Page 109 of The Bronze Garza
“Oh,God, not ‘Mama’!” she says in horror. “Fine, fine, you can call me ‘Mom’. As long as you never,evercall me ‘Mama’ ever again.” She exaggerates a shiver. “Yuck.”
I cackle.I love her. “So where are we going, Ma—” She whips a glare at me—“Mom?”
“Wherever you want, baby. I’m all yours for the day. I head back to Paris tonight.”
In disbelief, I ask, “Wait, are you in L.A. just to spend time with me?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she admits on a sigh. “I had to come see you in the flesh to believe you’re okay or I probably would’ve gone mad.”
With a wide grin, I start jigging again, singing, “My mama looooves me! My mama looooves me! My mama looooves me!”
She grimaces. “I should have stayed in Paris.”
~
I feel theweight of Mom’s stare on me as I scan the menu. We spent the last couple of hours at the salon, because it felt like ages since I’d last been to one. My hair was overgrown, my cuticles ragged, and my nails hadn’t seen polish in months.
After getting manis and pedis, I got a new hairdo. Chopped from tailbone length to upper-back, and I added highlights and waves. It’s been years since I’ve felt this pretty and girly.
Now, we’re at a cute little vegan restaurant and Mom won’t stop staring.
When it becomes impossible to ignore, I drag my eyes from the menu book to her. “What, Mom?”
“You slept with him, didn’t you?”
I choke on air. “W-what?”
She waves her hand in the general direction of my face. “It’s all over you.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I drop the menu and take a drink of water. “What does that even mean?”
“You were always my innocent baby,” she says. “Even after...even after what happened, you were still you. My innocent little girl. But now...” She leans forward and narrows her eyes on me, examining me. “Yup, the caterpillar has definitely fled from its cocoon.”
“You say the weirdest things, Mom,” I mumble, gulping down another mouthful of water.”
“So are you saying you didn’t?”
I scratch my neck. Where the hell is that damn waiter?
After a prolonged moment, I say, “You can’t tell Dad.”
“How serious is it?”
“It isn’t,” I reply. “I’m the one who initiated things. I’ve always been attracted to him. But he’s not the relationship type. It’s just a thing that happened and might happen a couple more times before we part ways.”
“Well,” she starts on an understanding sigh, “he does look like a bronze god.”
“Right?” I agree with widened eyes. “He’s so...and so...and just so...ugh.”
Mom’s laughing at me. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”
“I donot.”
“Obviously, you’re an adult and I can’t tell you what to do,” she says, sobering. “But guard your heart, okay? Don’t just hand it over. Any man who wants it, let him first prove to you that he will protect it and handle it with care before you give it to him.”
“Okay. But first I’ll have to call and ask your permission, though.”
She’s nonplussed.
