ANNIE

“Good morning, Amanda,” Claude says. “How are you?”

I roll my eyes, refraining from a smart retort. “Thanks for coming, Clyde.”

He doesn’t notice the name change, but Gran does, and she snorts into her elbow.

“Did you pay?” Gran demands.

She sticks her hand out to Claude and wiggles her finger until he produces a five-dollar bill and hands it over. Gran, bless her heart, is in charge of the money. She’s vicious in her responsibilities. She tried to make the janitor pay before he entered the room, and he was just trying to empty the trash can.

“The really generous folks give twenty,” Gran says. “You’re generous, aren’t you, Claude?”

“How much do swimsuits cost?” he grumbles, digging for another ten to add to the stack.

I give him a grateful smile and load up his plate with a tower of pancakes. My mother returns to the kitchen just as he leaves to take a seat.

“What did I miss?” My mother asks, as the room goes silent. She re-ties the apron around her waist. “What are you two talking about? Not Claude again, I hope.”

“Nope,” Gran says. “Clyde.”

“Mother! You know his name.”

“Sorry,” Gran gives me raised eyebrows. “Amanda started it.”

My mother gives a huff of frustration. “Let’s go. The rush for breakfast will start any second.”

Gran’s roped the whole family and half of the community into helping with this event. Even Leigh had planned to help, up until Dominic surrendered to a stomach bug and she had to call in sick.  Already, it’s been a hit. We’ve earned enough money for the swimsuits and are well on our way to earning enough to donate a large chunk to the local summer camp.

“So, Annie...” My mother resumes conversation in a sweeter than normal voice that has me worried. “I got the phone bill in the mail the other day. Did your father call you?”

I freeze, just as one glop hits the surface and begins to sizzle. “Why?”

“I’m your mother. I’m allowed to be curious. What did he want?”

“We’re having dinner tonight! What’s the big deal?”

“Oh? Twice in one month? Must be a special occasion.”

“Nope.” I blow out a breath, trying for patience. It’s tough this morning. “He’s just my dad.”

“I never did ask. How did your last dinner go with him?”

I won’t lie to her, but I won’t play this game either. I flip pancakes in silence until the awkwardness is too much for Gran to bear.

“So, are you dating that hunk yet?” Gran chirps. “He’s a nice looking man.”

It’s been exactly one week since I started officially dating Cohen, and I haven’t exactly spread the word yet. It’s been a busy week so, in my defense, it’s not like a lot happened between us. His practice schedule has been crazy with playoffs coming up, and my exam schedule is equally nuts thanks to upcoming graduation.

“Boyfriend?” My mom’s voice goes shrill. “You have a boyfriend, Annie, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“Is he here?” My mother fans her face. “For goodness’ sake, Annie. Do you keep everything in your life a secret from me? A boyfriend?!”

“It’s only been, like, one week,” I say in a hushed voice. “It’s nothing serious yet. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you guys to make a big deal out of it.”

“A big deal?!” Mom’s still talking in that weird-pitched voice.

“I’m not making a big deal about it. I’m just wondering why you insist on keeping me out of your life?”

“I’m not keeping you out of my life—it’s just new!”

“Is he coming today?”

“Probably.” I flip the rest of the pancakes onto a plate and face them. “If you guys can’t mind your own business, I’m going to keep things from you. Like this. Because you go and do things like look at my phone bill to see who I’m talking to—this invasion of my privacy is completely unnecessary.”

“It’s just because we love you,” my mother says. “We care about you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gran says. “I love her as much as you, but I’m not peeping at her phone bill.”

“Both of you!” I cross my arms and try to keep my voice low, just between us. No need to ruin a perfectly good breakfast for everyone else. “I’m an adult, and I have been for several years. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder at everything.”

“But—”

“Mom, I know dad sucked as a husband, but he’s still my dad. It’s up to me if I want to have dinner with him or answer his phone calls.”

Gran stays silent, eyes averted, and even my mom stills.

My mother’s back stiffens and she gives a short nod. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

“Mom, no... I didn’t mean to upset you!” I call after her as she turns to head deeper into the kitchen. “Wait a second.”

My mom pushes through a set of double doors into a small back hallway. I have to speed up and literally corner her before she stops moving. It’s not until I grasp her shoulders and manually spin her around to face me that I see why she’s in such a hurry.

There are tears in her eyes, and although she’s trying her best to hide them, they’re there, bright and shining like bits of broken starlight.

“Mom?”

Her lip quivers, but she manages to hold it together. My mother is a tough woman. I’ve never doubted that for a second—I’m just not used to seeing her cry. It takes me a moment to adjust, to gather my thoughts, and in that time I watch her do the same.

“I hate that your father didn’t try harder when we were together,” she says finally, tremors coursing through her words. “Not for me, but for you. For our family.”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay. He missed everything. Your ballet recitals, your flute lessons... he missed our family vacation to Mexico. He stayed home to work that weekend, do you remember?”

Reluctant, I nod. A part of me had pushed those memories away, blanked out the worst ones in the hopes that he’d change. There was always the hope that he’d change. To a small degree, I suppose there still is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going to dinner with him tonight.

“I still love your father. He’s the father of my child—our child.” My mother’s voice is hoarse, raspy as she flicks her gaze over my shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. “But I couldn’t stand to watch him break your heart over and over again.”

There’s a sudden lump in my throat, and I’m finding it hard to speak.

“It wore me down, grated on me over and over again for years. Do you know what it’s like when your husband says he’ll be home for dinner... when he tells his daughter to expect him that evening, and then doesn’t show?”

“Mom—”

“I was the one stuck watching you wait for him on the front curb. Watching as the sun set, and he still wasn’t there. Watching as your smile faded just a little bit with each car that passed and wasn’t his.”

Her hands ball into fists, a tiny bit of a tremor rocking her body.

“Always waiting, always smiling—somehow, you kept a huge grin on your face every time this happened for so long. Too long. You were so optimistic, honey.” A memory of a smile warms her cheeks for a moment, but the memory ages her. Lines her face with those lingering worries, missed dreams, lost hopes. “Nothing could fix the look in your eyes, though, when you finally gave in. When I made you come inside for dinner with one empty place setting.”

My mother pauses for a moment to run a hand across her eyes. She gives one dainty sniff, as if banishing the urge to show any emotion, and continues with dry eyes.

“That’s why I’m with Claude now,” she says. “I need a companion, a friend, someone who is there for me. I’m not looking for more money, more work, more... things. I just want someone’s time. Their presence, a listening ear, or a hug. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

My mom’s never opened up to me about these things before, and I’d never considered the pain she went through. Double the pain, in fact. The pain of losing a husband while her daughter lost faith in her father. I’d been selfish thinking I’d had it the worst.

“But you were always there,” I finally manage to say. “I always had you.”

“We were supposed to be a family. If these things had happened once, twice, three times—I’d understand. I’m a forgiving person, Annie, but hundreds of times? I had nothing left to give.”

My mother’s shoulders sag, and she looks utterly run down. Completely exhausted, as if the memories of these years have returned in full force. I’m hurting for her and, even worse, I don’t know what I said to dredge everything up from the past.

“That’s why I looked through your phone records. I was trying to protect you from more disappointment. I shouldn’t have done it, I know. You’re a beautiful, successful adult.” My mother’s eyes well up again, and finally, one tear slides down her face. “But no matter how brilliant and self-sufficient you are, you’re still my baby.”

My own eyes are smarting. I mumble something nonsensical, but thankfully, my mom opens her arms and gifts me a hug that takes care of any words I want to say.

“I know he missed your last dinner,” she whispers against my ear. “He called that night to see if you’d come home, and of course I was confused. I told him I thought you were with him. We just want you safe more than anything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I murmur against her shoulder. “I didn’t want to call you because it felt like you’d win or something, and I guess... I guess I didn’t want you to be right.”

“Honey...” Her arms rest on my shoulders, her fingers playing with the tips of my hair in the most soothing way. “I’m not perfect. But I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“Thank you for everything, mom, really.” I let the smallest of smiles inch over my face. “For what it’s worth, I knew I could always count on you. Even if he didn’t show up, you did. Every time. You still do.”

The smile on my mom’s face shines a light across those years of exhaustion, adding a luminosity to her skin and turning her age backward. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too,” I mumble through a very weird gurgling noise that occurs as I try to swallow. “I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about my boyfriend.”

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Gran says, apparently having eavesdropped from behind the double doors. “Hello, yes, I’m here. And I came to announce there’s one huge hunk of burnin’ love out there, and I suspect he belongs to my granddaughter.”

My mother laugh-snorts, which makes me laugh-snort. Like mother like daughter.

“Well, I’d better find Clyde—” My mother stops, horrified, a hand to her mouth. “Oh, you little rats!” She points to my grandmother, and then me. “Look what you’ve done! Claude! Claude. Claude!”

“What?” Claude storms into the kitchen. “Who’s calling my name?”

“How are the pancakes?” I ask. “They taste okay?”

“I’d give them three out of five stars.” He nods. “Good work, Amanda.”

“Thanks, Clyde.”

By the time he leaves, my mother’s shoulders are shaking with laughter, and my Gran’s gripping the sink so hard it’s about to fall off. Maybe Claude is just what my mother needs after all.

“You ladies are the worst!” My mother gasps. “Stop it! And get cooking.”

“Wait, mom...” I grab her hand before she can grab her spatula. “Would you like to meet my boyfriend?”