I’m talking about
my
problem here,” I said, in an attempt to get her back on the subject.
“I know. I am, too. I mean, Matt and I seem to be worlds apart—him being popular and me being smart—and yet here we are.”
Do I point out that neither I, nor my mother, nor my problem were anywhere in that sentence?
“By the way, I’m going to be late to math lab this afternoon.” She lowered her voice. “I want to drop by track practice. I love ogling Matt’s legs in shorty shorts.” A secretive smile creased her lips.
“Yeah, umm, cool. And thanks for listening to me go on about my problem with my mom.”
“No prob. What are friends for?”
Riight.
That afternoon when I got home from school, Armando stopped by. My mother wasn’t due home for a few hours, but he wanted to surprise her by dropping off her favorite flowers—peonies—and have them sitting on the table in the foyer when she got home. How thoughtful.
“So, my mom tells me you guys are an item.” My voice rang with fake cheer.
“Yes, yes,” he said. His turned serious. “But do not worry. I am not trying to compete with you. It is clear you are your mother’s heart, and that is how it should always be.”
I know he was trying to make nice and let me know he wouldn’t try coming between us, but his easy way and sexy accent did nothing to ease my mind. I heard myself say: “I’m not worried. I’m happy. I mean it’s good for me, too. I’ve always wanted to have someone to go to the father-daughter dance with.” This was true. When I was much younger, I had dreams of my father returning and going to the dance with me on his arm.
I didn’t plan on going to any father-daughter affair with Armando. I knew that a handsome playboy like him could not possibly be interested in children. So, of course, I reminded him when he decided to date my mother, that’s just what he was getting. I know. It was horrible of me. But it wasn’t planned. The words just tumbled out of me like a row of dominos. And once the first one fell, the others couldn’t help but follow.
“Father-daughter dance?”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go, but I never had a… you know.” I left the unspoken word,
father,
floating between us.
“What an honor,” Armando suddenly said. “You would take
me
to this dance?”
“Umm… Sure.”
“I would love to go. No. I would be
honored
to go. When is it?”
He seemed way too sincere. There was laughter in his eyes.
Is he teasing me?
“Umm… In the fall. I guess we missed this year’s.” My confidence in the plot was fading fast.
“I guess we did. Too bad. Maybe next year, huh?” There seemed to be a hidden taunt just beneath the surface.
He is teasing me.
“Yeah. I’ll let you know when,” I said, my voice withering.
His laughing eyes dove into my soul. “You do that. In the meantime, do you mind finding a nice vase for these flowers?”
My cheeks blushed red hot. I was so embarrassed by what I’d done, I wanted to run from the room and hide. “No problem. Why don’t you help me pick one out.”
“My pleasure.”
The first thing my mother saw when she walked through the door was the flowers.
“They’re beautiful!” she cried. “How did he know how much I love peonies? Did you tell him?”
“Nope, wasn’t me.” I was still reeling from my earlier embarrassment. “You probably told him yourself and forgot.”
“No. We’ve discussed a million things, but never flowers. I have to call and thank him. He is so special.” She snatched up the phone, and began punching in his number.
At the time, I didn’t think anything of how Armando came to know so much about my mother. Looking back, I wish I had.
Chapter Ten
That night I had another dream. I again thought I heard someone in my room.
I sat up, suddenly wide awake. Through the darkness the digital clock winked silently back at me. 3:30 a.m. The room was empty, a collage of familiar shadows, everything in its
my
problem here,” I said, in an attempt to get her back on the subject.
“I know. I am, too. I mean, Matt and I seem to be worlds apart—him being popular and me being smart—and yet here we are.”
Do I point out that neither I, nor my mother, nor my problem were anywhere in that sentence?
“By the way, I’m going to be late to math lab this afternoon.” She lowered her voice. “I want to drop by track practice. I love ogling Matt’s legs in shorty shorts.” A secretive smile creased her lips.
“Yeah, umm, cool. And thanks for listening to me go on about my problem with my mom.”
“No prob. What are friends for?”
Riight.
That afternoon when I got home from school, Armando stopped by. My mother wasn’t due home for a few hours, but he wanted to surprise her by dropping off her favorite flowers—peonies—and have them sitting on the table in the foyer when she got home. How thoughtful.
“So, my mom tells me you guys are an item.” My voice rang with fake cheer.
“Yes, yes,” he said. His turned serious. “But do not worry. I am not trying to compete with you. It is clear you are your mother’s heart, and that is how it should always be.”
I know he was trying to make nice and let me know he wouldn’t try coming between us, but his easy way and sexy accent did nothing to ease my mind. I heard myself say: “I’m not worried. I’m happy. I mean it’s good for me, too. I’ve always wanted to have someone to go to the father-daughter dance with.” This was true. When I was much younger, I had dreams of my father returning and going to the dance with me on his arm.
I didn’t plan on going to any father-daughter affair with Armando. I knew that a handsome playboy like him could not possibly be interested in children. So, of course, I reminded him when he decided to date my mother, that’s just what he was getting. I know. It was horrible of me. But it wasn’t planned. The words just tumbled out of me like a row of dominos. And once the first one fell, the others couldn’t help but follow.
“Father-daughter dance?”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go, but I never had a… you know.” I left the unspoken word,
father,
floating between us.
“What an honor,” Armando suddenly said. “You would take
me
to this dance?”
“Umm… Sure.”
“I would love to go. No. I would be
honored
to go. When is it?”
He seemed way too sincere. There was laughter in his eyes.
Is he teasing me?
“Umm… In the fall. I guess we missed this year’s.” My confidence in the plot was fading fast.
“I guess we did. Too bad. Maybe next year, huh?” There seemed to be a hidden taunt just beneath the surface.
He is teasing me.
“Yeah. I’ll let you know when,” I said, my voice withering.
His laughing eyes dove into my soul. “You do that. In the meantime, do you mind finding a nice vase for these flowers?”
My cheeks blushed red hot. I was so embarrassed by what I’d done, I wanted to run from the room and hide. “No problem. Why don’t you help me pick one out.”
“My pleasure.”
The first thing my mother saw when she walked through the door was the flowers.
“They’re beautiful!” she cried. “How did he know how much I love peonies? Did you tell him?”
“Nope, wasn’t me.” I was still reeling from my earlier embarrassment. “You probably told him yourself and forgot.”
“No. We’ve discussed a million things, but never flowers. I have to call and thank him. He is so special.” She snatched up the phone, and began punching in his number.
At the time, I didn’t think anything of how Armando came to know so much about my mother. Looking back, I wish I had.
Chapter Ten
That night I had another dream. I again thought I heard someone in my room.
I sat up, suddenly wide awake. Through the darkness the digital clock winked silently back at me. 3:30 a.m. The room was empty, a collage of familiar shadows, everything in its
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