Thanksgiving Friday, in keeping with my theme of avoiding Mom, I try to slip out early. I’m meeting Sean at Rowena’s to practice our duet. But Mom stops me.
“Guess what?”
“You’re up early.” Usually, she can’t peel her eyes open until long after I leave.
“Guess I’m excited. You’ll never guess what happened.”
“I don’t have time to guess. I have to go to Rowena’s.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Last night, I talked to Arnold on the phone, and I reminded him of how much I wanted to go to the opera…”
Note: On the phone. So he does spend major holidays with his family.
She’s still talking. “… and he said he was planning on taking me to the very first one … La … something or other. La Trapdoor. Anyway, it’s two weeks from today.”
“That’s great, Mom.” It’s also my opening night—not that I’ve told her about the performances yet. I also haven’t asked her about the summer program in New York. There just hasn’t been the right moment yet. There never seems to be a right moment with Mom.
“And there’s another thing.”
“Mom, I really need to go.”
“But it’s important.” She’s practically jumping up and down. “I think he’s going to propose. He said he wanted to discuss something really important.”
Outside, our neighbor Mrs. Dankes is taking a cereal box out to her garbage can in a pink housecoat and fuzzy slippers. This is what I think about at this point in time, so I won’t have to think about the fact that my mother is officially a homewrecker.
“Caitlin?”
“What makes you think he’ll propose?”
“I told him I wanted to discuss where our relationship’s going. He said he did too, but first he had some things to take care of, so it would have to wait until December. Then I asked him about the opera, and he said that was a good idea and we could talk then. He even gave me money and told me to buy something sparkly to wear … as if I don’t already own something sparkly.”
He probably didn’t mean a belly button ring.
“He probably meant a gown,” I say. “People wear gowns to the opera.”
“Yes, a gown.” Mom sighs. “I feel like a princess. Caitlin …?”
I’m mulling over the fact that my mother is actually taking money from a man she’s sleeping with, so at first, I don’t catch the incredible thing that comes from her mouth.
“Caitlin, you know what to wear to this stuff. Can we go shopping together?”
I stare at her. She’s actually asking me for advice?
Rewind. Stop. Play.
Yes. Yes, she’s asking me for advice. Sort of.
“Please,” she coos. “You always know how to dress … less trendy.”
Nerdy. Boring. Childish.
“It will be fun, shopping together.”
Fun’s not the word I’d choose, but I nod. At this point, I’d agree to anything to get myself out of here. “Gotta go now.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t ask how it went yesterday with Dad. I’m just so excited.”
“Yeah. You said that.”
“I know. But please tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I came, we ate, he gave me an iPod because he heard somewhere that I was into music. It was fine.” I look at my watch.
“Are you sure? I always worry that these visits with your father will tear off little pieces of your soul.”
“No, it was okay.” Actually, what she said sounded really close to the truth, but I have to get out of here before I say something terrible to her. “I’m late.”
“All right.”
I pick up my sheet music and head for the door.
“Caitlin?”
“What?”
“I know you don’t agree, but I really think this will be a good thing for us.”
“Mom, I have to go.”
She nods, and I shut the door.