Page 222 of Swallow Your Sorries

“I couldn’t and there were no scholarships then.”

My brows crease. “So? How would you have gone?”

“I don’t think I would’ve,” she laments. “I think I would’ve joined my crappy public university ceramics course instead and teach workshops and summer camps for extra cash.”

“But you were devastated all the same?”

“I just needed to know that I was good enough to get in. I wasn’t good enough for my parents to keep me…I wasn’t good enough for any family to want to adopt me. I wasn’t good at maths and literature, or even the musical instruments I obsessed over but could never play in tune. I wasn’t good enough to even get picked as a roomie in an apartment so filled with draft, you’d swear the walls were nothing but cardboard. But I was good at ceramics. Really good, Elle. Even though I could never actually attend that art school, just the acceptance letter was good enough for me to know that I could’ve made it somewhere in the art world.

“Anyway, that same day, I saw an ad in the paper about the band performing at The Watering Hole. That’s where I met your father.”

“I know,” I say, hating the fondness in her tone.

“But did you know he was the bouncer?”

“I didn’t.”

“He wouldn’t let me in. I’d been turned down for bars before, but there was something about him, about the club, about that night, turning me down that I just couldn’t handle. I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“So what did you do?”

“I tried everything. Begging. Pleading. Bribing. Flashing.”

Flashing?!

“Then finally force. I dropped between Jarett’s legs, crawled through the door, and disappeared into the crowd to hear the band. There was a line behind me and he was the only guard on duty so he couldn’t leave the door just yet. By the time he managed to find me, the band had almost finished their set.”

“And then what happened?”

“He kicked me out. For the entire week. Because the band had booked gigs there all week. By the following week, on the night of the last show, he caved. He just let me in.”

So you wore him down.

Are we having the same conversation? Why does she sound almost dreamy as she reminisces?

Their relationship sounds exactly the same then as it was two years ago. Jarett never wanted Mum. He tolerated her. Barely.

“Speaking of the past, I’m so excited for our movie nights again.”

Is she?

“Will we watch them in the front room?”

“I already have the snacks ready.”

“So you’re home?”

“In a little bit.”

“Don’t forget to check the mail as soon as you get in.”

I could tell her about the notice. About the appointment time, but I won’t.

I need to see.

I need to see if she’ll do for me what she’d do for Jarett in a heartbeat unprompted.

“Mum?”

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