Page 7 of If Not for My Baby
“My mom and I can watch over her. It’s only two months.” I open my mouth but he cuts me off, reading my mind. “We’ll keep an eye on Willow, too.”
“I’ve never left her—”
“She’s a grown person, Clementine. She’ll be okay without you for a little while.”
He’s not wrong, I guess. I lean against the fryer and stale oil fills my nostrils. It’s weirdly comforting. “My job—”
“I think your supervisor found some unused vacation days in your file.”
“You’re slammed, you can’t spare a single pair of hands. I’m not leaving you, or anyone else, high and dry.”
“You’re right.” He nods. “I’ll never find someone in all of eastern Texas that can wait on a table like you can.”
“Hey, now.” But I’m kind of out of excuses. “I have no experience.”
“How do you think folks get experience in the first place?You have to start somewhere.” And then Mike delivers the kill shot: “Clementine, it’s over eighty thousand dollars. Think what that could do for you and your mom.”
The clinical trial. I know he’s right. But I’ve based the last six years of my life on the thesis that I cannot leave my mom behind in Cherry Grove. I’ve turned down college and any career that could force me to move…I need a cabinet of old receipts to sort or a bunch of blunt eyeliner to sharpen. Something tactile to calm me down and help me think.
“If y’all perform in Austin or Dallas or something, I’ll come out to cheer you on.”
“This is crazy. Am I really thinking about doing this?”
“Be careful, all right? No drugs, no parties, no falling for rock stars.”
I laugh at the mental image. Me, sucked into a wild life of passion and debauchery. I’ve never even smoked weed. “Can I head home early today? I need to talk to my mom.”
“Go for it,” he says easily. “This is exciting.”
I yank my red Happy Tortilla apron off and head for the swinging kitchen doors. But not before doubling back to throw my arms around Mike. He smells like the onions he was slicing earlier and nostalgic supermarket aftershave. His familiar arms wrap tightly—intimately—around the small of my back.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
In the end, I can’t wait the entire six-minute drive home to tell my mom. I call her from a red light just blocks away from the house and fill her in. She screams louder than my car speakers are equipped for.
When I walk in the door, she’s already got Halloran musicblasting from all corners of the home. It’s that one song of his I know—“If Not for My Baby.” The heart-pounding, foot-thumping, folk-rock single that went platinum, putting him on the map all those years ago. A spine-tingling pastoral duet featuring Cara Brennan, an Irish singer-songwriter, now with her own rabid fan base of melancholy twentysomethings who love wildflowers and rain and cigarettes.
“There’s my little superstar!” my mom screams, clapping her hands to the song and wiggling her butt from the living room sofa. Willow’s tail is wagging to the music, too, excited by whatever has the rest of her family so pumped up.
I can’t help the grin that splits my face, and I sway my hips to the melody as I move toward them. When I reach her, I grab Willow’s paws and we dance to those killer drums, the gently grooving bass, and Halloran’s bellowing vocals. What an insane voice.
My mom turns the music down and pulls me into a hug. “I am going to miss you so damn much.”
The words are like a gallon of ice water down my back. “I’m not actually going to do it.”
Her face is furiously stern when she releases me. “Clementine Barbarella Clark.”
I can’t help my snort. She’s been doing that bit since I was a kid.Clementine Beetlejuice Clark. Clementine Ben & Jerry’s Clark.Sometimes I forget my real middle name is Bonnie.
“Youhaveto go. This could be life-changing.”
“I don’t know if I want my life to change.”
Her face softens and she takes my hand in hers. “This could be good change. Opportunity.”
“What if I can’t function without you?”
It’s a joke…but it’s not really a joke. We’ve never been apart longer than a school field trip I took to the Alamo. I was seven and only gone for two nights—I cried for my mom the whole time. It’s not that we’re weirdo close or anything. She’s my best friend, but also the opportunity just never really presented itself for me to leave. I always had to work, and take care of her, and I like doing both of those things. I like that it’s always just been the two of us. I like Cherry Grove, and my life here.
