Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,15
awkward move in the history of moves for you, not to mention missing a whole day of AP classes, and I’ll miss another day on Monday. You should care, because if I need to remind you, those are four more classes we won’t have to pay college tuition for. Plus there’s my scholarship and all.”
Jennifer said, “Wait. Is this the same girl who’s always telling me she’s got this, and I should quit worrying?”
“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