Page 14 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“I guess.” I stop and take a moment to look around the town. Sweet, old Maple Falls. It’s one of those towns that feels like the smallest town in the world when you’re growing up, but times like this, when I come back and see it in all of its autumnal beauty, I appreciate what I had.
“There it is,” Mom says, nudging me in the ribs. “It’s nice to see that smile of yours again—not that you’ve been doing much of that since you came back to town. I guess if I had chipped my tooth, I’d be hiding it, too.”
And there it is. That one was a subtle dig, but she can get in some zingers once she’s on a roll. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear after being subjected to needles in my gums and a lecture about my flossing habits.”
“I’m just saying, a smile is a powerful thing.” She pats my arm, unbothered, as she points to her mouth. “Look at me. I smile all the time.”
I’m gearing up for a good retort when the crisp fall air hits me, carrying the unmistakable scent of pumpkin spice and warm apple cider. I turn back to the scenery and let myself get lost in its magic.
I can hear Asher’s words as if he were standing beside me now: Maple Falls in autumnisstunning. It’s like stepping onto a movie set—all golden leaves, perfectly decorated storefronts, and cheery townsfolk bustling about as if life’s biggest problem is running out of cinnamon sticks. Brightly painted signs for the upcoming Maple Fest hang in every window, scarecrows are placed in precarious spots near entryways or in shop windows, some tied to streetlights, in a sign that the annual scarecrow-making competition has already begun.
We continue down Main Street, Mom’s scarf trailing dramatically in the wind. Around us, the town hums with activity. Kids dart between shopfronts, clutching caramel apples; an elderly couple strolls hand in hand, their matching sweaters embroideredwith autumn leaves; and somewhere in the distance, a street musician plays a cheerful tune on a violin. It’s all so disgustingly charming that I’d laugh if it weren’t my actual life.
“So, tell me about your article,” she says. “Are you interviewing a lot of players for this one?”
“You wish,” I tease. Look, she’s my mom but, as the saying goes, she ain’t dead. I know this woman loves her Ice Breakers. “I’ve been given a list that my editor wants me to stick to. The captain, of course?—”
“Of course,” she chimes in, as if we’re on a talk show and she’s interviewing me. “Jamie Hayes.”
“That’s him. And there’s a player from France, and a last-minute addition from Canada, too.” I half-laugh, shaking my head at the memory from yesterday. “In fact, I met one of the players yesterday. We rode together from the airport to town. Asher Tremblay is his name.”
My mother stops in her tracks, her eyes wide as she clutches her heart. Worried, I stop with her and grab an arm. “Ma? You good?”
“You rode in a small shared space with Asher Tremblay?” She pretends to wave a fan in front of her face, taking on the role of a Southern woman in front of my eyes. Someone call the Academy, she’s getting an award…did I mention that Mary-Ellen has also been the star of at least eight productions that the Maple Falls Players have put on over the last ten years?
“Here we go,” I say as I take a step back. “Of course you know who he is. When’s his birthday?”
“March seventh.”
“Okay, good one, Mom.” Now to test her. “When’s mine?”
“You’re kidding,” she deadpans. “I brought you into this world. No hesitation here to take you out.”
“I feel like you’re distracting me from the fact that you’re trying to remember my birthday.” I wave a hand in front of me. “Come on. When?”
She sighs. “November fifteenth. You were born on a Friday ateight in the morning. I was told I was having a boy, then you popped out and surprised everybody. Do you have any other questions you want to drill me with?”
I swallow hard, wishing I’d left the mental baggage I’d also brought with me back at her place. Part of the reason I wanted this assignment was so I could come home and actually confront my mother. Okay, confront is an aggressive term. I guess, I want a chance to make things right. Growing up, I loved that I had a mom who was so involved that she was always around. At every PTA meeting, she was heading up the bake sale. If the 4-H club had an outing, she was the leader. If we went on a school field trip, she was a parent on the bus with us kids. The list goes on. By all means, and to any outsider looking in, she was a present parent who was super involved in her child’s life. However, if you peeked below the surface, like most things, you’d find that just underneath the crust was—is?—something very different.
“No, I’m not drilling you,” I acquiesce, keeping my eyes trained on the stores around us. I make a promise to myself to back off a little bit. I may be arriving into town hot and wanting to sort out my personal stuff, but I don’t want to upset my mother in the process. I’m just a girl who wants to create an adult relationship with her mom, is that so wrong?
“Good.” She pauses for a beat before continuing. “You know, I’m a closet fan of Tremblay’s. He’s had a fantastic start to what is going to be a promising career.”
This time, I stop the chuckle before it comes out. I’m not helping things if I throw more wood on the fire. And anyway, she’s a walking encyclopedia when it comes to this thing. Once a hockey fan, always a hockey fan, I guess.
“He has. I was doing my prep on him last night, and the Ice Breakers are lucky to have him,” I agree as a picture of Asher grinning beside me in the car yesterday flashes on the movie screen in my mind.
“He’s very handsome,” she continues. “Comes from a maplefarm in Canada, you know. He started playing hockey after he taught himself to skate on their farm’s pond. And, his mother used to be a prima ballerina!” She points a finger in the air, punctuating this last tidbit as if I should know it.
“Oh?”
She stops walking and pulls me to face her. “Yes, didn’t you see that in your research?”
“What are you, my editor?” I shake my head. “And no, I didn’t come across that tidbit about his mom.”
“Well. If I was a professional player, I’d want anyone interviewing me to be fully prepared and on point when I met them.” She shakes her head, clearly exasperated with me all of a sudden. I hate to tell her that my version of on point during my introduction to Asher was chipping my tooth in front of him. “So, are you going to come to tonight’s emergency meeting with your old ma?”
I can’t stop the snort that erupts from me. It’s not just a sound, oh no. It’s a full-body betrayal, like some rogue demon has taken up residence inside me and decidednowis the perfect time to make its grand debut. Not a scary, fire-and-brimstone demon, mind you—more like that distant cousin who shows up uninvited to parties, tells embarrassing stories, and leaves everyone weirdly charmed despite themselves.
