“Blow out the candle and make a wish!” Carole looks at me expectantly. Wax runs down the candle as I overthink my wish. I blow out what’s left of the candle sticking out of my pancake stack. There’s only one wish to be made—peace. Peace, tonight, from the alien. Peace so I can enjoy my evening with PJ. After my birthday, the alien can go back to tormenting me. After my birthday, I can die happy. I know my time is growing short.
“I promised not to say anything, but Simon, you’re going to rot your teeth out with all that sugar. Pancakes and a milkshake for breakfast? How do you stomach it?”
“Perfectly well,” I say, stuffing pancakes, syrup, and whipped cream into my mouth.
Carole laughs and shakes her head as she takes another bite of her mushroom and egg white omelet with fresh fruit cup. Food seems to keep the alien docile, and, by God, I’m going to enjoy these birthday pancakes. Maybe I’ll OD on sugar today and go out with a bang before the alien can get me.
“Well, we should speed things up here and get going,” Carole says, interrupting my manic thoughts. “They say you should be at the airport at least two hours before your flight leaves. If you see the waiter, try to flag him down so we can get the check.”
“Sure thing,” I say as I resume obsessing over tonight. This is supposed to be the most special night of my young life so far. Why am I so worried?
As I drive Carole to Dulles Airport for her trip west to visit her parents, my thoughts wander to a topic that has heavily weighed on my mind recently—my future. I can’t help wondering if I made the right decision about who I should live with. On one hand, Dad is…my dad, and he is finally making an effort to be a parent to me. On the other, Carole has tangibly been there to help me with homework, cook meals, and all the day-to-day stuff that goes into being a parent. But she is not my birth mother, and I have so much lost time to make up with Dad. I hope I made the right choice. Yes! I think I did. Feeling good about my decision, I turn up the volume as we continue listening to Stevie Nicks sing “Edge of Seventeen’’ on repeat.
“Simon, how many times are you going to play this song? Let’s listen to the rest of the album.”
“Nope,” I say. “I’m only on the edge of seventeen once.”
“Ugh! You certainly are your mother’s son, aren’t you? Just as stubborn.”
“Yep,” I reply. “This song will be on repeat until midnight when I actually turn seventeen.”
“So, you already know your mom’s first crush was Lindsay Wagner. Did you know mine was Stevie Nicks? Oh, how I loved the Welsh witch! The way she twirled in shawls with her half-moon tambourine. Woo wee. She was, for sure, my awakening. And she’s still got it too! Have you seen her lately? Wow, she is stunning.” Carole fans herself with her book.
“Eww!” I mock-gag and she bats me on the shoulder with her book.
“Okay, tough guy. Who was your awakening?”
“Carole! That’s personal!” I say, pretending to be scandalized.
“Oh, come on. Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Well, if I have to choose, it’s definitely Tom Holland. You know, Spiderman.”
“Good choice,” Carole says. “He’s a cutie.”
It’s weird talking about crushes with Carole but it’s nice too. Carole is a mother to me, but she is also my friend. It’s truly hitting me now just how lucky I am to have her in my life.
“Carole?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Something’s been on my mind.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“There’s a question that I can’t stop thinking about.”
“Of course, Simon. Ask away.”
“All right. Here goes. What was so important about Mom’s job?” I add air quotes around the word “important.” “It’s all I ever heard: the lab, the lab, the lab.”
Carole casts a nervous glance my way.
“She’s doing important work, you said. We have to be supportive, you insisted. But what was it all about? What kind of lab was it anyway?”
“Oh, Simon.” She exhales a long, defeated breath. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Carole pauses and the anticipation of what comes next gnaws at me like a dog on a bone. “I don’t know what she did. Her work was classified, and she couldn’t even tell me about it. That’s about as much as I know. But there was no lab. That was just the cover story we agreed to tell everyone. I’m so sorry, Simon, I should have told you sooner.”
I gape in disbelief. What else don’t I know about my mom? I swallow hard and turn from Carole, staring at the passing high-rises along the airport toll road. We don’t speak for the rest of the drive.
