Fifteen #2
I cannot believe this. This is why she’s here now? She just wants to give me one of her lectures? I look around irritably and mutter, “Do you realize how insane it is to hear you talk about blowing up my future when that’s exactly what you did?”
Her eyes narrow, and she sets her lips in a hard line.
I know her well enough to know that right now she’s trying her hardest not to lose control. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and stares steadily at me. Chin high. Shoulders straight. She parts her lips and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
No, of course not.
“Then what do you want?” I put my hands on my hips.
“I want to talk to you. I haven’t heard from you in almost two weeks!”
I grimace. “That’s not my fault!”
“Listen, the situation got out of hand that night for the both of us. I never wanted to strike you or to kick you out, but I was hurt by what you said, and I acted on impulse. However, as you are too stubborn to understand that my warnings and rules are for your own good, it’s clear to me that it’s time for us to make up. ”
I stare at her, amazed. “Now you want to make up? After you put me out on the street? If you really cared about me, you would have done something before I was forced to find a solution myself!” I argue, pressing a hand to my chest.
“You never gave me the chance! You did everything you could to keep from being found. You even sent your friends to get your things so you wouldn’t have to see me!” Her face reddens with anger, and her icy blue eyes pierce me with a stern look.
“Oh, I’m so sorry if I was a little bit hurt and upset after my mother kicked me out of my house!” I hiss. Some of the customers are starting to give us concerned looks. My God, how embarrassing. I’m airing all my personal and family problems here at work.
Just when I think this situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, I hear the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs.
Derek, my boss, walks into the room and gives the customers a fixed smile.
A smile that clearly says, Please excuse the scene my waitress is subjecting you to. My soon-to-be-fired waitress.
He joins me behind the bar, and I am too ashamed to even look him in the face. I’m sure he’s about to read me the riot act, but he surprises me by placing his hand somewhat hesitantly on my shoulder and turning to face my mother.
“Mrs. Clark, pleased to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand.
“White. I’m Ms. White,” she insists, returning the handshake haughtily.
“Oh, yes, of course. Pardon me, Ms. White,” he corrects himself politely.
I just stare at the bar, willing myself to sink into the floor.
“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to discuss your personal matters outside. Vanessa, you can take your break if necessary; I can take care of things here.”
I don’t dare look up at him. I know my cheeks are burning. I have never been more mortified in my life. A mother-daughter fight in my workplace… God, not even in the worst soap operas. My mother snatches her purse and steps back.
“That’s not necessary,” she says. “I’ll talk to my daughter when her shift is over.”
She’s not planning on staying here until then, is she? I don’t want her hanging around.
“My shift finishes at two p.m. I still have two hours left,” I answer as calmly as I can, even as inside I’m melting down.
“Perfect. In that case, I would like a martini while I wait.” She grins. She sits down on a stool and taps her light-pink-polished nail on the wood.
I look at her, narrowing my eyes, before giving up. It’s no use. She’s not going anywhere. Derek tightens his grip on my shoulder, almost as if to give me courage. “I have some work to do upstairs; are we good here?” he asks me.
I nod. “Yes, definitely. I’m so sorry; it won’t happen again.”
“Great.” He releases his grip on my shoulder and steps back. “Ms. White, although I would have liked to meet you under better circumstances, it was still a pleasure.” He excuses himself politely and goes back to his office.
I glare at my mother, who doesn’t bat an eye, before turning around and grabbing a cocktail glass. I make her a martini. To top it off, I toss in a green olive. My feeling of humiliation is once again giving way to a mounting anger even more explosive than before.
“Are you really sure you want to wait here until the end of my shift? Because if you do, you’ll be forced to see Thomas when he comes to get me.” I grin wickedly, her cocktail in my hand.
“Oh, really? I should have known they’d let anyone into this bar,” she says calmly.
I stifle a groan of frustration as I slam her glass down on the bar, causing some of the liquid to slop over the edge. “Your martini, Ms. White. You’re welcome.” I hand her a napkin with just as much bad grace.
“I see you still need some practice. How do you get tips when you’re so clumsy?” she retorts, scowling at me.
I resist the urge to sigh and ignore her instead. It’s going to be a very, very long afternoon.
***
I spend the remaining two hours of my shift running up and down the bar, serving all the customers in my section.
My mother remains seated at the counter, making occasional demands, while I just keep mulling over a thought that recently leapt out at me: Was she the one who paid my school tuition? Her sudden visit has me suspicious.
When I change after my shift, clock out, and leave, she’s already waiting outside for me.
Right there in front of her car, purse clutched tightly under her arm.
I walk toward her, glancing around the Marsy’s parking lot.
Thomas isn’t here yet. When I reach her, I cross my arms over my chest and face her.
“It was you, wasn’t it? Did you pay my tuition when you found out I was moving into the frat house?
How’d you do it, huh? Did you mortgage the house?
Get a loan from the bank? Take a handout from Victor?
Anything to keep me away from him, right?
” I can feel the outrage rising inside me.
“What in the world are you talking about?” she asks me, frowning. She seems sincerely confused.
“I’m talking about the tuition that magically got paid, giving me access to all the university’s services, including housing.”
She stiffens and seems even more surprised. “Someone paid your tuition? I don’t know anything about that.”
Her harsh mask is collapsing, but I can’t trust her, not anymore. I snort loudly, not even looking her in the eye. “Yeah, sure. It happens yesterday, and then today you show up at the bar; am I supposed to believe that’s a coincidence?”
“I couldn’t have paid that amount even if I wanted to. You know that.” She pauses and thinks for a few seconds, and then, it’s as if a light bulb has suddenly flickered on. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Her eyes are fixed on the asphalt, and what she is thinking seems to disturb her more with every passing second. She looks up at me, and I see a strange emotion flicker in her eyes. Offense? Resentment? Whatever it is, it’s definitely not good.
“Who did you tell?”
I knit my eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You must have told someone; a thing like that doesn’t just fall out of the sky!”
She’s getting way too agitated. I decide to tell her the truth, to try to reassure her. “Only Thomas, Alex, and Tiffany know. And none of them would do something like that without my knowledge.”
“They must have told someone else!”
“No, Mom, they didn’t. But why are you so worked up about it?”
“My daughter’s tuition gets paid by God knows who, and that shouldn’t bother me?”
“It bothers me too, if you want the truth, but whoever did it requested to remain anonymous.”
“That’s even more ridiculous. I swear, I am going to find out who it is,” she continues, completely out of control.
I sigh and bite down on my lip in an attempt to calm myself as I rub my throbbing temples. With a much less aggressive tone, I ask her, “Why are you here anyway?”
My mother looks me in the eye and lowers her defenses as well. “To apologize to you and try to make up for it, if you’ll give me the chance. My door is always open for you, no matter who you decide to hang out with. I’m sorry I made you doubt that. But I want you to come home, Vanessa.”
I was expecting almost anything other than hearing her say those words.
It does make me sad to see her like this, but I can’t help but feel a bit like a puppet dancing on her strings.
And for once, I almost wish my pride would win out.
But then I think back to these last few days with Thomas and everything he told me about his past. I know that there are much more serious reasons for a mother and daughter to stop speaking to one another.
I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right.
It’s not worth keeping up this estrangement over an argument that got out of hand.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that. I think I owe you an apology too.
I know I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have.
But I’m not coming home,” I tell her. “And before you say it, Thomas has nothing to do with it. I plan to move out of the frat house now that I can stay on campus. I think I need to finally get a place of my own where I can concentrate on my studies.”
“I think that’s a good decision. But I would still like to spend time with you, if you agree.”
I shrug uncertainly. “I honestly don’t know, Mom.
Nothing’s changed since last time. I’m still with Thomas, and you still hate him.
And I have no intention of getting into a situation where I spend time with my mother just to listen to her spout more nastiness about my boyfriend. Thomas doesn’t deserve that.”
She rolls her eyes but then composes herself. She studies me carefully, as if considering how to propose something to me. I give her a questioning look, until she finally says, “What about dinner?”
I cock an eyebrow because I can feel there’s more to this.
“Dinner with the both of you,” she adds.
My eyes bug out. “W-what?”