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My head shot up in surprise, anger, and confusion. “Mom! How could you say something like that?”
“Something like what? We're all mortal, honey, and as much as I like to believe, I will be here for every moment of your life, proudly watching you become the woman I always knew you could be. I'm not going to live forever.”
The lump in my throat grew bigger. “But you're going to live long enough to see me through college.”
“I hope so,” she sighed.
“Mom. Don't talk like that.” Tears were burning the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“I'm sorry, Aster. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just sometimes, when I'm at home, I worry about you.”
“You shouldn't. I'm doing fantastic.”
“I know. I know. I just don’t think it would hurt to make a few friends, and maybe have a good time with people that aren’t your professors.”
“Yeah,” I drawled out, trying my best to figure out how I felt about her confronting me like this. I wanted to feel embarrassed she was suggesting I make friends like I was a child, but I couldn’t. Because deep down, I knew she might be right. There weren't many things that could break me in this world but losing her would be one of them.
“What about those nice girls at Alpha Delta Theta? They were so excited to hear you were joining Covey last year, and I’m sure they’d figure out a way to let you in out of rush.” Those nice girls? I wanted to laugh because the only person who came to mind was Rachel. Vapid and bitchy. I didn’t think she was the type of girl I’d want to be friends with. That was certainly made clear when I found her kissing Connor in the study room I was supposed to be meeting him in.
Not that I ever told my mom that was who I found Connor cheating on me with. I didn't think that would help anything, and she was so up in the sorority's business still, I thought she might confront Rachel about it.
“How did things go at that last gathering?”
How do you tell your mother that the last gathering you went to was horrible because Rachel brought Connor as her date and rubbed it in your face the whole time?
Silence hung in the air for a minute because we both knew I wasn’t exactly sorority material, but my mom was president when she attended Covey U, which meant there was always an expectation for me to join. Hell, the first day I arrived, Rachel was waiting at my dorm, ready to recruit me.
Thinking back to it, I may have been less than pleasant when she introduced herself, calling the whole thing an outdated institution, and I didn't want to be part of it. I was still getting over my grunge phase, so the idea of doing anything that might force me into short skirts and patriarchal standards was out of the window.
Unfortunately for me, that surly attitude had put the idea of joining willingly down the toilet. Rachel hated me ever since, which didn't bother me much the first year. I was used to it. A lot of people didn't like me, and I was okay with that. I wasn’t for everyone, but to get me back by kissing my boyfriend. Well, that was cold.
“You know.” My mom's voice broke through my thoughts. “I'd really love it if I could see you there.”
There she was, layering on the guilt again like it was a stack of pancakes, and I was forced to eat every last maple covered one. Maybe I should just come out and tell her the truth?
But as she gave me her over-eager smile, I knew I couldn't do it, because breaking her dreams over some lacklustre sorority girl wasn't worth it.
“You know, it’s not really my thing.” It was my polite way of saying that she had a better chance of seeing me dressed in a Covey Crushers hockey jersey with Connor’s last name on it than at any of those stupid sorority balls they throw. “Mhm,” she hummed out. “You said the same thing about mathematics and look at you now. You want to be a statistician.”
I flattened my lips, giving her a pedantic look. “That was when I was five. The best thing about aging is that I know a lot more about my likes and dislikes now.”
“You're only twenty-one. Your father was telling me that your brain hasn't fully developed yet. I'll be honest. I don't think you've made enough friends in your lifetime to know if having fun with them is something you might like to do.”
The burn from her words was so severe, I could have sworn it caused my hair to split.
“What does my brain development have to do with having fun?”
“Everything. Who knows how you’d feel if you got those neurons firing over something other than reading a textbook.”
“I'd rather not discuss firing my neurons with you.”
“Exactly. Find a friend. Have fun. Bond over your shared hate of pickle ball players.”
“Pickle ball? Connor was a Hockey player.”
“I know. I've been thinking about it, and I think a hockey player is a little too wild for you. A pickle ball player would be more in tune with you.”
“I don't even know what pickle ball is.” I thought about whacking a ball with a pickle like a baseball player would and shook my head, because that didn't matter.
