“Back?” I knew nothing about Amanda’s mother except what my mother had said in the first place, that she was a druggie. And I’d never met her since kindergarten. There was that.
“She lives in Miami now. She moved in with my grandma, and she’s coming to my game Saturday, and I’m seeing her tonight.”
“That’s great.”
I didn’t know what I expected Amanda’s druggie mom to look like, maybe like the high school kids at the park who always looked a little dirty. Or the skinny homeless person we’d seen downtown, the one my mom wanted to give a dollar to, but my dad said would use it to buy heroin. But when I met Amanda’s mom, she didn’t look like either. She looked like a normal mom, a little brighter, with her yellow hair, pink lipstick, and aqua workout clothes that fit a little tight.
She came to pick Amanda up from playing over at my house. She drove up in a two-seater red car, which didn’t look like a car anyone else’s mom drove. We already knew she was there before she rang the doorbell. Mom raced to get it, Amanda and me behind her.
“Hi,” the woman said. “I’m Jackie Lasky, Amanda’s mother.”
“Laura Burke. Nice to meet you.” Mom’s eyebrows looked weird, frozen in the middle of her forehead.
“Nice to meet you. Mandy, do you have your things?”
Amanda ran to get them. My mother cleared the doorway for Mrs.—Jackie—to come in. “Amanda’s told us so much about you.”
Amanda had told us nothing until that day. But that day, she couldn’t shut up about her. Her mom was living back in town. Her mom was looking for a job at Macy’s. Or maybe Bloomingdale’s. As one of those ladies with pink or white coats that did people’s makeup. Then she’d get a discount there, and she’d take Amanda and me to lunch at the mall. When we were alone, she’d said that her mom and dad were getting back together. My mom didn’t know about that one. I didn’t think Tim did either.
“She’s a great kid,” Jackie said.
“She is a great kid,” Mom agreed. “Tim’s done a great job with her.”
Jackie blinked. “Tim’s a great guy.” She looked at me. “Mandy said you’ve been friends a long time.”
I fidgeted with my hands. “Since kindergarten.”
“That is so great, so great that Mandy’s got such a nice little boyfriend.”
I wanted to tell her mother that Amanda hated being called Mandy, but I didn’t think Amanda wanted her to know. Neither of us liked people calling me Amanda’s boyfriend.
Amanda came back with her backpack then. “We’re just friends, Mom. I’m too young for a boyfriend.”
“Of course you are. I was just teasing. Maybe I can take you kids to the movies Saturday.”
“I have softball then,” Amanda said. “Travel team.”
“I know that,” Jackie said. “But after softball.”
“Maybe,” my mother said in a way I knew meant no. She didn’t like me to go in cars with people she didn’t know.
“Or we could all go,” Jackie said. “We could meet after the game and all go to the movies together.”
“I’ll have to check our schedule,” my mom said in a way I still knew meant no. I knew our schedule. I had a football game at eight, and Amanda’s softball game was usually at ten. So we’d all be done by lunch. Amanda knew it too.
“Please,” Amanda said.
“I just have to check,” Mom said again.
“Sure.” Jackie pulled something out of her wallet, a card. “Call me when you decide, and if you need a makeover, I’m an independent consultant for Aurelia Cosmetics. I could show you what to do about those fine lines.”
“I’ll keep you in mind.” Mom was smiling big. To Amanda, she said, “Why don’t you have your dad call me?”
“Okay.” Amanda walked to the door.
“Aren’t you going to thank them for having you over?” Jackie asked.
Mom laughed a little louder than usual, a fake laugh. “Amanda always says thank you.” And then she actually patted Amanda on the head, which was something my mom would do, but not something anyone would do to Amanda.
I didn’t remember if Amanda actually did always say thank you. But she said it then. Then she took her mother’s hand and pulled her toward the little two-seater. They roared off with the top down.
Mom decided we should all go to the movies together even though she hated movies. We planned to meet at Amanda’s softball game and see a Dwayne Johnson movie. We went over after my game.
Amanda was playing shortstop. Tim was teaching her, he said, to be a pitcher, and Amanda and I spent hours practicing, her pitching, me at catcher. I knew she spent hours more with her pitchback. But our age played coach-pitched, and Amanda usually played catcher or shortstop.
That day, it seemed like every ball came to her. She got maybe half of the outs, including participating in two double plays. Tim was coaching, but I noticed every time Amanda made a hit or an out, her eyes would go to the stands. After a while, I realized she was looking for Jackie. She wasn’t there. So, the next time Amanda looked up, I waved and pumped my fist at her. “Go, Amanda!”
She smiled but didn’t wave back.