Dirty English

TWO DAYS AFTER the party, I drove a few miles down the road to meet my mom at a truck stop off the interstate.

I hadn’t seen her in nearly four months, and we only lived three hours apart.

The diner smelled like old grease and deep-fried onion rings, reminding me of my childhood when my mom would bring home takeout from the restaurant where she waited tables.

She waved at me from a red booth at the back.

I walked her way, feeling anxious.

Some people think God puts difficult people in our lives for a reason, to make us better people as we sharpen ourselves on the knife of their shortcomings. That was my mom. She’d destroyed my trust a million times as a child, and eventually I’d learned to stop counting on her. My kindergarten graduation, my first middle school dance, the day I got my acceptance letter to Oakmont Prep, the night with Colby … she’d been gone, off on an adventure with whomever she was seeing. Like a stray dog that whines for scraps, I’d been begging my mom to love me my whole life.

Yet out of my shitty childhood, a strong drive had been forged in my heart.

To be more .

More than the trailer I’d grown up in; more than my alcoholic mother and absent father.

Today she’d put extra effort in, hot-rolling her natural blond hair in big waves and pulling it back with a bejeweled butterfly clip. She wore a pink gingham sundress and her lips were painted a glossy pink. At thirty-nine, she still managed to look farm fresh.

She jumped up to greet me, a bright smile on her face.

“You’re too skinny,” I commented as she gathered me up in a hug, my hands feeling the bones of her spine poking through.

We pulled back, and I studied her face more closely, taking in the hollowed neckline. A tingle of foreboding went over me. It had been a year since her last rehab for alcohol and drugs, and I’d held out hope she’d last longer this time. “You clean?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth, I’m fine. Right as rain.” She laughed at my frown. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

We sat down together.

Her eyes gleamed with a happiness I hadn’t seen in a long time. “I can’t wait for you to meet my new boyfriend, Elizabeth. He’s in the restroom right now, but he’s got real class and is the sexiest man I’ve ever dated.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it this time.” She squirmed in the booth, excitement written on her face. “He’s even going to take me on a one of those cruises to Mexico soon.”

“Fun.” I smiled through my disappointment. I’d thought it would just be us today. “Is he employed?”

She nodded. “And he has dental. What else could I ask for?”

“A washing machine maybe, or I don’t know, a home to live in?”

She’d sold her trailer a year ago and had been bouncing back and forth between boyfriends’ and friends’ houses.

An older man sauntered out of the restroom area in a flowery print Tommy Bahama–type shirt unbuttoned a quarter of the way down, wiry chest hairs poking out like crazy. He was so abundantly hairy I wouldn’t have been surprised if a small monkey lived inside his shirt and was reaching up to say hi.

Balding but hiding it with a greasy combover, he walked toward us, his eyes raking over me, lingering. Long muttonchops came down each side of his face.

My whole body went on high creep alert.

He stopped at our table and his eyes bounced back to my mother. “Yo, baby, you didn’t say she was a looker like her mama. Guess I hit the jackpot today. Now, who do I sit next to?” He let out a belly laugh.

I stiffened.

But this is your mother , I told myself. Be respectful. Give her a chance.

She laughed and blushed. “Stop flirting and sit down and meet my daughter.”

He slid in next to her, and my eyes went back and forth between them.

I’d seen a myriad of men come in and out of our trailer growing up. A few had been decent to me, but she’d never wanted those. Nope. Most had been grade-A assholes, and she’d loved them the most. In my teens—and after a particularly bad episode where I’d found a hidden video camera in my bedroom—I’d managed to avoid a lot of them by staying at Shelley’s most nights.

“Didn’t know you were bringing your boyfriend,” I said, not able to hold back.

“Now don’t be that way, Elizabeth. This is Karl .” She preened at me expectantly. “He owns a used car dealership in Rockport and even gave me a new Impala for my birthday.” She pointed out to the parking lot. “Look, there it is. It’s even got leather interior.”

“Hmm.” I was still reserving judgment.

“Hell yeah, I did, ’cause this hot piece sure does know how to treat a man right.” Sure was shore and right was riiaght , the county twang heavily pronounced, his words elongated.

He leaned in and they kissed each other with visible tongue.

“Nice,” I muttered.

The waitress showed up to take my order, and they separated, Mom straightening her blouse and Karl wiping his mouth and leering at me.

He placed hairy arms on the table. “So you one of those smart girls? I heard you got yourself a scholarship to Whitman with a free ride?”

I nodded. Warily. “Yes, but I get financial aid to pay for living expenses. I work too,” I added.

“Good for you, but these are bad economic times we’re living in. Gotta make a buck where you can.” He took a sip of coffee, eyes skating over me. “Maybe you need to get yourself a sugar daddy like your mama here.”