Page 85 of This Thing Between Us

“More for me.” I sipped his drink and settled the cup next to mine. Calling up Katie’s contact info, I placed a call but only got her answering machine.

Her sudden unresponsiveness rubbed me the wrong way. My paranoid, high-school self would think she was messing with me. I hated that I still had these feelings to work through.

Fortunately, it didn’t stop me from starting my rounds to the local shops in town that might be great for sponsoring the shuttle busses. I also planned to ask Barb if any of the current major donors might be interested in ponying up a little more money to pay for the expense. Although, after crunching some numbers, we wouldn’t need nearly as much money as I originally thought, thanks largely due to the fact that Jack wasn’t charging us a venue fee.

About halfway through my list of places to visit I consulted my binder to make sure I was heading in the right direction to the new jewelry store. Apparently, the owner needed some extra marketing done before the holidays and thought providing a small sponsorship for the gala might be fruitful.

It was my job to convince him it was.

While walking down the sidewalk, just a block from my destination, the tiny hairs on my arm raised. My Spidey senses tingled.

I looked around to find the cause of my alarm.

There, across the street, stood my mother. She stared at me, frozen in place.

Steeling myself, I made to cross the street, making sure to look both ways.

I gave a little wave to my mother as I approached. “Hi,” I said.

She looked at me like I was a stranger, her head tilting in an almost alien way.

“You look older,” she commented, her voice strained, her throat sounding dry.

“That’s because you haven’t seen me in ten years,” I bit back.

She grimaced. “Only because you didn’t want to be seen. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you.”

I moved out of the way as people pushed past us, the sidewalk getting busy with rush hour traffic.

Searching, I found a small bench a block away. “Why don’t we take a seat over there for a second and talk?” I pointed toward the bench, slowly starting to make my way over to it as I watched my mother decide whether or not to follow.

Reluctantly, she did, and I wiped my nervous hands on my coat as I thought about what I wanted to say to her.

It had been ten years since we had seen each other. Well, unless you counted when she hit my car.

Not exactly the best way to see your mom again.

We sat down next to each other, neither of us daring to speak. Years of pain, frustration and fear bubbled to the surface as I waited for her to break the ice.

I should have known better.

I would need to do it.

“Are you okay after the accident?” There, at least once of us said something.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m fine. You?” She finally looked up as if to examine me for injuries.

I shrugged. “Nothing is broken, and my car is fixable.”

She nodded. “That’s good. I was worried.”

That knocked the air right out of my lungs. My hands white knuckled the bench beneath me.

“Where are you working these days?” I silently prayed that she did have a job, that she was at least trying to get on her feet and do what she needed to do. The alternative was too painful to consider.

Even though I’d never forgive my mother for our shitty upbringing didn’t mean I didn’t want her to succeed. Distance had given me the perspective I needed. The realization that my mother was just a person. A very flawed person, but one, nonetheless.

“I’m doing some housecleaning for a few folks in town.”

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