Page 39 of A Whole New Play

The urge to stand up for the amazing man billows within me. “Dad is a coach in the NFL, Mom. He makes good money. Really good money.”

“Yes, and it took him forever to reach that level in his career,” she counters. “And he’s not even the head coach.”

Because he cared more about raising me than he did his career. Unlike you…

“Can we talk about something else?” I hate when Mom talks bad about Dad, but the few times I’ve called her out it in the past didn’t go well. One time, we went a whole month without speaking.

It baffles me to think of my mom and dad ever being happy together. They were college athletes at the same school when they met. Dad played football, and Mom was a track and field star. Maybe she was more laid back at that time? But for as long as I can remember, she’s been high-strung and focused on appearances and others’ perceptions of her life. Dad is the total opposite. He goes with the flow, but that doesn’t mean he’s irresponsible. After all, he’s the one who stepped up to raise me when Mom decided she wasn’t interested in that “lifestyle”.

Yeah… there’s some resentment there for sure.

But I don’t like confrontation—especially not with my mom.

I take another sip of tea as I wait for Mom to respond. I can see in her lovely green eyes—the only feature we have in common—that she wants to keep ragging on Dad.

But whatever she sees in my expression has her sighing and saying, “Sure.”

Relief flows through me, and I jump at the opportunity to potentially turn this brunch into a pleasant experience. “I saw your photos from Venice last month. The city looked beautiful.”

Delight flashes in her gaze and she begins raving about her and Mark’s latest trip to the iconic Italian city.

Our food arrives in the middle of her recounting her tour of St. Mark’s Basilica—her husband’s namesake—but Mom hardly misses a beat as she continues sharing stories of the trip while eating tiny bites of her gourmet meal.

I make sure my bites are equally as small to avoid criticism, nodding absentmindedly as she goes on and on about the overwhelming number of frescos she saw. She goes into painful detail about each one.

I am slicing my sausage link, resisting the urge to stab the entire thing with my fork and take bites from it, when Mom says, “Since you have nothing else going on, you should join me and Mark on a trip soon. It would be good for you to get out of the country and experience a little culture.”

I keep my eyes on my fork and knife and focus on cutting small pieces. “Except, I do have something going on,” I remind her. “I’m a nanny.”

Mom huffs, but whatever snide remark balances on the tip of her tongue isn’t shared. The waiter stops by to check on us, politely attempting not to show he’s noticed the tension percolating between us, before walking away to assist another table when we tell him we’re fine.

I brace myself for her to resume lecturing me about my life choices when my phone buzzes in my purse.

I take out the device even though I know doing so will irritate my mother. Her heavy exhale across the table confirms as much.

But I don’t care about her reaction as I read the message from Carter.

Sorry to bother you. Something’s come up. Is there any way you can watch the kids for a couple of hours this afternoon? I’ll double your rate.

Unease twists my stomach. I haven’t been working for Carter for long, but I know he wouldn’t reach out on my day off unless it was an emergency.

Immediately, I reply:

Of course. When do you need me there?

Is 2 okay?

Yes.

I hit send and chew on my bottom lip, debating if I should ask what’s going on or just wait until I get to the house. Curiosity and concern win.

Is everything okay with the twins?

Yes. Drama with Laura. Nothing serious.

Rather than alleviate my concern, his reply makes it grow. I don’t know all the details about what’s going on with him and his ex. It’s not my business, and asking about it seems like venturing too close to crossing the line of professionalism we both drew in the sand. But Andy and Abby talk about their mother from time to time, and what they share is troubling.

They’re just kids. I know what they say could very well be a misrepresentation of their interactions with their mother. But I’ve heard enough about how she’s often too busy when they’re around to play with them, or how she doesn’t like superheroes and refuses to watch her son’s favorite cartoons with him, for me to think Carter’s ex might not be winning Mother of the Year anytime soon.

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