I’d been looking forward to seeing her, sharing that OMG moment, but now I felt guilty because I was regretting this dinner already and we hadn’t even made it to the restaurant. There was something else that was bugging me. Mom was a talker. There was no such thing as silence when she was in the vicinity. She’d complain about the dogs or the news or something, letting me off the hook from trying to actually have a conversation.
She was notably quiet, looking out the window like I did as a kid when I was trying to illustrate just how mad I was after an argument.
“What’s wrong?”
She faced me, eyes wide and innocent. “Everything’s fine, Leila. Perfect even--I get to go out with my daughter and celebrate her engagement in her brand new car.”
Both of those occasions should have been things to be happy about and I almost believed she was okay until she flashed me the fakest smile I’d ever seen on her face. If I wasn’t barreling down the freeway, I would have slammed on my brakes.
My mother was a lot of things. She was loud, brash, tactless, giving, and overly excitable. She’d never met a stranger and was fiercely loyal to her family and friends. She was a little celebrity crazy, but who wasn’t these days? Entire careers were built on the public’s voracious need to know everything about the rich and famous.
But she didn’t have a phony bone in her body and when I looked at the curve of her lips, I knew immediately that she wasn’t being honest with me.
I had a couple of options. I could drop it, like she obviously wanted me to, or I could find out what was going on. I stared out at the highway, cars rocketing past us as I weighed out each one. The first meant we could pretend together; turn up the radio and let the music fill the silence until the conversation was kickstarted and we were too busy catching up to remember the lie that started it all. Option two was sure to annoy her which would in turn annoy me and this Mother/Daughter thing would be officially a bust.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, deciding on the easy route. I was getting entirely too good at going with the flow. Fear of rocking the boat was throwing me overboard. Drowning me.
I pressed the volume up button and some upbeat pop song flowed from the speakers. Mom sung a few bars and I had no choice but to smile. She was always talking about my voice, how I could have made it as a singer if I wanted, but I knew I was just ordinary. I could carry a tune and stay on key, but her voice MOVED you. It was deep and full and powerful and at the same time, you could hear the vulnerability and rawness in every note. Only Mom could turn a Kesha song into something deep.
She stopped, noticing that I was watching her. “You better keep your eyes on the road.” She was blushing. Blushing. She was far too confident to be so red, especially around me.
I switched over to the right lane, putting the car in coast so she couldn’t use speed or speeding cars as an excuse. “What’s going on, Mom?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already told you I’m fine.”
“Something’s going on with you.” When she made a face and repositioned in her seat, I let out a sigh. “Is this about the car?”
She dropped a sigh of her own. “I wish you’d let your dad go along with you to make sure you got a good deal, but I know you’re an adult. To answer my question, she finished, “This isn’t about the car.” When I opened my mouth to say ‘Aha!’, she added, “And there is no ‘this’. Because nothing’s going on!”
“You’re mad or bothered by something.”
“Well, if you keep insisting that I’m mad, I probably will be!”
I took the exit for downtown, but I wasn’t going to just drop this. We never talked or saw each other now that I was working full time and living in the city. As crazy as she made me at times, I loved her. We’d gone through so much, but I wanted to be at a place where we could at least talk to each other. I needed that connection.
We came up to a light and I looked over at her. “Please, Mom.”
She looked genuinely uncomfortable and when she met my gaze, there was no pretending that she wasn’t bugging out about something. “It’s not nearly as big a deal as you’re making it.” Her voice sharpened. “Or at least it’s not a big deal to you.”
I was happy the charade was over and annoyed because we were already arguing and we hadn’t even been together for 15 minutes. Of course it was my fault.
The guy behind us laid on his horn and if she wasn’t in the car, I would have flipped him off. Instead, I gritted my teeth and put the car in motion. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“You know I keep up with the news.” She didn’t mean world events. She hated how depressing the news was, filled with up to the second stories about crime and politics. She preferred light, entertainment news. Gossip.
I still wasn’t sure what the news had to do with her weird behavior. “Okay...?” I glanced at her quickly before returning my attention to the road. “Is this about me and Jacob?”
“Yes,” she said tersely.
I was even more confused. All of the recent pictures of me and Jacob were happy ones. Hand in hand, lovey dovey, perfectly boring shots of our day-to-day life.
The heated glare she followed up with nearly made me swerve into another lane. She was freaking pissed.
“So you know exactly what is wrong with me. What hurt me.”
I shook my head no. “I honestly don’t, Mom.”
“I only have one child, Leila,” she bit off.
“I know--” I started, but she didn’t let me get anything else in.
“And you know how excited I am about you and Jacob getting married,” she continued. “So imagine my surprise when I read that Alicia Whitmore was quoted saying how happy she was that you and Jacob are letting her handle the planning process.”
I literally swerved and the car in the next lane slammed on their brakes, the driver honking angrily.
“She said what?” Mom repeated it and I nearly ripped the wheel from the column, imagining doing un-daughterly things--like wringing Alicia's neck. “Mom, that’s news to me.”
She wasn’t buying it. “So that wasn’t you and Jacob meeting his mom and a wedding planner for lunch last week?”
I faltered. “We did, but that was more a courtesy than anything else.”
“I’m your mother, Leila. Don’t you think I deserve the courtesy of being a part of your big day?” Her words were angry, but I heard the tears coating each one. I slowed and pulled into a parking garage. We were still a good ten minute drive form the restaurant, but no way would I get us there in one piece if she started crying. Just looking at how hurt she was made tears burn my eyes.