I felt like Jake had so much potential, there was no box to put him in. Mom felt like people couldn’t escape their fates or what they were born to do. Mom said that I was too young to understand, that I was too idealistic. It made me feel like arguing, but what could I say? I was too young. And I guess too idealistic.
But I didn’t want to be some hard-hearted gold-digger with a checklist and a chip on my shoulder. What was so wrong with loving someone good and kind and different? What was so wrong with believing that someone can be more than what he seems? It just wasn’t an argument I could have with my mom. We couldn’t see eye to eye on this one. And I was trying really hard not to be an average asshole teenager and take her opinion as seriously as I could.
“It’s not so long.” Jake’s voice was calm in my ears, smoothing out all the wild thoughts clawing around and tearing at my brain. “Don’t be upset. And we get to see each other tonight, right?”
“Yes,” I pouted.
“What time did you say?” I heard the springs on Jake’s bed creak as he stood up.
“Four.”
“Three?” he repeated. “Let’s just say I misheard.”
I smiled a tiny smile. “I love you, Jake.” I sighed. “You can get a calling card. Or I can call my cell and get international calling this month.”
“Can you do that?” His voice bubbled with hope. I’d let him down so hard, but he was still happy with the little I offered.
“To be able to talk to you? You know I’ll do whatever.” I wiped my cheeks dry with my fingers.
“You’re the best. Go pack. I’ll be over before you know it, alright? I love you, Bren.”
“I love you.” We clicked off, and I felt like a lifeline broke. Without Jake I was lost.
I put a big smile on my face and went out to the kitchen. Mom had wrestled the huge turkey into the oven early that morning. She peeled the potatoes over the sink. I went to a drawer and took out the extra peeler, the old metal one that dug into the skin on your hands when you used it.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom said. She was already dressed to the nines in her red cashmere sweater, a present from Thorsten, and a black pencil skirt. She had on high black heels and the gold Virgin Mary necklace I saw her admire in Macy’s and picked up a few weeks later for her gift this Christmas. I knew she’d love it. Her light brown hair was curled, and it was already almost down to her shoulders, grown out since her last haircut. So pretty. She was just so pretty. She gave me a kiss. “You don’t need to do this. Go pack.”
“I did!” I cringed when I realized how cheesy and bright it sounded. It sounded artificial. “I think I’m all done.”
“I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Mom put a wet, potato-flecked hand on my arm. Her voice was getting that lecture quality to it, and I wanted to dodge it.
“Me too.” I picked up a hot potato and popped it from one hand to the other to cool it before I gouged and scraped. I hated peeling potatoes. I hated lectures, but my forced enthusiasm made Mom too suspicious.
“I know you and Jake probably made plans. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. The time to travel is now and for the next few years. You have to live your life, sweetheart. You can’t do everything based around a high school relationship.” Her peeler hung idle in her fingers as she talked.
I had to bite my lips and peel harder. If I answered, I was going to say something she’d disagree with. If I was quiet, maybe whatever deity there was would have mercy on me and make the lecture stop. But then Mom surprised me.
Her voice got very low and a little watery. “Your biological father was a guy who seemed so perfect. Nice and kind and really smart. I felt lucky to have him around. But when it came down to it, he wasn’t the right guy for me, sweetie. Or for you. He didn’t have what it took, and if I’d been more independent, I wouldn’t have fallen apart like I did.”
I held the cooling potato, peeled to a nub, in one hand and stayed still. Now I was hoping that the deity would ignore my former prayer and just let her continue. Who was he? Who was this dad of mine? She was so quiet I didn’t know for sure if she would continue.
“He kept right on going, after us.” Her voice was tissue-paper soft. I could see her gray-blue eyes, dewy with tears. Her lips made a wobbly line and her soft, small hands shook a little around the brown potato skin. “And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. But in the end, I learned from him. I learned that it’s important to have your own thing, your own life. I’m not saying he was a good person. He had a lot to learn about compassion and respect and love.” Her voice was wet with sadness. “But he knew all about being selfish. It’s something we have to learn.”
And I didn’t say, But Jake and I aren’t you and my father. And I didn’t say, This is a totally different situation.And I didn’t say, Tell me more about what happened. Because I knew that every one of those things would ruin this weird spell she was casting with her velvety soft voice. And I didn’t know how much I believed any of those things or how much more I really wanted to know.
“Because it’s hard to balance compassion and love for others with selfishness,” Mom continued. “I think, just by nature, you’ve got the loving thing down. So now I need to teach you to be selfish. And I need to see you experience a whole range of things, so you have a choice. We tend to get too comfortable too quickly, honey, and that’s no way to make any big decision.” Her eyes lightened like a soft blue sky after a summer storm. She smiled and took my potato-caked hand in hers. “Get dressed. I bet Jake will show up a little early. You two can have a nice dinner.”
Mom kissed my cheek and I knew I had the imprint of her lipstick on my skin. I floated to the bathroom, rinsed my hands, and peered at my reflection, marked by my mother’s lips. I needed to do what my mom asked me. I needed to listen to her, no matter how much I wanted to ignore what she was saying. I needed to prove to her that I wasn’t my father; she had raised me better than that. And I had to show her that I wasn’t her from that time. I wasn’t the same teenager she had been.
I realized that my mom was scared about this. She was afraid for me, and I had to show her that I would be fine. Jake wasn’t like my father, but the only way Mom would understand that was if I went with her and proved it. If Jake and I both proved it. We could do this. No words would change any of this. She had to see it for herself.
Proving that I wasn’t just like my mom would be harder. How could I deny that I loved being in love with Jake? And I would probably fall apart a little without him. Wasn’t that normal? And we had been spending a lot of time together, but that was because we wanted to, not because I couldn’t hang out on my own. Wasn’t it?
Well, at least I knew that Jake was just as loving as I was. He was not selfish. He wasn’t. I didn’t think. I didn’t really want to think about it. My mom’s lectures tended to do this to me. They took a perfectly rational, reasonable situation and turned it on its head. Was she right? Was I too comfortable?
I pushed that all out of my head for right now. I had an afternoon with Jake to look forward to.
And, on the bright side, it was a trip to Paris! I loved to travel, no matter how much leaving home would ache this time. It was a trip to Paris with my mom, and it would be wonderful. When I got home, I could fall right back into Jake’s arms, and Mom could be less worried and less critical.
At least I hoped that would happen.
Chapter Two
I went to my room and took out my dress, a scarlet red silk with cap sleeves and a wraparound waist. I loved it, and it was kind of my first adult Christmas dress. I had black stockings with a line sewn up the back like the old-fashioned silk style and a pair of really cute black strappy heels, which were uncomfortable enough that I was glad I would only be wearing them around the house. I had just cut my bangs, so they were right above my eyebrows, where I liked them. I put on a black silk headband and put the rest of my hair into a carefully messy bun, which is deceptively hard to do. A thousand bobby pins later, and it looked really good, in a windblown way.