"Hi, Mom," I sing, sticking my phone to the magnetized mount so I can drive.
"Hi, honey. How was your day?"
"Good! Busy." The car kicks to life, and I back out of my spot.
"You must be. You're at work late."
"There's always a ton to do. I'm sure I'll be working late a lot, but I don't mind. I'm too excited to mind."
She chuckles, her smile soft and pretty. Everyone says we look alike, but I only see it a little when she wears her reading glasses. Big brown eyes, button nose, and a wide mouth. We look like cartoon characters. Babies love us. But where Mom is gorgeous, I'm just cute. There's not enough eyeliner in the world to change that.
"Well, don't work too hard. Don't want to get burned out. You don't work when you get home, do you?"
"Not if I can help it, though sometimes I goof around with this design program where I make fliers and stuff for school."
"Take tonight off! Have a bubble bath and read a book or something."
"Oh, I'm not working tonight! I'm actually headed to happy hour to meet Cass and her friends."
Boom, there's her frown, all worried and a little bit judgy. "At a bar?"
"Yes, Mom. At a bar. That I've been to. At least a dozen times."
"You're not drinking though, are you?"
My sigh is heavy and does little to vent my irritation. "No, but I will at some point, I'm sure."
"I just don't see why you need to. Especially if you're driving."
"Well, first of all, I wouldn't drink and drive. And secondly, I'm a human being on planet Earth. I'd like to get drunk at least once. It's called living!" I'm cheery as all get out. I learned young that it's hard for them to fight with somebody who's smiling and practically singing their sentences.
It's her turn to sigh. "I guess that's fair enough. Will you let me know when you do?"
"Absolutely not," I say on a laugh. "You'll worry yourself sick. But I promise to tell you all about it after."
Her face is still all quirked, her nose wrinkled and lips downturned.
"Mama, tell me--did you do your very best raising me?"
"Of course, sweetie," she answers softly. "Everything I've done since you were born was with you in mind."
That's part of the problem. "Right. And did you teach me right from wrong? About integrity and empathy?"
"I hope so."
"You put the very best head on my shoulders that you could. Didn't you?"
"I did."
"Then you've gotta trust me. I'm not a kid. I'm not in high school, Mama--I'm twenty-four. What were you doing at twenty-four?"
"I was pregnant with you."
"Exactly. You were almost amother. I think I have the good sense to handle having a drink."
This time when she sighs, it's resigned. "I know. You're right. I just thought it'd be easier, I guess. I hate that you moved so far away."
"It's three hours. Not so far."
