When we are all seated at the table–Mia included–Mom asks, “So, what’s going on? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a few days.”
“Not much.” I can’t help but let out a big yawn.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” She smiles.
“No, sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Did you hang out with Christie?”
“No, Jo is to blame for my lack of sleep.”
Her eyes threaten to bulge out of her head. I jump back in before she gets the wrong idea.
“Not like that! I went to Giddy Ups with Adam. We ran into Jo. She got drunk. Adam had to leave, so I walked her home where she apologized and then threw up on my shoes.”
“She did what? Why would she do that?”
“Well, she had too much to drink, so she hurled–”
She smacks my hand to cut me off. “Not that! Why did she apologize?”
“For everything. She admitted fault for leaving and said it was a mistake.”
“Wow.” She looks surprised.
“What?”
“I just never figured she’d apologize like that.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like it changes anything.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No,” I answer matter-of-factly even though I’m not so sure anymore.
“Beau, can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re willing to hate this woman for the rest of your life?”
“Isn’t that what you told me I should do?” I ask.
“No, it’s not. And even if it was, when have you ever listened to me?”
“I listen to you.”
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be playing hide the sausage with Christie.”
“Mom!” I cry. “Gross!”
“You’re the one doing it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to call it hiding the sausage.”
“Stop trying to change the subject. Tell me how you feel about this whole situation.”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
She lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh. “Can we skip the back and forth, and you just tell me how you feel?”
“Why are you so sassy this morning? Can I plead the fifth?”
