Page 15 of Mr. Picture Perfect
I take hold of her hands now that I have her attention. “Want to go to the festival? Just for a little bit? I think it’ll be a lot of—”
My phone rings out from my pocket, startling us both.
As if in response, my mom pulls her hands from my grip. “You better get that,” she says. “Could be important.”
“Sure,” I say over my ringing phone, “but do you want to go to the festival after I take this? You look fine the way you are. You can go just like that. Just pop on some shoes and—”
“Better get that,” she repeats, nodding at my phone.
I suppress a sigh of frustration. I’m so close to getting her out of the house. But I go ahead and oblige her, pulling my phone out of my pocket and giving it a look.
To my surprise, it’s Nadine Strong.
This may not be a good thing.
The last time she called me was this past December, and it was to set me up on a blind date. She had the “perfect young man” she was dying for me to meet. Obviously, it did not work out. Though I might say I did get two new friends out of the whole debacle, one of whom happens to be a vet tech who was partly responsible for saving my dog Porridge’s life many years ago.
I look up from my phone to tell my mom, “It’s Mayor Strong,” but find her already gone. I hear the distant sound of her bedroom door shutting. I don’t suspect she went in there to change for the festival; I think she’s hiding from me and my pesky optimism.
I frown, disappointed, then quickly change my tune and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey there, Nadine!”
“Cole, ya crazy daredevil, I just heard everything. Are you alright?”
She insisted once that we neverdareuse formalities with each other and always stay on a first-name basis. “Aww, thanks for your concern, but I’m just fine, really.”
“You just ‘bout found yourself under a heap of carpentry, ain’t none of that sounds‘just fine’to me. How’s the reporter fella? The one who almost got buried? His name escapes me.”
I peer out the window nearby, spotting my Nan in the garden, Porridge frolicking around in the yard behind her. “Noah Reed,” I tell her.
“Noah, right, I was way off. Why’d I think it wasMarty…?”
“I think he’s okay. I haven’t actually, uh, been able to see him since the incident.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s lovely and thankful for havin’ his life and limbs, good for him. Hey, listen, baby, I’ve got an idea, acrazyidea, and I wanted to run it past you.”
“An idea?”
“Yep, crazy one. I already got approval from the mayor.” She makes a snorting sound. “Get it? ‘Cause the mayor’s me? Gosh, I’ll never get used to sayin’ that. Anyway, you got plans tonight? How ‘bout you come on over ‘round eight? I’m havin’ a few friends stop by for finger foods and I want to talk to you about my crazy idea.”
I blink. “Oh. Tonight as in … tonight-tonight?”
“What other kind of tonight is there, babe? Don’t gotta bring nothin’ but your cute, perfect tush. And also, as mayor, I officially declare you ain’t allowed to say ‘no’ to me, not ever.”
“Nadine …”
“That’sMayorNadine to you.” She chuckles. “Well, just for the purposes of this call. Gotta exert my authority when it’s necessary. Now will I see you tonight on my doorstep at eight? Thisisa test.”
I take a breath. “Yes. I’ll be there.”
“Good. Come hungry. But not too hungry. Did I mention the finger foods part? See you then!” She hangs up.
I pocket my phone, then stare down at the calendar my mom left here on the kitchen counter. Circled on next Tuesday is my parents’ anniversary. I wonder if that’s what she was looking for.
Not that they’ve had much to celebrate for a while. The two of them hardly ever see each other. My dad’s always at work, busying himself with more jobs than he can juggle. My mom goes through wine like Kleenex and seems interested in doing nothing. This is the side of my family no one sees. This is the part of my life no one knows: the harsh reality of the Harding family and its ever-so-tentative existence.
I wonder if Noah’s mom knew anything about this. After all, what else did the women talk about during all of those afternoons when Noah and I sat in our backyards pretending to play?
I stand outside my mom’s bedroom door. “You okay? Mom?” I give the door a gentle knock, then poke my head in. She’s lying on the bed with the TV on, a game show playing. The sound of the cheerful host and applause contrasts strangely with my mother’s melancholy. “Sounds like I’ve been invited over to the Strongs’ for a little thing tonight. Nadine wanted to run some kind of idea past me. No idea what it is. Want to come? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. We can also still go down to the festival right now if you wanted.”
