I thought about Tara and all the shit she was going through with Michael, whom she wasn’t with anymore. Maybe I hadn’t really missed anything, not going out with anyone when I was in high school. Because I sure as hell didn’t like feeling like this.
I picked my head up. The first part of the mermaid tail was on the table in front of me; I’d been adding detail to the fin and liked how it was coming out, but I reached out and grabbed it and squeezed, feeling the damp clay give beneath my hands. I kept squeezing, squashing it back into a formless lump.
*****
I went home not long after that because I was just getting frustrated. That’s how it worked with art—sometimes you could channel all your frustrations and anger and anxiety and whatever other negative feelings you were experiencing into productive energy; other times it just crippled you. Nothing productive was happening for me today and I could overhear other people laughing and talking about their works-in-progress and everyone sounded like they were having such a good time that I decided I should just go home.
But I couldn’t even find any respite there. I went upstairs to my room and lay down on my bed. A nap might be good. No sooner had I shut my eyes, though, when there was a soft knock on the door. Before I could even respond, the door opened and my mother breezed in.
“Are you not feeling well?” she asked, perching at the edge of my bed.
“I’m not sick.”
“You don’t usually lie down during the day, though. Just catching up on a little beauty rest?”
“I guess that’s one way of putting it.”
“Is that really all that’s going on?” she asked. “You look so glum. Is everything all right? Are you having a hard time with your art project?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. I knew she was just trying to help, but I hated how trite she made it sound by saying “art project.”
She gave me a surprised look. “Well, you don’t sound fine. Is there something you want to talk about? Talking about it helps sometimes, you know.”
“It’s ...” I hesitated, part of me insisting that I not elaborate any further, but a larger part of me wanting to just talk to someone about it. My mother waited, looking at me expectantly. “I just like someone, is all. Or liked someone, and I don’t think he feels the same way. And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I don’t have much experience when it comes to dating, so I’m not used to feeling like this. I don’t think I actually like it much, to be honest.”
My mother patted my leg. “Oh, Chloe, I’m sorry to hear that you’re feeling like this. I remember all too well what it was like to be interested in someone and not have the feeling reciprocated. It’s not a great feeling; you’re right.”
It was the first time in quite a while that I could recall saying something about how I truly felt and having my mother just agree with me. I turned my head and looked at her. “Thank you for saying that.”
“But that’s just the way it goes. You’ve got to risk feeling bad because if you don’t, you’ll miss out on all the opportunities that you have to feel great. And sometimes things don’t always work out how we want them to. But that’s okay—it’s a learning experience.”
“I know. I’m not trying to be dramatic. I just thought ... I don’t know what I thought. I guess I realize that I have no clue about any of this.”
“That’s no reason to give up or get discouraged. Sweetheart, you’re young. You’re beautiful. But more importantly, you’re a good person and you’ve got a kind heart. There is no doubt in my mind that you will meet someone—the right person for you. You will. This guy that you’re talking about—how well did you really know him? He just doesn’t sound like your type. And you may not want to hear this, but I know you better than anyone else. I’m your mom, after all. And I know that the right person is out there for you. Like Parker. How is everything going with him?”
“Nothing is going on between us.
”
“Well, you went to that ... what was it? A bike thing?”
“A bike race.”
She smiled. “Right. The bike race. You went to that with him, and it sounded like you guys had a fun time. When are you going to see him again?”
“I really don’t know, Mom. He’s been bugging me to hang out this week and I told him that I was busy. Because I am.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure you could find some time to see him. Even to just grab a quick bite to eat?”
“Why are you so intent on me seeing him?”
“Because he’s a good kid! From a good family! Just like you. I can tell that you want to be dating, and I’m trying to encourage that. I want that for you. You don’t think that I want to see you unhappy like this, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well good, because I don’t! In fact, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s go do something fun. Just the two of us. We’ve hardly spent any time together and the summer is halfway over. It’s a gorgeous day; there’s no reason for you to spend it moping in your bedroom.”
She sounded so enthusiastic about it that I couldn’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe I did just need a change of scenery, something to get my mind off of Graham, and the fact that when it came to dating, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing.