Page 101 of Hate You, Maybe
“Have some water,” Madelyn says.
“Okay.” I take a long drink, and I only spill a little down the front of me. I’m just wiping my chin on the sleeve of my cardigan—my lucky cardigan, yeah right—when my phone starts ringing in my bag.
“Maybe it’s Dex again,” I blurt, my heart leaping in my chest. “I’ll bet he’s checking in to be sure I’m all right. I wasn’t ready to talk to him before, but I’ve had a couple of wines now. So maybe I will. Anyway, we need to have another ‘adult conversation,’ as they say.” I put that last part in air quotes, then dig in my purse for my phone. “He’s probably worried about me. You know, he got so worried about me at Camp Reboot, and I only went to the bathroom.”
“What’s Camp Reboot?” Madelyn asks.
“Noooo,” I groan, when I see the contact.
“Not Dex?” Madelyn says.
“Nope.” I brace myself against the bar top. “Hey, Mom,” I say. “Sorry, but I can’t really talk to you right now. I’m busy with Madelyn. She’s my new friend at Tequila Mockingbird. Loren’s with Foster. And Bob is with Hildy, but don’t tell anyone they’re married, okay?”
“Sayla?” My mom sounds confused. She should know who she called. “You don’t sound like yourself. Is something wrong?” For once in her life, my mother isn’t launching into astory about herself. Or crying about some problem in her life. Or gushing happy news that’s just for her. “Baby. Have you been drinking?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “Just some wine. But like I told Madelyn, I can hold my liquor.” I hiccup. “At least I think I’m holding them. It’s kind of hard to tell.”
“How much have you had?” My mother is either feeling shy or she doesn’t want to change the subject from my wines. Either way, I’m done talking about me.
“Let’s talk about you, Mom. What’s going on? You must’ve called for a reason.”
“Well … Oh … I … Well.”
Getting her to talk about herself usually isn’t such a chore. “Spill it!”
“I just thought you should know that Eugene and I are back on.”
“Umm.” I blink. Blink. Blink. “Back on what?”
“Ourweddingis back on.”
“Ahhhh. The wedding.” I shoot Madelyn a look and nod at her, even though she’s a new friend, so she doesn’t know my mom. Or Eugene. Or anything about their engagement that was called off but is back on again. I guess. “Why the change of heart?”
My mom stays quiet for a bit. Then she says, “Well, you see, after many long talks and lots of begging on his part, Eugene and I decided on a compromise that works for both of us.”
“Right. Compromise.” My throat goes dry, and there’s a twinge in my stomach.Compromiseis one of those words that’s making me queasy right now. Along withcollaborate. Andcooperate. Sure, they sound good, until you’re the one doing all the compromising. But at least my mom’s not calling to say she quit and she’s moving.
Again.
“Teamwork makes the dream work,” I say, but I’m not sure why. “Sometimes.”
“I couldn’t agree more, baby.” My mom’s tone is brightening, and despite everything else, this makes me glad. That’s always been my role with us. I’m the cheerer-upper. My mom’s the … down-in-the-dumper.
“Anyway, Eugene and I were hoping you’ll still be my maid of honor,” she says.
“Sure,” I say. Or maybe I slur it. “When’s the wedding now?”
“December 25th,” she says.
“Wait. Christmas?” I squint down at my Chardonnay to be sure I haven’t already finished my third drink. “How is keeping the original date a compromise?”
“Eugeneis the one who compromised.”
“I’m not sure that’s how compromise works, Mom. If you got your whole way, that’s not really meeting in the middle.”
“Well.” She’s quiet for another stretch. “I thought you’d be happy for me, Sayla.”
“I am happy for you.” I arrange my face into a grim smile, even though she can’t see me. “I’m just sad for myself.”
