Page 6 of Waiting for Tuesday

“Are you still going through with that brick and mortar?”

I leaned back in my chair and pushed my head into the soft upholstered seat. “I pick up the keys tonight.” I gripped the bridge of my nose and laughed. “Most parents would be proud, you know.”

“Honey,” she said, her voice quiet but emotional, “Iamproud, just… worried. We’re travelers, Tuesday. We’re cut from the same cloth. I’m worried you’ll get wanderlust in a year or two, and you’ll be stuck. Tied to a pile of concrete and brick. It’ll break my heart.”

I pulled in a deep breath and squeezed my fingers around the phone. It was amazing how much self-doubt my mother could instill with so few words. But she was wrong.

“Mom… that’syour way.Not mine. I want to feel settled. I’m planting roots for the first time in my life, and it feels wonderful.I know you don’t understand. It’s not the life you’d choose, but itisfor me.Please just be happy.”I need you to be happy.

She sighed heavily. “You’re acting like you hated your childhood, that you had no friends. Did you hate it, Tuesday? Were you really that unhappy?”

I gripped the bridge of my nose. “Mom… that’s not what I’m trying to say. I loved my life. I wouldn’t be the person I am without all the things we’ve done together, and you always made sure I had Becky. I’m just—I’m ready for more now. Don’t you understand?”

There was a long pause before she spoke again. “You’re right, honey… You’re always right. Of course I’m happy for you.”

I couldn’t help it; my eyes misted over and a lump formed in the back of my throat. My mom and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was important to me. She was my family. The only one.

Becky’s voice called from the living room and I spun around. Well, except for Becky.

“Hey, Mom, Becks just got here. We’re gonna go celebrate. Can I call you later?”

“Of course, go have a good time, dear.”

I nodded, wiping a few tears with my finger. “Thanks Mom, I love you.”

“I love you, too—and Tuesday?”

I nodded.

“I really am proud of you.”

The phone went silent before I could answer, and I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat. My emotions were getting the better of me, and I didn’t like it. I turned around in my chair, determined not to let myself cry again, and found Becky standing in the doorway watching me. She wore black high-waisted shorts and a crop top, nude heels that made her legs look a mile long, and black waves hanging to her waist. She reminded me of a superhero, and there was one thing for certain—we weren’t just going out to dinner.

“Everything okay?” Becky asked, tilting her head to the side as she walked over to the closet.

“It’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Mom,” I stated. As if “Mom” were some kind of magic answer that explained everything. But Becky actually understood.

Determined not to think about it anymore, I turned my attention to Becky and took a slow, deliberate sweep over her outfit. I raised my eyebrows. “Where are you taking me?”

She bit her lip then squeezed between stacks of boxes. “We’re going to dinner, like I said, then we’re going to a pub. There’s a bartender there I like.”

“Mmmhmm…”

“Okay, there’s also a band, pool tables, and organic beer. You’ll fit right in.” She grinned. “Besides, you’ve been working too hard, you need a break. I mean, look at this mess. Your apartment’s exploding with boxes.”

I took in the sight of my bedroom, now stacked waist high with product boxes I didn’t have room for. “That’s only because Mr. Chavez kicked me out of his garage when he heard about the store. This wasn’t exactly my plan.”

“I know.” Becky frowned. “He’s such an ass. I still think we should egg his car.”

I pushed to stand. “Nah. It’ll work out. I’m saving money, which is good. Plus, after the HAZMAT crew is done with the building, all of this will be gone. And guess who’s helping me move it all to my new shop?”

“Umm, Popeye?”

“Nope.”

“Donald Trump?”

I took another swig of Kombucha. “Try again.”

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