would have thought Mom was drunk, but she didn’t smell like alcohol.
“What’s
the matter?” I said, dropping my marker and going over to Mom. “Did I say
something?”
“Oh,
Sam,” Mom cried. “I really screwed up. I thought going to AA was enough. I
thought that’s all I needed to show that I was responsible, that I was a good
parent, but your father…he was able to get the judge to grant him custody of
Nydia. As soon as the divorce is final, Nydia will be going with him.”
It
was my turn to get weepy now. If it’s one thing that can do that despite all my
resolve and will to keep a “stiff upper lip” as the British called it, it was
Nydia. I protected her like she was my own daughter. I would protect her with
my life. “Mom, don’t cry,” I said, crying myself. “The judge can’t separate you
from Nydia. Nydia needs her mother, and you’re not a bad mother, Mom.” I
swallowed. Did I mean that?
For
several years I’ve resented my mother for being flaky, flighty, and I guess
downright fun instead of strict and forbidding like the other mother from
church I’ve grown used to. Yes, she was drunk sometimes, and yes, she had a
drinking problem, but when it came to Nydia and me, she was always there.
Perhaps not always functioning…oh, what was I trying to say? She did, however,
raised me to be the fully-grown young woman I turned out to be, without me
having to be in rehab or in jail…
“Do
you really mean that?” Mom echoed my own thoughts and doubts.
“Yes,”
I nodded. “Mom, you’re not perfect, but you’re alright.”
Mom
wiped her tears with her sleeve and opened her arms. “Aww, come here, Baby!”
She hugged me and kissed me on my cheek. “You always know what to say, you’re
so smart, Sam. How did I get so lucky to be your mother?”
“Now
don’t make me cry, Mom…Collins will be here any minute, and I don’t want to
have to wash my face from smeared mascara now…”
“You
don’t wear mascara,” Mom said. “Your long lashes are naturally that long,
thick, and curly. Come to think of it, you don’t wear much makeup at all.” She
played with my hair, already getting into her favorite Mommy mode, dressing her
daughters up, like they were her dolls or something. Even at my age…
“Where
is Collins taking you?” Mom asked, coyly. She went to my closet to try to pull
out something of mine that she can dress me up in, but opened it to reveal all
the clothes were gone, packed away in boxes the night before, right after I
returned home from my dinner with Gail and Collins, too wired from everything,
from seeing Collins, from getting downright sexy with Collins, and from finding
out about Gail, that I couldn’t sleep.
“To
check out apartments,” I said. “He’s helping me move, himself.”
“Isn’t
he a billionaire?” Mom asked. “Why doesn’t he just hire someone…”
“Mom,
that’s not the point,” I said. “Just because he’s got money, and lots of it,
doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to experience it himself.”
“But…he
doesn’t have to,” Mom said. “He can avoid all that back breaking work, and…”
Right
when she was about to go into her lecture on the best use of time and money,
the doorbell rang. At the same time, my phone buzzed, and I saw a text from
Collins fly across.
CollinsM:
I’m out in front. You decent or do I have the pleasure of seeing and tasting
your sweet skin so early in the morning again
“Collins’
here!” I said, straightening my white lace soft shift dress, and slipping on my
red mule sandals. I ran to the door, and practically jumped
“What’s
the matter?” I said, dropping my marker and going over to Mom. “Did I say
something?”
“Oh,
Sam,” Mom cried. “I really screwed up. I thought going to AA was enough. I
thought that’s all I needed to show that I was responsible, that I was a good
parent, but your father…he was able to get the judge to grant him custody of
Nydia. As soon as the divorce is final, Nydia will be going with him.”
It
was my turn to get weepy now. If it’s one thing that can do that despite all my
resolve and will to keep a “stiff upper lip” as the British called it, it was
Nydia. I protected her like she was my own daughter. I would protect her with
my life. “Mom, don’t cry,” I said, crying myself. “The judge can’t separate you
from Nydia. Nydia needs her mother, and you’re not a bad mother, Mom.” I
swallowed. Did I mean that?
For
several years I’ve resented my mother for being flaky, flighty, and I guess
downright fun instead of strict and forbidding like the other mother from
church I’ve grown used to. Yes, she was drunk sometimes, and yes, she had a
drinking problem, but when it came to Nydia and me, she was always there.
Perhaps not always functioning…oh, what was I trying to say? She did, however,
raised me to be the fully-grown young woman I turned out to be, without me
having to be in rehab or in jail…
“Do
you really mean that?” Mom echoed my own thoughts and doubts.
“Yes,”
I nodded. “Mom, you’re not perfect, but you’re alright.”
Mom
wiped her tears with her sleeve and opened her arms. “Aww, come here, Baby!”
She hugged me and kissed me on my cheek. “You always know what to say, you’re
so smart, Sam. How did I get so lucky to be your mother?”
“Now
don’t make me cry, Mom…Collins will be here any minute, and I don’t want to
have to wash my face from smeared mascara now…”
“You
don’t wear mascara,” Mom said. “Your long lashes are naturally that long,
thick, and curly. Come to think of it, you don’t wear much makeup at all.” She
played with my hair, already getting into her favorite Mommy mode, dressing her
daughters up, like they were her dolls or something. Even at my age…
“Where
is Collins taking you?” Mom asked, coyly. She went to my closet to try to pull
out something of mine that she can dress me up in, but opened it to reveal all
the clothes were gone, packed away in boxes the night before, right after I
returned home from my dinner with Gail and Collins, too wired from everything,
from seeing Collins, from getting downright sexy with Collins, and from finding
out about Gail, that I couldn’t sleep.
“To
check out apartments,” I said. “He’s helping me move, himself.”
“Isn’t
he a billionaire?” Mom asked. “Why doesn’t he just hire someone…”
“Mom,
that’s not the point,” I said. “Just because he’s got money, and lots of it,
doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to experience it himself.”
“But…he
doesn’t have to,” Mom said. “He can avoid all that back breaking work, and…”
Right
when she was about to go into her lecture on the best use of time and money,
the doorbell rang. At the same time, my phone buzzed, and I saw a text from
Collins fly across.
CollinsM:
I’m out in front. You decent or do I have the pleasure of seeing and tasting
your sweet skin so early in the morning again
“Collins’
here!” I said, straightening my white lace soft shift dress, and slipping on my
red mule sandals. I ran to the door, and practically jumped
Similar Books
