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I think I’m going to puke.
Six
I stand outside of Roast Haven Café for longer than would be considered normal, staring at the doors while trying to bolster my courage before I enter.
I’m really going to see Mom. I used to dream of this moment, but as I grew up and realized she was never coming back, I forced myself to stop thinking about it.
I had to harden my heart against her to protect myself from getting hurt, and just because she’s here doesn’t mean I feel any different. But there’s still a part of me, the same pathetic part that was excited about meeting Dario despite knowing better, that wants thissobad.
My reflection stares back at me in the coffee shop window. My hair is neatly parted, my winged eyeliner is almost symmetrical since I used a little piece of tape like Gia once showed me, and my pink lip gloss makes my lips look extra pouty.
I look pretty. I look like Itried.
I scowl at my reflection, using the back of my hand to wipe away the lip gloss. Then I flip my head upside down and shake my hair out, trying to make it look less perfect, lessI wanted to look good because I care about what youthink of meand morethis is just another day. I flip my hair back up and settle it around my shoulders. It’s frizzy, and chunky strands crisscross through my part, but I resist the urge to smooth it out.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out to find a text from Jason. Stop stalling and get in there.
Spinning around quickly, I scan the parking lot. Jason hasn’t left; he’s sitting in a parking spot near the back, with a perfect view of me freaking out. I should’ve known he wouldn’t leave until I went in—it’s such a Jason thing to do. But him settling into a parking spot knowing I wouldn’t go in right away does stupid things to my heart.
It almost makes me reply with a text asking him to come in with me. I know he would, but he shouldn’t have to. I can do this.
His eyes meet mine for a second through the windshield, then my phone vibrates again.
You look perfect. Go be yourself.
Warmth spreads through me as I smile appreciatively at him. He returns the gesture and nods with his head to the door.
He’s right. I’ve waited years for this moment, and I can’t wait any longer. I lied to Gia this morning when she asked me to go over her notes for her first public debate, telling her I was going on a date with Jason, so I can’t let that lie be for nothing.
With a parting wave to Jason, I throw open the door to the coffee shop before I can second-guess myself any longer.
I’ve never been here before, but it looks like every other coffee shop in town: small seating areas sectioned off, hardwood and soft warm colors, and the smell of coffee in the air. Underneath the sound of coffee beans being ground, I can hear a song playing softly in the background, and a laugh escapes me when I realize that it’s “Always Be There” by Siren of the Heart. It was playing when Mom dropped us off at Aunt Julie’s before disappearing forever. How ironic that it’s playing again at our reunion. Maybe this time I won’t be too scared to call her out on deserting us.
There are some people working on laptops, a few couples sitting around chatting, and in a dark corner, with a fancy-looking latte in her hands, is Florence. She’s wearing a big, floppy sun hat even though it’s autumn and chilly here in King City, and large sunglasses, like she doesn’t want to be spotted. She smiles big when she sees me, and it takes me off guard for a moment because she seems sogenuinelyexcited, like she’s been waiting forever for this moment too.
I have no memory of getting from the door to Florence’s table, but suddenly I’m in front of her, and she drops the hat and sunglasses onto the table.
“Oh, my gorgeous Siena!” She stands, engulfing me in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much!”
It’s almost surreal to be standing in my mother’s arms; it’s been years, but it’s also like no time has passed at all.
She’s still larger-than-life even though she’s barely taller than me and just as slim. She smells like amber vanilla, light and feminine, exactly the same as I remember, and her hugs are just as tight and all-encompassing.
I don’t return the hug, I couldn’t even if I wanted to with her arms trapping mine, so I stand there and let her squeeze me until she lets go. She holds me at arm’s length, scanning me from head to toe as I do the same to her.
Even with the very slight signs of aging, she looks almost exactly the same as I remember her. She’s beautiful—so,sofreaking beautiful it’s almost laughable that people compare me to her. She’s still blond, still has those piercing green eyes, still has those seductive, full, down-turned lips, still makes you feel like the only person in the room when she turns her attention on you. Charisma always radiated from her without any effort on her part, and it’s no different now. You can instantly tell she doesn’t belong here—she belongs in LA on a big screen.
“Wow, look howbigyou’ve gotten! You were just a scrawny little thing back then, and now look at you!
You’re beautiful! What are you? A 32C? Dress size four?
Six? You look just like me when I was your age! We should get you into modeling, I have a contact who would just love to represent a mini-me. You might have to drop a few pounds, and we’ll have to get that dreadful pink out of your hair, but I know the camera would just love you!”
I step out of her embrace, my mind still trying to process what’s going on. Was my bra size really the first thing she asked me about after all this time?
“Come, come, let’s sit. We have so much to catch up on!” She ushers me to a seat and sits opposite, looking at me expectantly until I finally place my jacket on the chair and sink into it.
“Do you want a drink?” she asks, raising her hand and snapping a few times. “Excuse me? Excuse me? My daughter would like to order something!” she calls to the busy barista on the other side of the shop. To me, she says, “My goodness, they are so slow here. Such a change of pace from LA. I have no idea how I ever lived here. I bought a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store across the street, and I swear if I had gray hairs, ten more of them would’ve grown by the time I got my change back.Helloooooo, I need service here!”
