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“Tired,” Mom repeats. “I know the feeling.”
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her. “It must be difficult…”
I don’t need to say anything else. She’s one of Jacob’s assistants, and apparently, he’s a bit of a hard-ass.Coldandbluntandscaryare words Mom has used to describe him.
“When he asked me to collect some files for him earlier,” Mom says, “I thought I was going to melt. It’s the way he looks at me… it’s never outright rude. He’s always polite, but there’s something in his eyes…”
I swallow a ridiculous, angry response. It’s not as if I can yell at Mom for getting that weird, dreamy lilt to her tone, one I’ve never heard before. Sure, Jacob may be just a rude jerk, and that’s why Mom’s voice shakes when she talks about him. Is there something else going on? What if shelikeshim?
Mom hasn’t had much luck in dating. First with my dad, who ran out on her when she was eighteen and pregnant, igniting my desire to become a truth seeker, to uncover mysteries. Then later, a series of boyfriends who never treated her right. Perhaps Mom thinks Jacob is going to change everything. He’s the man she’s been waiting for, which is fine… I have to believe that. I can’t imagine competing with Mom for a man.
I’ve seen Jacob in a few photos online, researched him a little, and learned about his determination to always get down to the facts, but that doesn’t mean these feelings nestled deep are facts.
I’ve never had a crush. I’ve never daydreamed about a man while at the restaurant, serving patrons, or while working on my budding journalist website. I’ve never had a man wander endlessly into my thoughts, tempting me… until Jacob.
“But the money’s good,” Mom goes on in a musing tone, “and it’s better than the lawyer’s office. Or the call center. Or the carwash.”
“I love you, Mom,” I say.
She leans back like she didn’t expect that. Maybe it’s because she can tell part of it comes from guilt, from knowing that I’m nurturing a need that would twist Mom up. Either I’m crushing on her mean bully of a boss or I’m crushing on a manshe’scrushing on.
“I love you too,” she says after a pause.
“I just want you to know I’m grateful,” I say. “Reallygrateful. You’ve worked so hard to give me a good life. Having a child at eighteen, alone, and raising her… alone. It’s impressive.You’reimpressive.”
Her smile is pure warmth, but then it falters.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
She stands quickly. “Oh,crap.”
“What?” I ask.
“I left my USB storage device at work. It’s got important material on it. Oh, crap, crap.”
I normally laugh when Mom gets herself into a state like this. Not in a mean way, but it reminds me how young she is, thirty-seven, but with soft features that make her appear even younger. When she gets anxious, mutteringcrap, it’s almost like she’s my sister.
She’s not freaking over leaving a lasagna too long in the oven or forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning. She’s already walking toward her bedroom. Her exhaustion is clear in her movements, the way she drags her limbs as though she’s ready to collapse any second.
“Where are you going?”
She pauses. “Where do you think? I have to get the drive. If somebody arrives tomorrow and sees I’ve left it on my desk… I need this job.Weneed this job.”
I glance at the clock. It’s nine thirty p.m. “Mom, you’ve got work again soon. You should be sleeping.”
She scoffs. “I won’t be able to sleep if—”
“I’ll go,” I say suddenly. “Give me your pass.”
She turns, facing me fully. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not even a little. I love driving ever since I passed my test. It’s awesome. It’s practice.”
Even if I hated driving, I’d say whatever was necessary to convince Mom to let me do this. She deserves a rest after working so many hours.
Jacob’s company is in the middle of a merger with an online-based distribution platform, resulting in heated meetings, shouting, and long hours for all Jacob’s employees… including Mom. She’ll be gone early tomorrow, long before I wake up to leave for the restaurant.
“And you need your sleep,” I tell her.
