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“Yes, to the store. Why is that so strange?”
“Because you never asked me to go to the store with you. If I remember correctly, the last time you took me, you told me I was a hooligan and you’d never bring me ever again.”
Mom places her hands on her hips and gives me that stern look I was very familiar with. “Last time I took you to the store, you were ten, and you and your brother got into a fight and took out a whole shelf.”
I wince softly as the memory flashes in my mind. As always, she’s right.
“I’d assumed you’d grown up since then and learned how to behave in public. Besides, I barely get to see you, so excuse me if I want to spend a little time with my son beforehe scurries off once again and doesn’t return home for another four years.”
There is no anger in her voice, but I can’t help the guilt that slams into me; her words are like a punch to my gut.
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“It’s fine.” She waves me off. “Kids are supposed to grow up and live their lives, form their families. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” Her gaze goes to my laptop, her eyes narrowing as she reads over my shoulder. “Is that… an essay?”
Fuck.
“It’s nothing important.” I turn around and quickly check if the file is saved before I close it. “C’mon, let’s go—”
“Why would you write an essay?”
I let out a sigh, knowing there was no way she’d let this go now that she saw it.
I run my hand over my jaw, feeling a few days old stubble scratching at my fingers. “It’s for class, okay?”
“Class? But didn’t you…”
Her voice trails off, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how that was supposed to end.
“Drop out of college to enter the draft?” I finish for her. “No, I put it on pause. I’ll be taking summer online classes until I can finish. I’ll probably need that degree eventually.”
“You’re…”
A beaming smile spreads over her lips, her hand cupping my cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s fine.”
She wouldn’t be the first nor the last person who judged me before getting the full story. Closing the laptop, I push to my feet. “So, are we going to the store or what?”
“Yeah, of course. Just let me grab my bag.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in my SUV, driving into town. Mom chatters all the way there, telling me all the things that I’vemissed since I’ve been away. I listen with half an ear, making appropriate noises every now and then, so she knows I’m listening, although barely.
One thing I most definitely didn’t miss about Bluebonnet was all the gossip mingling around.
Once at the store, I grab the cart and trail after Mom as she pulls out a list—a physical one—and starts tossing things inside like her life depends on it.
I spot the hygiene aisle, the empty shampoo bottle in my bathroom flashing in my mind. “Hey, I’ll just go and grab something.”
Mom waves me away without lifting an eye as she compares two bottles of God knows what, so I push the cart toward the shampoo section. It takes me a moment to find the right one, and when I return to where I left Mom, she’s nowhere to be found.
I glance left and right.
Where is sh—
“Miguel Fernandez, what a pleasant surprise!”
I turn around to find two women standing together at the end of the aisle. They’re almost like twins, dressed in matching summer dresses and heels, their long hair falling in curls down their back, bright red lips curling in a smile as their eyes take me in from head to toe.
