Page 73 of Character Flaws
“That’s okay, mom. I understand. But if you decide to, it’s next weekend. We have four performances. One on Friday evening, one on Saturday and two on Sunday. You could bring a friend. I have two free tickets. Of course, you can stay here in my bedroom. I can stay over at -”
I’m about to say Patrick’s apartment, but then it dawns on me that maybe that’s no longer an option. I have no clue what to make of what happened between Theo and me yesterday.
Are we over for good? Are we even friends? Is he going to cut me from the play and use my understudy instead?
All these questions fill my sleep-deprived head as my mother continues to blather on about traffic in the city and the humidity and wind from the lake.
It’s times like these that I wonder if I was adopted, because my mother and I can’t be any more different. All my life I was my dad’s pride and joy, while I could never stack up to my mother’s standards.
I tried. I really did.
But we are like oil and water. She still believes in the old-fashioned family values, where women should be nurses, teachers or stay-at-home mothers. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with any of those professions. They make our world go round. And that’s why I became a teacher. To appease her and get her to stop yammering about my life.
But she never lets go.
There is plenty of accolades that I could bestow on Theo, but one of them is the lesson he taught me about myself and my ambitions. He made me come to grips with the fact that I never derived joy out of teaching.
In fact, it gave me an ulcer. It zapped me of all my energy. I think I cried myself to sleep most nights because I couldn’t cope with the hopelessness I felt knowing what some of my students go through in life and there was nothing I could do to reach them.
This summer has taught me that I don’t have to do that anymore. I’ve found a different outlet that makes me happy. Brings me out of my shell and allows me to live my life out loud.
And I owe that to Theo.
I haven’t mentioned this to him, but I also started jotting down some ideas and plots for a play. Or maybe even a screenplay.
I’ve even been thinking about going back to school to take some classes in screenwriting. I mean, I did minor in English and Creative Writing. Why can’t I make a go of this thing if that’s what I want?
My mother continues to give excuse after excuse when I hear my text notification. Placing her on speaker, I pull the phone away to see who it’s from, hoping a little too desperately that it’s from Theo.
It’s not. It’s from April asking me if I’m still on for brunch today. Instead of a traditional bachelorette party, she opted for something a little more upscale and a less likely chance of debauchery.
Her wedding is in two weeks and I’d already sent in my Plus One RSVP.
Ugh. Just what every single girl wants to do. Attend the wedding of a friend and having to either one, find a date, or two, sit at the singles table. Neither are great options. I had hoped I’d be going with Theo, but now that’s unclear.
“Hey mom, I’ve got to get going. I’m having brunch today with my friend April.”
Mom titters in hopefulness. “Oh, that sweet woman you work with who’s getting married soon? She’s, what? Thirty-five? See, you’re never too old to find love, honey.”
I think I’m going to vomit. My mother always finds a way to turn things back to my lack of marriage options.
Instead, I agree because it’s easier.
“I know, mom. You’re right. I’ve still got time, so maybe we should table that discussion from now on,” I groan, flicking the blanket off my legs and walking toward my bathroom. “I gotta go jump in the shower now. But I’ll send you an email with the tickets if you want to come up next weekend. Love you.”
“We’ll see, darling. But I can’t commit to anything. Love you, too, honey.”
It’s probably best she doesn’t come. Too many things for her to pick at; my lack of love life being at the top of her list.
