began feeling the need to wait for my mother’s attention. I’m sure if Sigmund Freud was alive he’d be taking lots of notes. There’s probably no one else who could sort out how twisted our relationship has become.
When she doesn’t respond I clutch the back of the chair. “Good morning.”
“Only for some it seems.” Mom glances at me. “I’m just catching up on the news. What a nightmare!”
My smile is tight as I lean in to kiss her cheek. She doesn’t know the half of it. As I straighten up I catch a whiff of Chanel No. 5. At least some things don’t change. That had been a luxury she always found money for. Becca and I would sit at her feet while she applied it. She would place the precious bottle back on the vanity and tell us, “A girl may not have money but she can always have standards.”
A waiter appears, startling me out of the past and into the present.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” I say, nodding to her champagne flute.
She sets her phone down to shoot me a disapproving look. “Emma.”
“An orange juice.” I feign innocence that neither of us buys. If it comes as a cocktail Vivian Von Essen takes it that way. After last night I could've used a drink, but now I’ll settle for shocking my mom into giving me attention. I think Freud had a term for that: desperation. “I didn’t expect you to be in town this weekend.”
Ice broken. Now to sit and endure the chill for an hour. I unfolded my napkin, which makes a shitty blanket, and wait for her to respond. That’s how it is between us now: branches and cheek kisses and awkward small talk.
“You’re starting your senior year. I thought that deserved a celebration.”
At a place for lifestyle retirees. Gee thanks, Mom.
“There is something we could do if you’re interested.” Who knew an olive branch could feel so heavy? Extending it is exhausting, but thankfully she grabs for the metaphorical offering.
“Anything. This day is all about you, honey.” She presses her lips together, no doubt trying to hold in her excitement.
Here goes nothing. “Could go by Becca's grave this afternoon? The headstone is up—”
“Let's not discuss that right now.” She doesn’t just cut me off, she dismisses the idea entirely. The interest she’d shown a few moments ago evaporates instantly replaces by a distant, frosty demeanor.
That's all my sister—her daughter—is to her now: a subject that can be dismissed with one wave of a manicured hand. To my knowledge, Mom hasn't visited Becca's grave since we buried her. Then again given how much Valium she was on at the funeral, she hadn’t really been present and accounted for then either. It hurts that I can’t share my grief with her. Dad drinks, Mom ignores, and I pretend that I’m not walking around with a gaping hole where my family used to be. No one is going to be asking us to write a book on coping with loss anytime soon.
Meanwhile, she doesn’t miss a beat. With a snap of the fingers a new morning-appropriate cocktail is on the way. “I thought we could discuss your summer plans.”
“You know my summer plans already.” I force the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m going to help dad at the shop and visit you in a few weeks.”
“It's not necessary for you to waste your entire summer babysitting your father.”
Actually it is if I want to have a house to return to this fall.
“I don't mind. I like an honest day's work.” I can’t resist the dig. Since she remarried my mother’s occupation can best be described as economic developer. Show her a store and she’ll help it stay in business.
But if she catches my none-too-subtle jab, she ignores it. “Filtering through other people's junk is hardly an honest day's work. You need to be focused on yourself right now, Em. With senior year coming up you should be thinking about extracurriculars, not haggling with your father's customers. Have you thought about what colleges you'll be applying to this fall?”
“Maybe Las Vegas Community College. I don't have a lot of options.” I shrug, hoping that we can just pretend this subject away. Obviously Hans has been talking to her again. Until he came into the picture a few years ago, my mother's idea of a major was finding a husband. It can’t be a coincidence that she’s making other plans now. Although if I had to guess