I tried to ignore her as I picked out my next shirt. I could hear her rummaging through her purse in the search for tissues.
“Oh! I almost forgot; Ryland sent this for you.” Her hand appeared above the door, holding a small envelope.
I finished putting on an embellished tank top before reaching up to take the envelope from her. I ripped it open, trying to ignore the flip of my insides. A VISA gift card was inside with a small slip of heavy-weight paper rested against it. The paper that the card was attached to announced that there was an available balance of one thousand dollars. Leave it to Ry.
Please, ignore that this is a large amount of money.
I want to spoil you. Buy yourself a pair of pants (or two!) and at least one hoodie.
See you tonight ?
I shouldn’t have smiled, but I did anyway; I couldn’t help it. As a result, I exited the dressing room grinning like a madman. My mom took that to mean that I liked the shirt, and I just let her think that. It was a nice shirt, and I wasn’t in the mood for a “stay away from Ryland” lecture.
I was pushed from dressing room to dressing room as my mom shoved shirts, pants and even skirts and dresses in my direction. I took it all in stride; what else could I do? She was so happy, and seeing her smile was addicting. I paid for most of our purchases with Ryland’s card, ignoring my mom’s prying to find out how much he had given me; probably the equivalent of a week’s salary, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. She would freak out.
We came out of the last store before our lunch break, laden with bags of shirts, dresses, skirts, pants and jewelry. I had purchased more pants than I had ever owned before. Mom made out with more than enough to compliment her stingy wardrobe, and I had even convinced her to buy shoes that didn’t have non-slip soles.
We sat down to food court pizza and soda, setting all the bags to the side of us.
“How’s school?” Mom barraged into her monthly question-and-answer session. One of the joys of having a mother who worked so often that I never saw her was every once in a while she would start in on the standard twenty questions. It drove me crazy.
“Fine,” I said.
“Did anyone say anything when you showed up without a sweater on?” She was eager, making me feel bad for deceiving her.
“Not really. I got looked at a bit more than usual, but nothing big.”
“Really?” she asked. “Any of them cute guys?”
“No, Mom. This isn’t a good thing. I don’t like being looked at; it makes me uncomfortable.” I wanted to shiver at the thought.
“Well, one thing at a time, I suppose. At least we got you out of those hoodies.” She smiled; I cringed at the thought of reminding her that the deal was up tonight. I let the thought fall.
“Sooo...”
Since this was going to keep going, I took another bite of pizza.
“Wyn’s brother, he’s quite the looker.”
“Ew, Mom!” I cringed. “He’s like ten years older than me or something.”
“Really? He didn’t look that old.”
“Some people are blessed with good genes, I suppose.”
“Hmmmm... Well, would it be considered cradle-robbing if I tried to hook up with him?” She grinned, so I knew she was kidding, but the thought still made me sick.
“Gross, Mom. I can’t believe you even said that.”
“Well, can you blame me? I am a tad bit lonely after all. I could use a—”
“Stop right there, Mom, please. Besides, I thought you were still in love with Dad.”
Her face changed, her joyous smile slipping away to make room for an odd scowl. She looked almost, I don’t know... mad.
“I am. And speaking of your father, why didn’t you tell me that he sent you a letter?”
My face paled and my pizza crust dropped down to my plate. The empty trash can suddenly made sense; my mother never did household chores.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” I whispered.
“Well, at least I now know why you had such a hard time with it. Magic and cults... I wish your grandparents would have told me. I wish you would have told me. Maybe we could have gotten him some help.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” she scolded again.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I explained.
“Ryland and I were so worried; I think we both could have helped you so much more if you had been honest.”
I had been more honest with Ryland than with her, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I just nodded my head in agreement.
“That boy worries about you way too much. You should have heard him—”
“Mom,” I cut her off, “why are you and Ry all of a sudden the best of friends?” She looked at me like I was being unreasonable. I didn’t wait for her to reply; I just trudged on. “First, you tell me to stay away from him, and now you two are having heart-to-hearts in the kitchen.”