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She came to a hard stop, her eyes widening like a homeless person had actually dared to speak to her. “What?”
I smiled to myself as I looped my arm through hers, my voice excited now. “It's just a block or two away. Their food is amazing. And they're not too expensive.”
She went so rigid that it would have only taken the slightest misstep to break her in two. “Oh honey, we don't have to pinch pennies. You know your father is tenured.”
It was my turn to pause and look at her with wide eyed disbelief. I gazed at her perfectly arranged features: eyes blue and so naive, aristocratic nose tipped so high that she couldn't see that there was a world around us where people were carrying bags filled with expensive clothes while other people were covered in tattered ones. Her lips were covered in a blush pink, and her blonde hair was pulled into a ballerina bun that made me think of the princess junk she forced down my throat as a child. My mother lived in a dream world where she didn't have a credit limit and she was too good to eat among the peasants.
She took the pause as an opportunity to extricate herself from me, pulling out her compact to check her reflection. “Penelope, the burger place sounds adorable, but I'm in no mood for some greasy mess.” Once she confirmed that she was still beautiful, she snapped the mirror closed and flashed me a sympathetic smile. “How about I cover lunch?”
That was so far from the point that it was ridiculous. “You are aware that dad and I are both teachers, right?” My words shook and the little voice I usually listened to that told me to avoid confrontation at all costs was sounding off. It reminded me that raising my blood pressure because of my mother's antics just stressed me out. There was no combination of words or alternate methods of communication that could get through to her. She was an impenetrable fortress of obliviousness, so why bother? But there was another feeling that swarmed in my gut besides helplessness. It was the warmth that spread like wildfire when Xander looked at me like I wasn't a disappointment. Like I deserved respect, but I had to demand it. “You act like what we do is the equivalent of a person that collects trash and the mayor who sits on his throne in City Hall.”
“Your dad is a professor, Penelope.” Her crisp tone matched the rap of her stilettos as she marched forward. “There's a bit of a difference between what he does and what you do.”
I followed behind her, trying to tame the urge to scream. Of course what we did was different, and I knew my father did well for himself, but we both worked in education and it was far from the land of milk and honey. We both helped change lives and inspire our students. “You're right, but we both work hard-”
“You work too hard.” We were shoulder to shoulder and she threw me a despondent look like all the hope had gone out of the world. “You were always such a lovely writer. I wanted you to find a nice man with a good job so you could write the next Great American Novel-”
“That's what you want,” I butted in. “I'm doing what I want. I'm helping kids and living within my means.” I made the last sentence sharp enough that she clenched her jaw. She never talked about their finances, but I'd overheard conversations where my father lamented about her shopping habits.
My mother came from a working class family. Grandma Jo worked at a grocery store until retirement, and Gramps was a mechanic who still worked a couple of days down at the auto shop to make ends meet since they were on a fixed income. Despite the designer dresses and Louis Vuitton handbags, I knew that my mother remembered what it was like to have very little. I was no psychiatrist, but I had a feeling it was one of the reasons she felt the need to overcompensate and flash brand names like she was a seasoned member of the upper class. Expensive things made her happy, but I believed there were more important things in life than money.
That final thought made my stomach flip flop. Considering my current predicament, I was a bit of a hypocrite. What about the 20k check that Xander was handing over in a month? I remembered salivating when he dropped that figure like it was nothing. How could I fault my mom for obsessing over money when I was choosing money and security over the risk of falling for him?
I wasn't ready to answer that question and when I saw the orange sign for Super Burger glittering a few feet away, I took the reprieve. “We're here!”
I bounded through the door, the smell of meat and bread and garlic and onions beckoning me and making my stomach growl.
I stopped at the back of the line and realized that I was standing in the line alone. Two giggling teenagers filed in behind me and I craned my neck to look past them and saw my mother standing outside, wringing her hands like this was the hardest thing she'd ever have to do. Just when I was gearing up to personally usher her inside, she took a breath and slowly worked her way to the door. We locked gazes and the sour look on her face deepened. It was her silent way of telling me that she was making a grand sacrifice and expected to be praised in kind.
I could have made a big deal out of my mother acting like she'd rather chew off her arm than go to a burger joint; point out things like the stools and tables that hadn't been cleared, the name tags, and how we'd smell like fries for hours, but I was never one for rubbing someone's nose in it. I knew this was a victory, however small, and that was enough for me.
I swiped a paper menu for her benefit. I already knew I wanted the biggest, juiciest burger with everything but the kitchen sink on it. “Wanna take a look?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slightly. She looked pale, like she could see an unfortunate end with every moment that ticked by and she remained in this godforsaken restaurant. “This is your party. I'll trust your judgment.”
I ordered two of my mega burgers and bit back a laugh when she let out a croak, instantly regretting her decision to let me take the wheel. I handed over my debit card and paid for the meal, then slowly guided her to a table closest to the exit, just to put her at ease. “It'll be delicious, trust me.”
She swiped a handful of napkins and scrubbed down our table and chairs. Despite her extra dose of cleaning, she gingerly lowered herself onto the stool. “If you say so, dear.” She slapped a tentative smile on her face and delicately placed her hands in her lap. I had to admit, there was a charm in my mom with her pearls and heels, perched on a stool in Super Burger. I must have been gawking because her brow arched toward the ceiling.
“What?”
“Normal looks good on you, Mom.”
She dismissed that with a huff. “Penelope, you act as if I think I'm the queen of England. I am perfectly capable of eating burgers, I just prefer them at a-”
“Expensive?” I offered.
“Reputable establishment,” she finished with a narrowed gaze. “And before you give me the rundown of Super Burger's most recent reviews, I'm sure it will be an...interesting experience.” She sniffed and spun her pearl earring a few times before she flashed me a more genuine smile. “Since it's just you and I, I'd love to hear more about Xander.”
The sound of his name brought on a flurry of butterflies that wouldn't stop flapping. I couldn't hide the joy that lit up my face. “He's amazing, Mom.” He was always on my mind these days, so I didn't even have to try to pull up his handsome face. That knee quaking smirk that reduced me to a stuttering idiot. The eyes that I wanted to just dive into. “He makes me feel special, and it's like he's not even trying. I've never felt so natural with someone so quickly.” I dropped my eyes go my lap and immediately was bombarded with the warmth of arousal, remembering the last time we were together. The way he told me to come sit beside him and touched me. He'd branded me in such a way that every time I went out to eat, I'd think of him fingering me beneath the table. It was sexy and more than a little distracting considering my mom was beside me. “I'm really happy.”
“And he does well for himself? Your father looked him up on Google and he's apparently very wealthy.”
It took her no effort at all to knock all the air from my sails and plunk me back in reality. I should have known when she asked about him she was really asking for his most recent 1040.
“Yes.” I clenched my teeth. “He's wealthy.”
“That's fantastic, Penelope!” Suddenly, she could care less if we were at a burger place or some hole in the wall with God knows what glommed on the table. I could see the dollar signs in her aquamarine eyes. Me landing a rich dude brought her more pride than any of the other things I'd accomplished. The rage snuffed out all the joy that flickered when she said his name.
