“Lunch,” I repeat. The last thing I feel like doing right now is having a meal with my mother, but my empty stomach has other ideas. It growls at the mention of food. When I try to remember the last time I ate something other than instant ramen, I can’t. “No.”
“Jump in the shower. Then we’ll find a spot where I can order a decent salad.”
I squint at her, wondering why she’s talking about salads and not letting me have it. “Okay…”
When I still don’t move, rooted by confusion, she gives an exasperated sigh. “Go, Ivy. It’s nearly one, and I’m starving.”
Leaving my mom alone, I rush through a shower, but when I step back into my bedroom, I find it empty. Not just empty, but considerably cleaner. The dishes are gone, the clothes are piled into the laundry bin, and my bed is perfectly made. My chest pangs as I wonder what this might cost me, and I hurry to get dressed.
“Thanks,” I tell my mom as I emerge into the living area.
She only nods before glancing down at her phone. “Have you been to The Tavern? The menu’s not perfect, but it’ll suffice.”
“Yeah. It’s on the main street in town.”
“Perfect. Let’s go, then.”
Twenty minutes and two tables later (Mom thought the first one was too close to the restrooms), we’re seated in a booth at The Tavern. Mom orders the Cobb salad, chopped, with dressing on the side, and I order chicken fingers and fries. My shoulders are tight with tension as the waitress takes our menus, and I wait for Mom to scold me for ordering something unhealthy. When the admonishment doesn’t come after five minutes, my muscles begin to relax.
As we wait for our food, she talks at me about my brothers and her friends like it’s any other normal day and she didn’t make a special trip up here just to see me. I nod as best I can, but my brain is exhausted from scrambling around in circles, looking for the catch. I don’t have the energy to feign interest the way I usually do, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
They deliver our food, and I pick at my chicken. Mom takes a few bites of lettuce before setting down her fork. She looks at me, and I tense up again.
Here we go.
“What’s been going on with you, Ivy?” she asks carefully. I nibble a fry, not sure how to respond to that question. When the silence lingers, she sighs and folds her hands on top of the table. “I got a notification from the school that you dropped out of one of your classes.”
My stomach twists. I set the half-eaten fry back down on my plate, my appetite dissipating as I wait for the inevitable verbal beating. “Oh.”
“Ohis right. Won’t that damage your GPA?”
I shake my head, staring down at my plate. “It won’t.”
“Well, when Noah dropped a class his scores plummeted?—”
“It’s different than Noah,” I cut in. She raises her eyebrows at me, waiting for me to continue. I shift uncomfortably in the booth. Tap my fingers against my thigh. “The school let me drop it for health reasons. A counselor signed off on it. It won’t affect my grades, and I can take a summer class to make up the credit. It will cost a bit more, and I’m sorry about that.”
I wince, waiting for her to go ballistic over the money aspect, but she doesn’t seem to hear that part. “Health reasons?” Her eyes scan over my face, searching for visible symptoms of illness. “Have you been sick? You look like you’ve lost weight.”
I swallow. “No. Um, mental health reasons.”
Now it’s her turn to be silent. My shoulders slump, and I brace myself for an outpour of protests.
That’s not a real excuse.
We let you major in art, and you can’t even handle that?
The school should have contacted me before letting you drop.
Money doesn’t just grow on trees.
I wait…but she doesn’t say any of those things. Just kind of looks at me, processing what I’ve told her. And then she says the last thing I ever expected her to say. “Is this like before?”
Before.Before could refer to any portion of the last two years. I shrug.
“Well, I spoke to Noah.”
“Noah?” I repeat, confused as to why she’s bringing up the golden child.
