How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,16
said.
“But this one was special to you. How did it go?”
“It went great,” I said, unable to fight off a smile.
“See?!” Mom yelled. “I knew it! I need to call Sunny, Lake, and Joni. Tell them we did it.”
Yeah. You did it. With your rocks and beads and candles. With your thing that looks like a giant marijuana joint. It has nothing to do with me working, studying, putting in the time, effort…
“I got a new apartment,” I said.
“Didn’t you just move?”
“No. That was a long time ago.”
“I thought you liked having a roommate,” Mom said.
“Not this one.”
Mom laughed. “Not this one, huh?”
“What?”
“Oh, Callie. You never got along with other girls. You were never a girl to be friends with.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. You were just always… overpowering. You wanted to control everything. Everyone. Again, not saying it’s a bad thing. You were made for what you do. Kick the asses of men who think they have it made.”
I appreciated the words, in a sense.
But my deepest fire that raged was survival.
When my mother was looking for a feather or a stone as a sign that we were going to survive, I was trying to sell lemonade or come up with some other business plan to help.
“Callie?”
“I’m still here, sorry. Just thinking. Um… yeah. It’s good though. Today went well. I closed a big deal. I’m actually going over to my new apartment right now. I finally have my own place. I need it.”
“Sure you do,” Mom said. “Just don’t isolate yourself. Don’t make your work the only thing you talk to. We’re humans, Callie. We’re meant to be social. We’re meant to talk, laugh, cry, flirt… have sex…”
She whispered those last two words.
I rolled my eyes.
My mother trying to tell me to have sex did nothing to help my sex life.
“Mom,” I said.
“Right,” she said. “You’re young, making money, a bad ass businesswoman… but I can hear it in your voice. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Mom,” I said again.
“Callie,” she teased.
“Why did you call?”
She let out a small groan. “I realized something. About the car.”
“What about the car?”
I swallowed hard, waiting for it to come…
“I must have messed up my months, Callie. I’ve been busy at the shop. Reorganizing inventory. Helping customers. We’re really making progress…”
All those rocks and feathers and signs I had mentioned? My mother opened a small shop to sell all of that. To some, it was a strange knick-knack shop. To my mother, her friends, and the few customers she had, they believed in it quite a bit. The only problem was that it was just a few customers. Which meant money was not exactly their friend.
“How many months did you mess up?” I asked.
“Callie, don’t say it like that. I didn’t do this on purpose.”
“I know that, Mom. But just please…”
“Three,” she said.
“Three months of cars payments,” I said.
“I don’t want you to pay those,” she said. “No, no, no. Maybe you can call and talk to them? You’re a business person. You can negotiate.”
You took out a loan for a car you can’t really afford. For someone who doesn’t believe in material things… but anyway… you have to pay it back. That’s how a loan works.
“I’ll handle it,” I said. “You focus on the shop. I’ll call.”
“Let me give you the number and the information,” she said.
“I have it,” I said.
“Oh. Right.”
It wasn’t the first time I had to make this call.
“Well, this is good,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you, Callie. I do wish you’d come by the shop. Hang out a little. Let us help you. Not that you need help, but you know what I meant. We can show you ways to organize your energy.”
“Let me get settled into my new apartment first,” I said.
“Deal. And, hey, maybe I’ll stop by and see it. Text me the address.”
“Will do, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you right back,” she said.
I ended her call and placed another call.
To the financing company for her car.
I wasn’t going to negotiate payments.
I was just going to pay the loan up to date… like I always did.
I shoved all those familiar feelings of anger, annoyance, feeling let down… even guilt for some reason…
I shoved them all down into the pit of stomach so they could burn away.
The car came to a stop and I thanked the driver and got out.