“Of course I’ve got it.” Dyma was leading the way on the single-track trail, clearly holding herself back from whooshing on ahead. “It’s a grand total of two school days. I’m just trying to make you feel guilty.”
“Well, congratulations,” Jennifer said. “And I’m not sure it’s appropriate to explain too much about what happened. Why I asked you to come, that is.” She hadn’t told Dyma she was getting laid off yet. She had two weeks before the axe fell. Maybe she’d have a new job by then, and Dyma didn’t need to be worrying about that.
Her daughter turned around to look at her, not falling over, and sighed, trying to appear martyred. It wasn’t a look that came easily to her. Her hair still stuck straight up around her ear-warmer headband, but the black hair she’d been born with had fallen out and come back pale blonde, her pixie face was impish, she had a dimple in each cheek, and her whole five-foot-two-inch self radiated the kind of confidence and vitality that only came from inside you. And then there were the piercings.
“Mom,” she said. “We’re bonding. That’s clearly why you wanted me to come. I’m turning nineteen in three months, I’m about to leave home forever, and we’re forging a new relationship based on possessing equal adult status. Really equal, if that guy wanted to hook up with both of us. Mother-daughter? That is so squick-worthy. That’s the ultimate squick. But as we’re seeing, our new relationship can be difficult to navigate, which means open communication is vital.”
“Except that I’m still the mother,” Jennifer said.
“A mother with a story to tell,” Dyma said. “Come on. Look how quickly you picked up on Peyton. You have wisdom to impart, clearly. Who knew?”
“Gee, thanks. And that’s supposed to be general advice I’m offering, not my specific experiences.”
Dyma sighed again. “Mom. We’re having a moment. You’re having a moment. You look awesome, probably because you’ve been working out more. Besides, your ski pants are tight, and you have that booty guys are always talking about. Peyton sure thinks you look awesome. Hey, you’re a cougar! And you took me on a sort-of spontaneous sort-of vacation. All right, it wouldn’t have been my first choice of place and it’s only for three days, but it’s cooler than I thought, and it’s free, so who’s complaining? And you’re about to have an empty nest, which means new possibilities. Change is good. The Tao says, ‘If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.’”
Jennifer kind of hated the Tao. It was like that annoying friend who always turned out to be right.
Dyma said, “Tell me. How am I going to go away and leave you and Grandpa if I don’t even know what’s going on?”
“Ha. You’re dying to go away and leave me and Grandpa.”
“Exactly. Exactly.” As usual, Dyma looked like she could bounce right off her skis. “But I can’t, not unless I know you can handle the transition.”
“All right,” Jennifer said. “I broke up with Mark. There you go.”
“Well, I figured,” Dyma said. “When you came home alone and went straight into your room. Why? I mean, he’s not the most exciting guy ever, but you’re not the most exciting person either. I don’t mean it like that,” she hastened to add. “Just … you’re not exactly a risk-taker. And hey, at least he wasn’t creepy around me or anything, right? Low bar, but still. So what happened? What did he say?”
Jennifer had thought she wanted drama. Drama, it turned out, wasn’t all that wonderful.
She’d waited until after dinner. Of course she had, because her grandpa liked to eat at six-thirty, it was already past six, and beef stroganoff took forty-five minutes. This was the problem with not being a drama person. How did you do drama and still get dinner on the table? Or didn’t you worry about dinner? Were you supposed to just eat ice cream from the carton afterwards, like in the movies? In which case, what did your daughter and your grandpa eat? Did you tell your daughter to make dinner? That could start the drama early, though. She could only manage one piece of drama at a time.
That was why she’d waited. After dinner, though, instead of starting to clear the table, she told Mark, “Let’s take a walk.”
“I thought we’d go back to your place,” Mark said. “It’s cold out.”
“I don’t want to go back to my place. I want to take a walk.”
That had possibly come out a little forcefully, because her grandpa looked up, Mark looked startled, and Dyma said, “I’m going home. Lots of homework.”
“Help Grandpa with the dishes first,” Jennifer said.
“I am,” Dyma said. “I wasn’t going to leave them for him. Give me some credit.”
“Don’t mind me,” Oscar said. “Miss Dynamite and I have got the dishes. Go take your walk.”
His blue eyes were sharp. Watchful. He could probably tell that Jennifer was thinking about abandoning him. She got a stab of guilt right to the heart, but she also got her coat.
Once they were on the sidewalk, she tried to figure out how to start. What did she even want to say? What did she even want?
Mark said, “What is this, a new fitness kick? I keep telling you, babe, you look fine.”
What a ringing endorsement. “No,” she said. “But I’m thinking about moving. To Portland. Possibly.”
“Oh,” he said blankly. “What about Dyma?”
“Not now. Once she graduates.”
“That’s a long way away.”
“It’s four months.”
“Like I said. A long way. Why are you worrying about it now? Or—wait. Does Orbison want you to work for him there?”
She took a breath. “No. I’m getting laid off. And I’m thinking that I need to move on. Move ahead. In my life. Now that Dyma’s leaving, and I don’t have a job, and so forth. Time to try something new. Time to shake things up.” Time to shut up, was what. But Mark wasn’t saying anything. Why not?
“Wait,” he said. “Is this about us? I mean, sorry about the layoff, but you can get a new job. You’ve got great skills. So what’s this all about?”
“What?” she said. “No. I just told you. I’m talking about moving on. Moving ahead. All that.”
“Except that it’s some kind of ultimatum,” he said. “Some kind of marriage thing. I told you, I’ve done that. It wasn’t fun. We’re still having fun. If we were married—boom, fun’s gone. I’m a stepdad, you’re telling me we need to buy a house, I’m cleaning gutters. Even more responsibilities. Who needs it?”
“You’re right,” she said, and he looked surprised. Also gratified. Like, That was easy. Which was what she was. Easy. Go along with anything. Don’t ask for more. “Except that I’m not sure how fun this is. Seriously? This is enough for you? This is the best we can do? Hanging out?”
“We had dinner,” he objected.
“Which I cooked. Which is exactly like being married for me, but you didn’t even have to pay for it.”
She couldn’t believe how she sounded. Bitchy. Dramatic. And yet somehow, she was going on. “And, no, it’s not some kind of ultimatum, because you clearly don’t want to marry me, or we’d have done it.”