“Are you hearing yourself? I lost Nicky, too. I’m sorry I made you worry, but Mati and his family aren’t dangerous. How many times do I have to tell you?”
She makes an exasperated sound and blows right past my point. “You can’t stay out all night, not with that boy—not with anybody!”
“Fine. I get it. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. When I said I didn’t want you to see him, I meant it. Look at the trouble he’s caused. When Audrey told me what she walked in on last night, I just—I couldn’t believe my ears.” She drags a hand over her face, creased with lines of aggravation. “It would’ve been inappropriate no matter who the boy was, butthat boy… It’s as if you’re bound and determined to send me to an early grave.”
I roll my eyes—a splash of gasoline on her already blazing fire. “We were kissing, Mom. Don’t be ridiculous.”
She drops her chin to her chest; I think she’s praying for serenity, or the strength to keep from whacking me with that towel that suddenly looks more like a weapon than a rectangle of linen. “Audrey suggested it was more than a kiss, and while Janie was asleep down the hall. You took advantage of her trust, and then you snuck off to stay the night with him.”
“Are you kidding? This, from the woman who used to let her teenage son and his girlfriend spend time behind a locked door?” I push my hands through my snarled hair, frustration cranking my heartrate higher and higher. “God, Mom! I know you’re stressed and I know you’re angry, but set all that aside. How is Mati and me hanging out at the park any more scandalous than Audrey and Nick having sleepovers in your house?”
She practically growls. “Audrey and Nick were inlove.”
I blink, stunned by her nerve. What I feel for Mati is no less powerful than what Nick felt for Audrey during their early days. All that’s different in my case is Mati’s background, which is completely inconsequential.
I raise a challenging eyebrow. “I’ll ask again: How is my situation with Mati different?”
She inhales sharply. “Don’t you dare. Don’t youdaretell me you’re in love with that boy.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything, because you haven’t asked. You haven’t asked how I feel, or what I’m going through. It’s alwayshow could you do this to me?Orthink of Audrey. Or,we’re moving and you have no say-so.” My voice is so loud, so harsh, I suspect Ryan and Iris can hear me next door. But I don’t care. I’ve needed to say these things for a long time, and now that I’ve let loose, criticisms and accusations andangerare blasting out of me like water from a geyser. I smack my palms against the table. “What aboutme, Mom?”
Bambi low-crawls from her hiding space, creeping out of the room. My mom shakes her head, like she’s trying to jiggle the last twelve hours out of her conscience. “You’re proving you’re not sensible enough for a mature discussion. And besides, you could have come to me. If you’re so desperate for conversation, you could have approached me. Instead, you slink around with someone I’ve asked you to avoid. First, your trip in Sacramento, and now this. Who knows what else you’re keeping from me where he’s concerned.”
A lot, if we’re getting technical—which we aren’t. She hasn’t earned the right to details, a fact that’s overwhelmingly disappointing. “I shouldn’t have to come to you.You’rethe adult.You’rethe mother. You should be present for more than coffee brewing and takeout dinners.”
She stares at me, mournful, as if I’ve wounded her deeply. Then her expression closes off, like invisible shutters have swung over her face, blocking out all signs of emotion. Coolly, she says, “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m taking it. That’s what present mothers do—invoke consequences when their children screw up.” She holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”
“You cannot be serious.” My phone is my link to Mati. We talk every night, and text during the day. Our time together is already limited; surely she won’t sever this tie, too.
“Oh, I’m serious,” she says evenly.
I yank my phone from my pocket and slam it down on her palm. “Happy?”
“Not in the least.”
I push my chair back so hard its feet screech across the hardwood. It topples over, landing with a clatter. I trace Bambi’s escape route but, just before I stalk out of the kitchen, I spin around, look my mother square in the face, and say, “You’ll never keep me away from him.”
elise
After too many hours spent tolerating Mom’s cold shoulder, lamenting the loss of my phone, and scattering hundreds more silver stars across my ceiling, I leave the house with Bambi, headed for Audrey’s. Upset as I still am, I want to make a gesture that might earn me her understanding.
I knock. She opens the door. She frowns. But she lets my dog and me in, which is a start.
Preschool’s out for the day and the TV is on, tuned to the Disney Channel. The cottage smells of pancakes and maple syrup. My stomach gives a hungry grumble.
“Breakfast for lunch?” I ask, overcompensating in the chipper department.
Audrey shrugs. “It was easy.”
“Got any leftovers?”
“Knock yourself out.”
