“Are you sure?” The filet was the most expensive thing on the menu.
“Now, I know it’s not on a bed of anything, but it still sounds pretty fancy. We’re celebrating. Go for it.” She wiggled in her seat like she was dancing.
We put in our orders and then Mom raised her glass. “To us,” she said.
I clinked mine to hers. There wasn’t a drop of booze in the sparkling cider, but it still felt as if the bubbles were going to my head. The waitress had left a tiny tray with olives, fancy nuts, and dried fruit that I picked at.
“I have some good news too. A bit extra to celebrate,” Mom said. She squirmed in her seat, and I realized she was ready to explode with excitement. She’d never been able to keep a secret; her inner ten-year-old was a big blabber.
“What is it?” I poked her shin under the table with my sandal. “Tell me.”
Mom tucked her hair behind her ears and sat up straighter. “As of this morning, ten thirty to be precise, I am pleased to announce that I signed a book deal.”
I nearly aspirated the olive that had been in my mouth. I coughed the half-chewed chunks into my hand and wiped them onto the linen napkin. “What?”
She smirked, smug that she’d surprised me with her announcement. “You heard me. I signed a book deal. The publisher wants to call it A Psychic Solution. How cool is that? The agent woman set the whole thing up. I haven’t even written a word of it yet, and they’re still giving me half the money upfront.” She lowered her voice. “It’s almost as much as I make in a year at the Stop and Shop.”
“Mom, that’s awesome. You’re going to be an author.”
“Pretty fancy for a girl who didn’t even finish high school.” She buffed her nails on her shoulder and laughed. Her face was flushed.
“I guess you better get used to eating in places like this,” I said.
She picked at the bread they’d brought. “Maybe.” She lowered her voice. “To be honest, I think most of the time I’d prefer Chick-fil-A.”
“You shouldn’t eat there,” I started to say.
“I know, they’re racist. You tell me all the time.”
“Homophobic,” I said. “That’s just as bad.”
“Could be, but they do make a good sandwich.” She looked to the table next to us to see which knife the woman used to butter her bread and copied her.
“I’m really proud of you, Mom.” I realized I was. It was like she was transforming into someone completely new, or was it possible that I was finally seeing her for who she could be if she only had a chance?
She lifted her glass again. “Here’s to the Thorn girls moving onward and upward.” We toasted that and then came up with increasingly silly toasts until the waitress brought out our plates. She placed them down carefully as if they were works of art instead of food. I had the urge to applaud.
I felt a bit guilty about eating a cow, but vowed I’d go back to lentils tomorrow. It was like what we were eating came from a different planet from the food that filled our fridge. I’d be stupid to pass up this opportunity.
Our plates were whisked away, and our waitress brought a stiff parchment sheet decorated with calligraphy script. “Our dessert selections,” she declared.
“I’m stuffed,” I said. “If I eat one more thing, my pants are going to split.”
“They have cheesecake with blueberries,” Mom said, consulting the sheet.
“Well . . . maybe we could share,” I said.
Mom laughed and requested two forks. “I have something for you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a tiny box that she’d tied with a red ribbon. She saw my raised eyebrows. “Consider it an early graduation gift.”
I carefully untied the bow and opened the box. Inside there was a magazine picture folded up into tiny eighths so it would fit inside. I opened it and realized it was a shot of the New York skyline. I looked up, uncertain.
“I was going to put in a check, but you can’t cash it until I get the book money, which won’t be for a couple months.” She smiled. “This was the best idea I could come up with for the meantime.”
“What do you mean?”
Her smile grew wider. “I’m going to give you the money to go to New York. Enough to cover your half of an apartment for two or three months. That should give you time to settle in, find a job, and figure out what you’d like to do.”
I traced the lines where the picture was folded. “Mom, are you sure?”
She reached over and touched the back of my hand. “I know I haven’t always done a great job at this mom thing, but I was only a kid when you were born. It took me a while to figure things out. Now I can do this for you, and I really want to.”
My lower lip shook. I pushed the box back toward her. “It’s your money.”
“I want you to have all the chances I never had. You go off to the big city and knock ’em dead, kiddo.” She tossed back the last of her champagne. “And when you want, you can come visit me to talk over your options.” She paused. “But you won’t be visiting me here.”
I wiped my eyes to get rid of the tears that were threatening to fall. “You’re leaving too?”
“No reason not to. I can write that book anywhere.” She glanced over at me as if disclosing a secret. “You were right when you said I stayed here because it was safe. I was too scared to change things, but I’m not anymore. I think we’ll both do better with a fresh start.”
“Florida?” I guessed. My mom had always talked about the Sunshine State as if it were the Promised Land.
“Miami. I even checked out possible apartments on the Web.”
I sat across from her, shocked. An idea flitted through my head like a hummingbird. “Starting over in a new place isn’t going to be easy,” I pointed out. “You won’t know anyone, and it will take a while to figure out where you’re going, what grocery store you like, all that kind of stuff.”
Her lips pinched. “Yeah.” She took a deep breath.
I nodded. “It might be better if you went with someone.”
She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I got nobody.”
“You got me,” I said. Maybe Miami was exactly what I needed, a new place, a fresh start.
Mom’s eyes welled up as we stared at each other across the table. “Are you saying you want to come too?”
Her reaction made a tiny explosion of happiness in my chest like fireworks. “I only picked New York because of Drew. Miami could be pretty cool.”
Mom put down her fork. “Are you sure? I’d love to have you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. That’s not your job.”
“We’ll take care of each other. I’d like to go.” As the words left my mouth I realized they were true. I held out a warning finger. “No borrowing my bathing suit if yours is wet.”
Mom’s smile nearly split her face in two. “Deal. I’m predicting there’s nothing but up for the Thorn family.”
I laughed. “Is that an official prediction?”
“You can take that one to the bank.”
Forty-Nine