“Well, if you must know the truth, Riley just went through a ... how did Alison put it? A rather traumatic breakup, I think was what she used.”
“Oh, I see. So, I’m his rebound.”
“No, that’s not it at all. The breakup was almost six months ago, so it’s not recent, relatively speaking. He’s moved on. He’s ready to get back on the dating scene. And I figured since you’re not seeing anyone, it might work out really well!”
She seemed so earnest and good-intentioned that I could almost believe her. “But what sense would it make for you to set me up with someone who lives all the way across the country? What if things did work out between us, just for me to have to say goodbye to him when he went back to California?”
“Well ... let’s just say you two really did hit it off ... who’s to say you couldn’t move out to California? It’s a lovely state, you know. No more harsh winters to deal with. Remember how your father and I were talking about exploring your options? Living in California might be a great way for you to do that.”
“Are you serious, Mom?” I couldn’t quite believe what she was saying, though I should’ve known better. Of course this whole date was part of her bigger plan. “I didn’t realize how much you and Dad hated the idea of me being in art school. And what other options do you think I’ll be exploring out in California? Being someone’s housewife?”
Mom gave me a patient look. “Now, Chloe, you’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think? No one’s saying that you and Riley are going to get married, nor is anyone suggesting that you become a housewife! Riley graduated from Stanford, though, did you know that? Just this year, in fact. Alison said he’s thinking about grad school but might take an off-year—but I’ll let him tell you all that. I’ll just text Alison back and let her know that Thursday is good for you too, all right?”
I sighed. There was no point in arguing with my mother when she got like this. I could refuse this date, but then she’d just find someone else to try to set me up with. If I got it over with now, then maybe she’d leave me alone.
“Fine,” I said. “Go ahead and set it up.”
My mother grinned. “I think this is going to work out splendidly, I just have a feeling!”
I forced a smile and reached up to brush a few loose strands of hair away from my face. “Oh, boy, not another one of your feel—”
“What is that?”
My mother stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. “What?” I said.
“That!” She pointed, and I realized that the slightly loose-fitting, three-quarter sleeve had slid up when I raised my arm to brush the hair back from my face, putting my tattoo on full display. I knew that by choosing to have it there, my parents would eventually see it, but I hadn’t expected it to happen quite yet.
“Oh ... um.” I yanked the sleeve down.
“Please tell me that’s temporary. One of those henna things? What is it called?”
My mother gave me a hopeful smile, which wavered and then disappeared when I didn’t say anything.
“Chloe,” she breathed, looking at me as though I’d just informed her I liked to drown kittens in potato sacks in my spare time. “Has your father seen this? No, I know he hasn’t because he would’ve told me. Chloe, what on Earth were you thinking?” Her voice was starting to get shrill.
“I just wanted to,” I mumbled, feeling like I was five again. I hated that I felt like this whenever my parents got upset with me, even when I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong. And there was nothing wrong with the tattoo I got—the way she was looking at me it was as though I’d gotten something inked on my face. “It’s nice. And it’s small. I really didn’t think that you guys would mind.”
My mother opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and just shook her head. “I’m going to have to talk to your father about this,” she said after a minute. “And we both know he’s not going to be happy. How are you going to get a respectable job with a tattoo like that?”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”
She sighed. “Well, whatever you do, make sure you wear something to cover it up for your date with Riley.”
Chapter Eleven
Graham
On Sunday, Todd and I were up at the ass crack of dawn, driving up to New Hampshire for a race. Todd was drinking distilled water and eating energy gel packets while I nursed a hot coffee and thought about eating a second donut.
“Aren’t you supposed to eat those when you actually need the energy?” I asked.
“I always need energy,” he said. “And by the way, I’m going to shoot myself if you come in ahead of me today. I mean, really. What did you have for dinner last night? A bacon cheeseburger? I had whole grain pasta and baked whitefish.”
“Close,” I said. “I hung out with Chloe and her friend Tara and we got some food at Fish Fry.”
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“Wait, you hung out with both those girls who came in for the tattoos? And you didn’t invite me along?”