Page 87 of The Disasters of Dating
I smile at her. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve missed our together time lately. Even if it is only dishes.”
She looks a little sad. “Me too, Soda.”
We step into my favorite Vietnamese restaurant and get in line to order. We’re quiet as we wait. It’s kind of weird because we’ve never had a hard time talking to each other. Especially chit-chating.
“How is Paisleigh doing?” she finally asks. “I haven’t seen her much lately.”
I smile. “She’s doing good. She actually applied to be on that show,Beyond Limits.”
My mom’s eyes widen. “The one where you go to some remote island and all you can take are, like, two pairs of underwear for a whole month?”
I tilt my head and look at her with a creased brow. “Two pairs of underwear? Really, Mom? That’s what you take away from the show? Not the gameplay or the social game? But the underwear?” I shake my head slightly. “I’m not even sure that’s a real thing or if it’s just a rumor.”
My mom flicks up her brows. “It’s not healthy to wear the same underwear for that long.”
“I’m pretty sure they wash them, Mom.”
She shrugs. “One can only hope.”
“I’ll make sure Pais is aware of the underwear concerns if she’s accepted—which she doesn’t think she has a chance of. I mean, it’s pretty unlikely. They get thousands and thousands of applications each season.”
My mom smiles. “But Paisleigh is such a cutie. They’re sure to see she will make good TV.”
“I think so, too! But Paisleigh is convinced it won’t happen. I think that may be why she applied. It’s so out of her comfort zone. But I think she figured it’s such a long shot that she may as well. Then she can say she applied but wasn’t selected. It makes her seem outgoing and adventurous without her actually having to be outgoing and adventurous.”
“I suppose she found the right loophole, then.”
We step up to the counter, and I order my garlic ribeye Banh mi sans the jalapeños and cilantro. My mom orders the honey-glazed pork noodle salad and pays for it all. I know I should have offered, but I’m still a poor student. I’ll pay for all the lunches once I have my chain of newsstands.
We find a table and sit down. I look around the restaurant, not sure how to start our conversation. Finally, as the silence is nearly deafening, I look at her and smile. “Mom, are you feeling okay lately? Do you feel like you’re remembering things okay?”
My mom frowns at me. “Yeah, I feel fine, and I remember things well enough. I’m not thirty-five anymore. But I’m not losing my memory, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
I nod, but I’m not one hundred percent convinced. “Are you sure?” I press.
“What is this all about, Poppy?” And then her eyes widen slightly, and she nods a few times. “Is this about the Margo Conway thing?”
I shrug. “Among other things.” I blink a few times. “Mrs. Conway acted like she had no idea what I was talking about with the food drive. In fact, she asked me to have you call her because she’d like to help with it.” I take a breath. “And she has no recollection of seeing you.”
My mom tilts her head to the side like she does when she’s trying to reason with me because I’m being unreasonable. Which I’m not.
She reaches across the table and pats my hand. “I’ve been trying to figure out why you thought Margo Conway was helping with the food drive after you mentioned seeing her the other day. And I think I must not have told the story very well. I obviously confused you on the facts.”
I narrow my eyes slightly. Is this going to be another book club thing where she insists she didn’t say something that she actually did?
“I must have made it sound like me seeing Margo Conway in the store—which we didn’t actually speak because she was talking on her phone and I didn’t want to interrupt her—and me helping with the food drive were the same story, which they aren’t.” She looks at me like she’s cleared up all the confusion. She hasn’t.
“Okay, whatever,” I brush the stupid Margo Conway debate to the side. “But how many book clubs do you belong to?”
She frowns. “One, why?”
I spear her with a look. I’ve read that description before and didn’t understand it until now. If my gaze were a dagger, my mom would be pinned to the wall. Only her clothes, mind you, I am not visually harming my mother. “Then why did you tell me twice this month thatyou were going to book club? Were you tryingto get out of going bowling? We haven’t been since, like, March.”
She stares at me. “What do you mean I told you twice this month I had book club?”
I pull out my phone and scroll through our text. “See, you did it here on the 3rd and then again last week.” I cross my arms over my chest in a very challenging and closed-off way. My aura is likely a murky gray with the accusations coming off me in waves.
My mom grabs my phone and looks at the texts. “Oh, that’s because I was thinking it was later in the month than it was. I was off a week. It’s been super crazy at the office.” She gives me an exasperated look. “I went to the first of two house closings thinking they were that day when they were last week instead.” She frowns. “Maybe I do have something wrong with me.”
