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Taeli
Iwas wrong. Caleb didn’t hate the gem mine. He loved it. When I got home from work, he was sitting at my mother’s table with an assortment of rocks he had collected and a copy of The Gemstone Bible, searching through the pages to identify his finds.
“Look at this one. It’s called a tourmaline, and it’s supposed to soothe panic attacks. And this one is smoky quartz, and it is grounding and helps stabilize negative emotions,” he says proudly as he shows off his rocks.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” I tell him.
He picks up another with a honey-colored hue.
“This one is my favorite. It’s topaz, and it symbolizes honesty, forgiveness, and truth. It matches your eyes,” he says as he places the rough stone in my hand.
I fight back tears as I wrap my fingers around it.
“It’s lovely,” I tell him before dropping it back in his palm to add to his pile of treasures.
“Granna said she knows a jeweler in town who can polish them and make them shine. She’s going to take me tonight to eat pizza, and we’re going to show him all of these.”
“She is?”
That was too easy.
He nods.
“I’m sorry you can’t come,” he says.
“I can’t? Why not?” I ask, feigning hurt.
“It’s a secret,” he says.
Mom comes in and looks over my shoulder.
“He’s quite the miner,” she muses.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him for pizza tonight?” I ask.
Caleb’s panicked eyes snap up to hers.
“No, we are on a Granna-grandson mission. No mothers allowed,” she confirms and winks at him. Then, she whispers to me, “Sara-Beth called. You enjoy your night with the girls.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say over my shoulder as we both watch him find another one of his gems in the book.
I decide it’s time to put a little effort into my appearance. So, I fish out a pair of skinny jeans, a fitted white Alizeh crop top with a tie closure on the side, and a pair of camel-colored ankle booties from the closet. I go a little heavier on the makeup, adding a light foundation, eyelash extensions, and a bold red lip. I curl the ends of my hair and add a tan leather headband to hold it away from my face.
I stand back and inspect the finished product in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door.
Not bad.
I feel more like myself than I have in a long time as I throw my ID, credit card, and lipstick into my cream clutch and head downstairs.
I pour myself a glass of Malbec and wait for the girls. Erin texted that she was picking up Jena and Ansley, another girl we went to high school with, and they were on their way about twenty minutes ago.
I was apprehensive about this get-together. It’s not exactly the triumphant homecoming I envisioned, but now that I’ve got my mission outfit and face on, I’m actually looking forward to the evening.
I finish my wine and place the glass in the sink when I hear the horn blaring outside.
We take a seat at our table, and Erin orders a bucket of craft beer and a plate of nachos.
“Can I have your wine list?” I ask the waitress.
“We have a house white and a house red,” she answers.
“Just the two?” I ask.
“Just the two,” she confirms.
“I’ll take a glass of the red,” I order.
“Me too,” Jena adds.
The waitress turns to Ansley.
“I’m splitting the bucket with Erin, but I’ll take a frosted mason jar and some orange slices, please.”
“You got it. I’ll be back with your drinks and the nachos in a minute, and then I’ll get your order.”
She walks off toward the bar, and we look over the menu.
“What’s good?” I ask.
“The place is called Barbecue and Brews. I’d suggest the barbecue and the beer,” Erin deadpans.
Jena and Ansley giggle.
“I’m not a beer drinker,” I confess.
“I’m not either, but ever since the Appalachian Ridge Brewery opened, I’ve been trying the craft beers they bottle, and some are really good,” Jena informs me.
“Then, why did you order wine?” I ask.
“I didn’t want you to feel like the odd duck, drinking wine alone. But I’m warning you: the house wine here is a step down from domestic beer.”
Great.
“We’ll let you try ours, and then you’ll know if you can acquire a taste or not,” Ansley suggests.
Our drinks hit the table, and we place our dinner orders. They were right; the wine is shit, so I decide to try the beer. It isn’t awful. After the third bottle, it actually starts tasting pretty good.
“Fill me in. I want to hear all about your lives,” I tell them, partly to get the attention off of me, but mostly because I want to know.
Jena speaks up first. “I married Phillip after graduation. You remember him, don’t you?”
I nod. They dated on and off all through our middle and high school years.
“That lasted for about a year before he began drinking to excess, and we started fighting all the time. I finally got fed up and divorced him. That’s when I met Trent,” she explains.
“And Trent is?” I ask.
