Mom, I’ll have to call you back. I’m only halfway though a report I have to turn in tomorrow, and I’m stalled for words.”
“Can I help you with it? I’m good with words. I made an—”
“A in all your English classes at Ole Miss. You’ve told me a thousand times.”
“Jackson.”
“You wouldn’t get this, Mom. I have to have to call you back.” Then he’s gone.
And I’m empty.
For the first time the thought strikes me in a profound way just how empty I really am. I am officially an empty nester and I don’t know what to do with myself. Maybe Lilith asking me to be on the Advisory Board was no coincidence and rather a gift from God. Rush starts in five weeks and it can’t come fast enough. I’ll get to be in Oxford an entire week.
When I get home to my computer, Ellie’s email is in my inbox. As curious as I am to read Cali’s résumé, I check Facebook first. And I can’t help but get distracted by the Nordstrom ad flashing at me from the right side of my home page for the exact pair of boots I had decided, over a week ago, were entirely too much money. As hard as I try to keep my eyes from floating over to them… I can’t. It’s killing me. How in the world am I not supposed to click on it?
Click.
And I’m drooling at that same pair of boots I shouldn’t have looked at in the first place. And I love them. And dammit, I do want them.
Click.
I add the most adorable pair of booties to my cart in a size 8 and buy them before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. Now the thank-you-for-your-order page is staring me in the face. $215.27 after tax.
But I’m getting free shipping. I convince myself they probably won’t look good anyway, and I can use the free return-shipping option and send them right back. But the only way to know for sure is to try them on. Right?
The phone rings and my face lights up when I see: Ellie. I push the talk button. “How’s it going, El?”
“Hey, Mom. Did you send the rec?”
“I’ve got my computer open right now.” I was so busy buying booties I had forgotten why I was on the computer in the first place.
“Okay, please do it now. We’re counting on you.”
“I’ll call you when I hit send.”
“A text is fine.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, I’lljusttext you.”
Once I pull up Ellie’s email, and Cali’s rec packet is open, I’m happy to see there’s a great close-up picture of the girl, standing in a cotton patch. She’s adorable—not as pretty as Ellie, in my humble opinion, but just as cute as she can be. The second thing that practically leaps off the page is her GPA, and rightfully so. She has a 4.20. And a 32 on her ACT. My goodness, this girl is brilliant.
As I scroll down the page I learn she was valedictorian of her class at Blue Mountain High School and class president as well. She’s in the National Honor Society, belongs to the Methodist church, has done loads of volunteer work—including several mission trips with her church—and works for the Daisy Chain Gift Shop in Blue Mountain. She’s even an interpreter for the deaf and hard of hearing. On the second page I learn she ran cross-country for four years and plays the piano. What’s not to like? What about this girl is not perfect Alpha Delt material?
