Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

“Okay Mom, that’s great news,” I said weakly. “I’m so happy for you guys, it’s fantastic. See you in two weeks okay?”

But Brenda was so excited that she kept babbling away, chattering on and on about Daddy, his job, United Electric, and Mr. Jones until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ma,” I said sharply this time. “I gotta go, I gotta get to work.”

My mom paused for a second.

“But honey, I thought we just agreed you don’t have to work at Little Mo’s anymore, your dad makes more than enough now. Just tell them you’re quitting.”

I let out a huge sigh.

“Ma, I can’t leave just like that, without any notice. Besides, you know Carla, my manager, has been so nice to me, she’d never speak to me again if I left her hanging with an open dinner shift.”

My mom paused for a moment.

“Of course honey, I understand,” she said. “But this will be your last shift, right? No more Little Mo’s?”

And I grew angry all of a sudden.

“No Brenda, I’m not sure I’m so ready to quit,” I said slowly, grinding my words. “I like this job even if you think it’s below me, I like my co-workers, I like the environment and I do fine in school, thank you very much. So no, I’m not sure I’m going to quit even if Daddy’s rolling in it now.”

And I had to admit to myself, I didn’t want to quit because I knew that’s what Chris would want me to do. Suddenly stubborn, I didn’t care what the big man wanted, I wanted to do my own thing, spread my wings and fly a little.

Sensing my feeling of rage, my mom backed off instantly.

“Of course, honey,” she said gently. “Of course. We’ll talk about it more in two weeks when we come up. Take care, okay baby? Don’t work too hard and we’ll see you soon, okay? Bye, honey.”

And with a sigh, I hung up, relieved yet angry as well. Because even though I’d left the big man, it seemed that his actions, his thoughts, still permeated every corner of my life. My parents’ financial situation, my financial situation, heck, even my unpacking, were filled with memories of him, his actions, his choices, his words, his decisions. I was irritated and angry, but also suddenly sad. Because I desperately missed the big man, wanted to feel his arms around me, his big form holding me tight … but all I had were memories now.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lindy

I walked into the restaurant. School had started with more of a whimper than a bang, and the whole cycle had begun again, classes, clubs, events, everything in a swirling whir. Because although I was going through the motions, I was distracted. I was still thinking of Mr. Jones, dreaming of the big man and nothing had succeeded in pulling me away just yet, my thoughts and memories filled with him, his voice, his touch, those big hands holding me close.

But now it was parents’ weekend and I’d forced myself to be alert, giving myself a small pep talk while getting ready.

“Act happy,” I told myself sternly. “Brenda and Jim are gonna be over the moon with happiness, and you’ve got to act happy too, don’t spoil their celebratory mood.”

Because they were splurging. Instead of going to a local pizza joint or grabbing a burger at Little Mo’s, my parents had made a reservation at Bistecca Formaia, a fancy white-table place near campus. In our previous life, it would have been wildly out of our budget, but with my dad’s new salary my parents wanted to enjoy life a little, savor the finer things with the extra disposable income.

So I smoothed down my purple dress, taking a deep breath before pushing open the restaurant door. I was wearing an outfit that Chris had bought me, and in fact there was a matching amethyst bracelet but I could hardly parade that around without attracting my parents’ attention. So instead, I’d stuck with the dress and matching heels, swinging a purse over my shoulder before heading out the door.

And as I made my way towards the back, I caught sight of my parents. Oh right, there were Brenda and Jim, solid, upstanding middle-class citizens, my mom with her grey hair in a bun, my dad’s face a little flushed from a pre-dinner drink.

But suddenly my steps came to a halt. Because seated right there at the booth with them was Mr. Jones, his muscular form dominating, impossible to miss, seizing the eye. Oh god, what was he doing here? This was like a nightmare come to life, an episode of the Twilight Zone where ghosts from the past come to haunt you. I almost swung on my heel, ready to duck out, but my mom caught sight of me and it was too late.