When Alex left, my father was too disgusted to talk to me. He directed everything he wanted to say to my brother. “Joseph, tell your sister, I forbid her to see that boy again.”

 

Joseph looked at me apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. My father’s eyes burned past me. “Joseph, I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

 

“Dad, I can work today too,” I pleaded, hoping he would talk to me.

 

My father turned away from me. He looked out of the giant windows behind his desk with his hands squarely on his hips. Talking over his shoulder to Joseph, he said icily “Son, tell your sister, she won’t be needed today.” He paused, watching his oxen grazing in the paddock. “We’ll be fine without her.”

 

My father’s words stung me, piercing into my heart. I ran up to my room and sobbed into my pillow, muffling my cries.

 

What did Alex think he would accomplish by charging up to my father? He was as bullheaded as my dad.

 

I screamed one last painful cry into my pillow before forcing myself to stop. Crying all day would not resolve any of my problems. Crying would not fix my broken relationships with my dad, my brother, and Alex.

 

Refusing to listen to my father, I was determined to go to work that day.

I dressed for work, pushing back tears. In the mirror, my face was swollen and puffy from sobbing so much. Everyone at work would know I had been crying, but I didn’t care. My desire to prove to my dad and brother that they could count on me meant more to me than the restaurant gossip that would ensue.

 

When I was dressed, I knocked on Joseph’s door. “I’m riding in to work with you,” I said softly through the door.

 

Joseph opened his bedroom door. He was dressed with his keys in hand. Looking unsure, he mumbled, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea you come in today.”

 

“Maybe not, but I can’t stay home and not help out at the restaurant.” Looking past my brother into his room, I noticed clothes piled in a corner and an assortment of energy drinks, Red Bulls and Monsters, scattered on the floor. My brother was normally a neat and tidy person. The unkempt appearance of his room surprised me.

 

Joseph pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about that guy?” He looked betrayed.

 

I put my hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to tell you.”

 

“I get it.” He shrugged my hand away. “You’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m happy for you.”

 

“Thanks.” Joseph was being sincere, making me feel terrible. “I’ve made a mess of everything with Dad.”

 

Joseph looked grim, avoiding the subject of my father. He sighed. “You ready? I’m leaving here in about five.”

 

We heard my father’s car door slam and his Escalade roar down the driveway. His car even sounded pissed.

 

We listened to the growling hum of the engine until it was gone. I looked at my brother with an earnest look. "I'm ready."

 

At the restaurant, my dad avoided me the entire day. I couldn’t face him anyway. If he would have said anything to me, even if it was just to chop onions, I would have erupted into an avalanche of tears.

 

His look of disappointment in his den shook me down into my bones. My father rarely said it, but I knew he was always proud of me for my work ethic and devotion to the family. When I graduated valedictorian from Ocala High, it was one of the few times he said outright how proud he was of me.

 

“You are smart, Jasmine, just like your mother,” he said with pride and a tinge of sadness.

 

Even though Joseph said he forgave me for lying to him, underneath our interactions, something was off. My brother had sacrificed to allow me the time away from the restaurant to go to school. If it wasn’t for his encouragement, I wouldn’t have gone to UF at all. I owed him so much.

 

And what about his dreams? His life? Joseph deserved the freedom to make his own life choices just as much as I did.

 

Throughout the day and into the night, I’d steal glances at my dad and brother, who were hard at work in the kitchen. We were a team, a strong unit. All we had was each other, but I had deceived them both.

 

Joseph and I got home from work at four in the morning. Closing work took longer than usual that night because I needed to catch up on the managerial tasks Joseph couldn’t get to the night before when I’d been at Alex’s place.

 

When I showered and was in bed, I called Alex. It was late, but I had to talk to him. He picked up after a few rings with a groggy voice. “Hello?”

 

“Alex, I’m so sorry.” I kept my voice low, gripping my iPhone tightly to my ear.

 

“Why are you speaking so softly? So your father won’t hear?” Alex asked irritated.

 

I sighed in frustration. “Yes.” There was no use in dancing around the truth. “He doesn’t want me to see you again.”

 

Alex was cold and distant. “Obviously.”

 

I could feel Alex slipping away from me. “Alex, it doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other. We can go back to the way things were. Seeing each other together every day. Our lunch dates?”

 

“I see you for only an hour a day, Jasmine. An hour. And the weekends? Forget about it. I might not even see you at all, depending on your work schedule.”

 

I pleaded with urgency. “I’ll try to fit you in more on the weekends when I can. I promise.”

 

"Fit me in? Do you hear yourself? I need more. I love you. I want to see you more. I want you to be more, a part of my life. I want you to meet my family, but what should I do? Have my parents and my sisters come down to the campus at lunchtime?" He inhaled deeply and exhaled raggedly in defeat. "It kills me to miss you this much all the time."

 

My heart dropped into my stomach. I was touched and pained at the same time. “I miss you too.”

 

“Then give me more. Be my real girlfriend. Love me,” he pleaded.

 

I protested, “I do love you.”

 

“How do I know you really love me if you won’t tell anyone about me. It hurts to be your dirty secret.”

 

“It’s not like that, Alex.”

 

“How can I be sure?” I didn’t know what I could say to convince him. Silence filled the line.

 

Alex sighed. “I have a game tomorrow at one. I hope you will come. After the game, I want to spend the night together.”

 

“I’m not sure I can pull that off, Alex.”

 

“I’m not sure we can be together then.” We were silent for a few moments before Alex yawned. “I’ve got to get to sleep. Good night, Jasmine.”

 

I didn’t want to let him go, but I whispered, “Good night, Alex.”

 

After Alex and I hung up, I couldn’t sleep. Restless, I pulled my laptop onto my bed. I first googled my mother on my 17^th birthday. Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me, a simple Google search could reveal her whereabouts.

 

My search was unsuccessful at first. I scoured through the search results looking for my mother. Clicking on links about a Natalie Fontaine who was a professional tennis player. A Natalie Fontaine that worked for the mayor's office in Portland, Maine. So many other Natalie Fontaine's, but not my mother.

 

A week later, I googled my mother's maiden name, Natalie Gardner. She was the first link I clicked on. The link brought me to the current list of Ph.D. students at Columbia University. The paragraph bio of my mother informed me that she was an art history doctoral student.

 

Her research focused on food, drink, and Xenia, the ancient Greek concept of hospitality, as depicted in Homeric art. I stared at the small thumbnail photograph of her. She looked to be walking on a busy street somewhere, smiling and looking over her shoulder mid-stride, as if someone special in her life had caught her on a leisurely stroll. I wondered who that special someone was.

 

It had been a few years since I’d searched for my mother again. I typed my mother’s name into the Google search bar: Natalie Gardner. It was odd to me that my mother had re-assumed her maiden name, even though my parents were not officially divorced.

 

When were my parents ever going to officially divorce each other? How could my dad every really move on without severing their marriage for good?

 

The search results revealed my mother was a faculty member in the art history department at Northwestern. I followed a link to her biography page that detailed her past work and a long list of publications. Reading the bio, I learned my mother had participated in excavations in Turkey, Greece, and Germany. She was a member of The Archaeological Society at Athens and The American School of Classical Studies at Athens.

 

I tried to imagine my mother in Athens, Greece, but I couldn’t. I had never been to Athens and I no longer knew my mother. Her photograph, a little bigger than her doctoral student one, showed her smiling against a backdrop of jagged rocks. I could only guess this was taken somewhere in Greece.

 

Her bio page included contact information: a telephone number, email, and even her office’s address. Through the years, there were many times where I wondered what a mother’s advice would be, not particularly my mother, just any mother in general.

 

I loved Alex, but I also loved my family, my dad and my brother. There was no need to wonder what advice my mother would have given me if she was here. I was certain she would tell me to leave, quit the family and the restaurant as she had done, and never look back.

 

My mind wandered to Rebecca and Laney and their mother and daughter relationship. Rebecca and my mother met at UF when they were undergrads. Despite studying different majors, they’d naturally been drawn to each other since they were both mothers going back to school for their degrees.

 

When my mother left, Rebecca attempted to reach out to me and offer a motherly shoulder, but I was precocious enough to politely rebuff her kindness, preferring to embrace motherlessness as soon as possible.

 

Rebecca was surely crushed when Laney transferred to Cal, but she wanted her daughter to be happy. She supported Laney’s decision and even threw a huge going away party for her. Eating cake on their patio, I remembered the look on Rebecca’s face: happiness, pride, and sadness mixed into one. She hugged her daughter fiercely with tears in her eyes. Admittedly, I was jealous. I ate three pieces of cake that night.

 

When I woke the next morning, I made a quick call before hopping in the shower. The phone rang for five rings before she answered.

 

“Rebecca. Hi. This is Jasmine. Can you meet me for coffee today?”