Page 28 of The Sweet Spot

“I’m okay.” She smiles a little. “Busy, busy. Getting ready for Mizuki’s maternity leave.”

“Oh, that’s right—who’s gonna man the front desk?” I unwrap another ginger candy. “Or rather, woman the front desk.”

She tosses her hands up.

“Maybe I can do it, part-time,” I muse, considering my work study as one of UCSC’s library assistants.

“Maybe.” She nods thoughtfully. “We can talk about it.”

“How’s Darius?”

She blinks really quickly and looks down at the desk.

Alarmed, I go to her side of the desk and squeeze her shoulder. “Mom?”

“We decided to cool it.” Her voice is even, steady, but her shoulders sag.

“What? Why?” I ask quietly, lowering to a squat so I can look up into her face.

“Holy Basil is opening up another location in San Clemente, and he’s been offered head chef there.” She sniffles, giving me a brave smile. “He asked me to go down there with him, but I told him I couldn’t go.”

Mixed emotions swirl through me. I’d miss my mom so much if she left, but I’m old enough to be on my own. San Clemente isn’t that far away, and I tell her that. “You should follow your bliss,” I say, linking our fingers together.

“Oh, Wren. This is my bliss. My entire life is here—you, the studio, Gramma Kate. These streets, these beaches.” She shakes her head. “I care about Darius, but I don’t need Darius. The universe obviously has different plans for us.”

When I talk about the universe, it’s tongue in cheek, but when my mother does, she’s serious. “If you say so,” I say dubiously, straightening up. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” But her eyes shine with tears as she stands, and she drags me into a fierce hug. “I’ll be fine. This is grown folks stuff.”

“I’m grown,” I remind her, my voice muffled by the fabric of her pashmina. “You can always talk to me about this kind of stuff, you know. Always.”

She squeezes me a little tighter.

“I really like Darius,” I whisper. “And I know you do, too. Maybe…”

“It’s done, little bird.” Setting me at arm’s length, she inclines her head toward the clock on the opposite wall. “Listen, I have a class in ten…I’dlove to have you stay. It would be like old times.”

“I guess I could do that. You have an extra pair of leggings I can wear?”

Looks like the Arlo conversation will have to wait.

Dear Arlo

To: Arlo Janvier

Subject: re: stuff

Dear Arlo,

I’m finally done with exams. Thank God! If I never see another test again, it’ll be too soon. Where did you go to college? Did you always know you wanted to be a photojournalist? What was your most exciting assignment? The scariest? Do you have a favorite?

At first, I was more interested in the science of the mind. I wanted to help people, to counsel them—my friends always said I was the best listener. But lately, I’ve really been feeling my sociology classes. I think I want to study family and community and the impact ‘nurture’ has on us, not just ‘nature.’ How who we are impacts who we become. Still pretty broad right now, but I can feel it coming together.

By the way, I haven’t told my mom about you yet, but I will soon.

Wren

From: Arlo Janvier

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