Page 47 of Kitty Season
Though I’m wallowing in self pity, I’m glad at least she is having fun. Things have changed a lot for her since Dad retired. Though she has her thriving career in law, and she’s relieved he spends more time at home, I think she misses the hockey family and hectic lifestyle the NHL brings with it. Estranged from her own around the time she married, she rarely sees the other ex-WAGS now, and with me gone, too, I think she’s lonely.
Maybe I should ask? Since I’m just swinging in a hammock and trying not to cry, now is as good a time as any to focus on someone else’s problems.
“Mom, are you lonely?” Way to be delicate, Quinn.
“What? Why in heavens would you ask me that? What a ridiculous thing to say. Lonely. I’m not lonely. Why in heavens would you think I’m lonely.”
Good lord we are so alike.
“Just a hunch. But now that you answered by saying lonely twenty-seven times, I’m sure I’m onto something.” I grip the cloth on either side of me, and pull myself into an upright position. “It’s just that you have a lot more time on your hands now. And as much as I appreciate it, you’ve really let loose with all … this.” I wave my hands in a giant circle to demonstrate ‘all this.’
“Look, I’ll admit the flamingos were a stretch, but I never had a twenty-first birthday party. I already had you by that point, and I wanted to make yours a night you’d never forget.”
“And it will be Mom. If any one comes.” The latter is mumbled under my breath, but Mom and her super human hearing catches it.”
“Of course they’re coming. You know what they say, nine p.m. is the new six. Besides, the traffic is horrendous this time of night.”
“I know. And in my heart of hearts I want to believe that Lotte, at least, wouldn’t abandon me like this. But when I think over the last few weeks I can pin point several moments in time where I could have been more supportive. Or might have pissed her off. The cafe, for instance. It’s a bit of a joke for me, but it’s her livelihood. And while she’s adulting and planning a future with Noah, I’m running around creating drama amongst Dad’s players.”
The rhododendron Mom’s repositioning slips from her fingers, and she scowls. “What drama?”
Shit.
“And if Noah and Lotte don’t come,” I continue, praying to God she’ll let that drop like she did the pot plant. “Brady won’t. The chosen few Dad permitted to come from the team were always a maybe at best, and the girls from my economics class are the same.”
And Troye?
Troye, I just don’t know.
I haven’t heard from him since breakfast. Messages sit on read. Calls remain unanswered.
I’m turning twenty-one. This is supposed to be fun.
A mishmash of Taylor Swift lyrics play in my mind, and in the pit of my gut, rejection blooms.
“Give them time, my darling.” Mom smiles. “You have to give him time.”
“I am, I promise, but?—”
In the distance I hear a car door slam. Then another. And another. And another. Noah was picking up Brady. Is Troye with them?
Mom flashes me her best I told you so smirk. “See. Never doubt your mother.”
In my blind rush to escape, I fall ass over tit out of the hammock, landing flat on my face at the feet of a rather perplexed pink bird. We study each other briefly, but its eyes creep me the fuck out, so I bounce to my feet as quick as I can and haul ass inside, pulling my sequined short shorts out of my butt as I go.
Wearing a smile as big as her heart, Lotte’s is the face I see when I enter the house. Naturally Noah isn’t far behind, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers and what looks like a bottle of Macallan. Sucking up to Dad.
“Quinny!” Lotte runs towards me and throws her arms around my waist. “I’m so freaking sorry. We got stuck behind an accident and left my phone at home. Noah’s was flat and?—”
“It doesn’t matter, Lotte.” I plant a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re here now. That’s all that counts.
“Is Troye,” she whispers, conscious of my folks.
“Not yet.”
“He will be here, Quinny.” She pulls away, her big blue eyes even wider than usual, as though they’re transferring her certainty into mine. “We saw him when we picked up Brady, and he was all dressed up and ready to go. Apparently he had to wrap something before he left. Your present maybe? ”
“Uhh, sure. My present. Right.”
