Page 63 of Collision
“That’s Chad, all right!”
“To answer your question, no. I don’t belong to any sorority, too many constraints. But I have joined the university book club and am thinking about applying to work on the paper,” I interject to resume the conversation.
My mother gasps, dropping her fork to the floor.
“Sorry, I’m so clumsy.” She gets up abruptly and goes to the kitchen to get clean cutlery.
“Would you like to be a journalist?” Victor asks curiously.
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I dream of writing, but I’m waiting for the right story. I think working on the school newspaper, even though it’s very different than an actual newspaper, is still a good way to practice,” I explain.
“Absolutely, but it is a difficult field to make it in, you know?” I nod, and he continues, “I know very few writers or journalists who have managed to turn their passion into a sufficiently high-paying job that allows for a good standard of living.”
I shrug one shoulder and frown slightly. “I am very aware of that.”
On her return, my mother listens without uttering a word until, taking advantage of a moment of silence, she exclaims, “You know dear, I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet Travis, my daughter’s fiancé. He comes from a very respectable family; Vanessa is so lucky.”
Now it’s my turn to drop cutlery onto the plate this time. Alex gives me a disheartened look and I consider ruining the whole dinner, telling my mother that her precious Travis turned out to be a first-class asshole. I wonder how she would react if she knew that the boy she always treated like he was the second coming was nothing but a cheater. She’d probably pass out. Yet part of me is convinced that she would never turn on Travis, not even if she was faced with the ugly truth. Instead, she would probably disown me for daring to leave the richest daddy’s boy in all of Oregon.
I open my mouth to spit out the whole truth, but Alex, who seems to have read my mind, taps me on the foot under the table, shaking his head. I reflect for a few seconds and, in the end, I keep my mouth shut. Maybe he’s right, this is not the time.
“Yeah, yeah, too bad. He was busy,” I babble.
“We’ll have a chance to make it up. Maybe next week?” my mother chirps with a smile on her lips.
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?” she asks, confused. Across the table, Alex and Stella freeze.
“Because…” I clear my throat. “Because he’s really busy right now.”
A moment of silence follows in which my mother turns in her chair to observe me. “Everything is okay between you two, isn’t it?”
I plaster my fakest smile on my face, inhale slowly, and nod. “Yeah, Mom, everything’s great.”
“Oh, thank goodness, I feared the worst for a moment.” She laughs in relief, bringing one hand to her chest. With the other she squeezes Victor’s fingers. “You know, his father, Edward Baker, is the CEO of an oil company.”
Oh my God. Again? I slump back against my chair inelegantly. I could use a whole bottle of wine right now. Too bad my stomach revolts at the very thought. “He owns a lot of property here in Oregon as well as in a variety of countries. He’s a very important man, so he’s always away on business. His son is already working hard to follow in his footsteps,” my mother concludes, while I stifle the urge to burst into hearty laughter.
“He sounds like a great guy, this Travis,” Victor says, turning to my mother.
Give me a break.
“Mom, please. Can we stop talking about Travis?”
“You’re right, dear. It is not nice to talk about someone when they aren’t present,” my mother says.
The conversation turns to Alex’s mother’s work. Because my mother, it seems, is only interested in talking about money and careers. When we finish dinner, Mom gets up and starts clearing the table. Victor offers to give her a hand, but she insists that he is a guest and should join Alex and Stella in the living room. Left in the kitchen, I am about to load the dishwasher when my mother sneaks up behind me.
“Honey!”
“Mom! You scared me,” I gasp.
“Shh! So, tell me: What do you think?” she murmurs enthusiastically.
“Why are you whispering?” I whisper back.
“I don’t want them to hear us. Come on, tell me: Do you like him?” I toss a glance at Victor in the other room. Only the hallway separates us.
