“For the love of God, please don’t get arrested.” My mom took the top I had shoved into the side of the suitcase and folded it neatly before placing it in a much better position than I had.
“How would I end up arrested?” I asked as I carelessly rolled up a t-shirt and tossed it into one corner of my luggage before it was rescued by my mom. It wasn’t that I particularly enjoyed wrinkled clothes, but I traveled enough to know that my clothes would get wrinkled whether I took the time to painstakingly fold them or not. I grabbed a pair of jeans and placed them into my mom’s waiting hands before I could shove them in an odd nook in my carry-on.
My mom sighed, taking a second pair of jeans and folding them neat enough to give them temporary creases. “Who knows with you, Tori. It wouldn’t be the craziest stunt you’ve pulled, I suppose.” She raised one eyebrow my way, pinning me with her knowing mom eyes. “Like when you went streaking down Main Street.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “It was eleven at night, practically no one was out.”
“Uh-huh. If that was true, then how did I find out about it?”
She had me there. “Touché.”
“Or when you acted out Meg Ryan’s When Harry Met Sally deli scene on the subway, while we were on vacation in New York City.”
I raised a finger. “In my defense, James dared me to do that.” My brother delighted in taking many opportunities to embarrass me. And since I was well-known for never turning down a dare, that had topped one of my more public embarrassments.
“But did you have to do it while your father was there to witness?”
She had a point. “Well, I’ve grown up a bit since then.”
“Mm-hm.” She ran her hand over my folded t-shirt. “Don’t think I didn’t hear about the time you jumped off a waterfall in Washington a few summers ago.”
“I can’t help it when people dare me, Mom.” I popped a kiss on the top of her salt and pepper hair and shoved a handful of earrings into a jewelry organizer. “And how do you hear about these things, anyway?”
“I have my ways,” she said and for the briefest of moments, her knowing smile fell, her eyes taking on a faraway look. I swallowed, guessing just what she was thinking about. The event that had nearly split my parents’ shaky marriage was still a scab on her heart—and, because I’d been in the middle, it had left mine a bit scarred too.
“I’ll be good, Mom. I promise.” In an effort to get her mind off of the thing that we both didn’t like talking about, I held up my crossed fingers in front of me as I said it. It was our joke—that if she couldn’t see my fingers when I promised her, she didn’t know if I was just appeasing her or not.
“Okay.” She blew out a breath, giving me a preoccupied smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she busied herself with my suitcase. “So, you’re not going to get arrested.”
“I mean, I’m not a fortune teller. Things happen.” I tucked away my grin before she could see it and bent over, shaking my loose blond hair into a ponytail.
“Don’t get arrested,” she repeated and held up a finger. “Don’t do any sketchy drugs.”
“No sketchy drugs. Just the mainstream ones. Okay.”
She sighed but continued. “Don’t go streaking down the strip.” I couldn’t argue that one, as evidenced by Main Street shenanigans of years ago. “And, above all, please don’t get married.”
“Married?” I straightened and tossed a few makeup bottles, pencils and brushes into a cosmetics bag. “Who am I going to marry in Vegas?”
“I don’t know. One of your girlfriends?”
“They’re girl friends, Mom.” She took the makeup bag from me and reorganized my suitcase to squeeze it in. “Not girlfriends. And it’s just a quick trip.”
I looked around my bedroom. Well, it was my bedroom for the time-being, but the contents of these four walls felt no more like home than the confines of a hotel room.
A few months ago, I temporarily moved back to my parents’ retirement home while I sorted out what I was going to do with my life. My roommate and best friend, Hollis, was getting married and had moved in with her fiancé. As someone who loved being surrounded by people, I didn’t relish the idea of having a two-bedroom apartment to myself nor the prospect of having some