Page 12 of Into the Mountains
“I know, I just…haven’t,” I shrug as I pick at the piece of bread in my hands. Dipping it into my soup, I savor the taste as I fish for what to say to get out of the conversation.
“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, I just haven’t done anything to try to date.” At the light behind Mom’s eyes, I have a feeling I have said the exact wrong thing. Or the exact right thing in her eyes.
“We could sign you up for a dating website!” She claps her hands together like she’s been dying to get those words out since I put my car in park.
“Annie, let the girl breathe,” Dad says as he gets up from the table. “You want some coffee, peanut?”
“I have a feeling I’m going to need a cup.”
“Oh, you’ll probably need three,” he jokes, smiling at Mom.
She ignores him with a wave of her hand and scoots closer to me on the bench. It’s not like her to be so pushy. She’s a woman that respects boundaries, encourages them even. She’s the one who taught me how to be more vocal about them even if it took me longer than it should have to figure out how to put those in place.
“You’re acting weird,” I finally say.
“Ah.” She nudges her shoulder against mine, a smile on her lips and a look behind her eyes that I can’t quite place. It’s the one Dad had in his moments before. They’re hiding something. Something bad they don’t want to tell me just yet. Immediately my mind jumps to the worst places, but I reel it back in before it catches anything. I don’t have all of the information. I need all of the information before I can come to any conclusions on whether or not to freak out. But I will respect their decision to not tell me yet. I’m also not going back to school until I know what exactly they’re keeping from me.
Before my mom has a chance to say anything else, I’ve made up my mind. Only because this seems important to her. “Fine,” I relent.
She whips her head back toward me and away from the cuticle she was pretending to pick at. “Really?”
“Sure, why not?”
Giddy, she pulls out her laptop she must have stashed on the other side of her and after waiting for it to turn on and load, she opens a website—
“Oh my god, did you just go to eHarmony? Did you have that bookmarked?”
I’d have thought my mom had no shame, but her cheeks redden slightly even though her body language tells me she stands behind her actions. “I wanted to be prepared in case you said yes.”
“You mean in case you bullied me into this. Isn’t eHarmony for old people?” I joke, which earns me a gentle nudge against my shoulder
“It’s for people of all ages. There’s lots of interesting characters here.”
“Interesting characters, she says.”
Mom just rolls her eyes and continues typing. “And, I didn’t bully. I just…pushed.”
“More like shoved,” I mutter as I stuff more soup soaked bread into my mouth, savoring the taste before Mom starts swiping in whatever direction it is that gets me to go on a date with some random person.
“Which isn’t like you, I might add. However,” I emphasize, “I won’t bug you about it.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to give in and tell me whatever the secret is I know her and Dad are keeping from me. She doesn’t. Her hand just comes to rest on my thigh and she gives me a soft squeeze before she gives her full attention to my new enemy.
I finish off my soup and bread as she busies herself with what I’m sure is my profile that she already set up earlier today or even yesterday. Dad comes back to the table, placing a mug of coffee in front of me, one I gave Mom for her birthday a few years ago. There’s a picture of a bright red beet on the side, eyes closed and the biggest smile you’d ever see on a beet with the words, “You can’t be beet!”stacked neatly next to it. I don’t know why, but I have always loved a good pun. Put a cute graphic next to it and it makes it ten times better and the perfect gift for just about anything. And it never fails to put a smile on a person’s face. Whether it’s out of genuine laughter because they think thepun is actually funny or it’s a wry smile because they think it’s stupid. I get a smile every single time.
“Alright, here.” Mom turns her laptop screen toward me. It’s open to a page with questions withCompatibility Quizin bold letters at the top.
“Seriously, Mom? I have to take a quiz for this?”
She answers in giggles as I skim through question after question about why I’m single, my ideal date, and made up scenarios. It’s way more detailed than I expected it to be. Once I’m finished, the new profile page Mom set up for me shows up. There’s a picture of myself smiling back at me. I’m in the mountains on our last family trip before I left for college, looking over my shoulder at my parents behind me. I remember thinking how big the world was, but also about how small mine had been. I remember being terrified to leave while excited to see a new place at the same time. I remember thinking how lucky I was to be raised by two exceptional people.
Dad comes around my other side, reading over my shoulder. “That’s my favorite picture of you. And one of my favorite trips.”
“Mine too.”
“The about section might need work, Annie.”
“I didn’t know what to put, Paul. I wasn’t sure if I should put more or less.”
“Well, you got the less part down,” he laughs.
