It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Took you long enough,” I joke, breaking the silence. “My insides were getting rearranged.”
“You three”—he jabs his thumb behind him—“out.”
The trio bolt towards the exit. They know better than to challenge Duke.
“You good?”
“Right as rain,” I reply, wiping the back of my hand across my bloody nose.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, kid.”
Story of my fucking life.
A few months later
I doze off to “Wicked Games” blasting from my cell phone’s speaker. The intense lyrics speak to my soul and stir fire in my veins. It’s a tragic story about heartbreak, sex, and drugs. It’s scary how love can send a person spiraling towards self-destruction.
Bright light floods my bedroom. I roll over and see my mom standing in the doorway. She’s radiant in a turquoise wrap dress and matching heels. A self-proclaimed fashionista, I chose the ensemble. The color complements her aqua-blue eyes and shoulder-length, silky blond curls. Mom is thirty-eight but doesn’t look a day over thirty. She has the physique of a model with her five-foot-nine frame, flawless golden skin, and pouty pink lips.
She is aging gracefully.
I sit up and turn the volume down. “How was your date?”
“Fantastic.” She beams and lifts her left hand, flashing a shiny engagement ring. “We’re getting married.”
I jump to my knees and wave my hands frantically. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
She bustles across the room and perches on the edge of my bed. “I’m so happy.”
Mom and Michael met at a teachers’ convention two summers ago. They’re hot and heavy, even though their relationship is long distance. He lives in West Virginia and we call the Golden State home. Their unconventional courtship worked by keeping in constant communication via phone calls, texts, and video chats.
And since they’re both teachers, it’s easy for them to visit each other during breaks. Michael arrived in Los Angeles two weeks ago. He’s renting an apartment for the summer. Mom stays there most days. I’m not bothered by it. They need quality time together.
Michael is an awesome guy, and he treats me like a daughter. He doesn’t have children of his own. I couldn’t ask for a better man for my mom. This is a second chance at love for him too. He tragically lost his wife to cancer.
“Congratulations,” I squeal, giving her a hug. “Let me see the bling-bling.” I grab her hand to inspect the ring more closely.
The huge sparkling diamond is set in a gleaming white gold band, a half dozen smaller gems surround it.
“It’s absolutely beautiful. Where did he propose?”
“The Getty Center.We ate dinner, then strolled through the garden. He got down on one knee and took me by complete surprise.”
“Aww, how romantic.”
“I didn’t think I could love another man again.” Tears glitter in her eyes.
“You deserve this, Mom.”
“Thank you for always being supportive. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after your father died. It was selfish to abandon you and wallow in grief.”
Mom and Dad had an epic love story. They were the perfect couple and the envy of all their friends. My parents met while attending college in Maryland, Dad’s home state.
Mom was in her junior year, and Dad, his last.
He was a hottie with his six-foot-five football player’s build, mahogany skin, and espresso-brown eyes.
