I check the time. She must have been at the morning Bingo session at the local hall.
I put down the knife, watching her in confusion. Annabelle sits forward on the couch as my mom’s eyes flick between us. She’s bright-eyed and lucid. I can tell immediately that she hasn’t been drinking. Her mouth always pulls down to the right when she’s drunk; it’s usually the only outward sign.
“Who wants pancakes?” she asks excitedly. “We can go out.”
There’s a part of me that wants to reject every attempt she makes at being a real mother. She’s been so woefully inadequate all my life that I want to hate any small offering of ‘mothering’ she sends my way.
But I just want someone to care for me today. I need her support in a way I haven’t in years. I can’t tell Annabelle what I’m doing for a living—but would my mother understand?
Annabelle’s eyes are wide and uncertain. Both women turn to me, as if I’m the de facto approver of my mother’s suggestion.
“Sure, I can drive us,” I say, and my mother gives me this big, wholesome grin I haven’t seen in years, clapping her hands like a schoolgirl.
For a moment, I feel pure joy. I’m going out for breakfast with my sister and my mom, and it feels like we’re a real family again. Annabelle pulls herself to her feet and goes to get ready as I scoop the onions into a bowl and wrap them up to use later.
The pancake place Mom wants to go to is a little drive away. We hardly ever go there because it’s way more expensive than the other diners in the area, but the food is much better as a result. My mom must have won big at bingo, she’s in a crazy good mood.
“Come on, girls, let’s go and have some real food for a change!” she says, laughing as I park.
I glance at Annabelle in my rearview, but she’s already out of the car, linking arms with Mom and walking inside.
I’m conflicted. It’s times like these that it feels as if things aren’t so bad. My desperate need to be away from my parents seems irrational and ungrateful. After all, they’ve put a roof over my head all this time, shouldn’t I be thanking them?
I climb out of the car, heading to the entrance. It’s been renovated since we were last here. A long, green sign declares it to have “the best pancakes in NY!” And at the back, they’ve added a small bowling alley.
The sound of the bowling balls clatters nostalgically in the background and reminds me of my high school days, when bowling was all we could afford to do.
We head to the table, my mom telling Annabelle how good she looks. She must be blind. Annabelle’s eyes are hooded and tired, and she’s leaning heavily on her cane.
I step forward quickly when my mother reaches the table. She’s had her arm linked in Annabelle’s all the way across the restaurant, but, without thinking, she just slides into the booth, letting go of her without warning. Annabelle nearly falls on her ass as her balance is thrown off, and I grab her elbow, steadying her.
“Order whatever you want, girls,” my mom says, pointing to the menu. “I can’t wait to have one of these fancy Nutella waffle thingies. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Settling Annabelle in her seat, I try not to stare at our mother.
What the fuck is going on with her? She’s never this happy.
“Wanna share?” Annabelle whispers to me.
I glance at her as Mom begins humming on the other side of the table. “Aren’t you hungry?” I ask my sister.
Annabelle swallows, shaking her head. Dread trickles down my spine. It’s unusual for her not to be hungry in the morning. So far today, she’s only had a piece of toast.
Annabelle glances at Mom, straightening her spine, as she picks up her menu.
“Apple waffles?” she asks me. “I know they’re your favorite.”
“Get whatever you like,” I say, but she rolls her eyes at me.
“Apple waffles,” she says, turning to Mom decisively, who nods.
“You two girls sit tight, I’ll go order.”
“Actually, I have to pee,” Annabelle says, and I slide out of the booth to let her pass.
“You need me to come with you?” I ask. Annabelle shakes her head as Mom scoots out of her seat and heads to the counter.
I sit at the table, feeling a little bereft, staring at the parking lot. I can smell the waffles cooking from the kitchen, and I allow myself a moment of relaxation as I close my eyes.
