Page 1 of House of Payne
Chapter One
London
“Why didn’t you answer the phone the first time I called?” My mom’s voice is frantic on the other end.
I smile.Some things never change.“I know, Mom, but I’m working. I can’t check my phone every five seconds.”
She doesn’t let it go. “Working?” She snorts. “Is that what we’re going with?”
“Fine, my phone was on vibrate,” I admit.
“How many times have I told you how dangerous it is to have your phone on vibrate? What if something happens and I can’t reach you? I need to be able to talk to you at all times, London.”
My mom has always had a flair for melodrama.
The fact that my life has taken a backseat to the diner doesn’t sit well with her, and that I did it for my father makes it even worse.
My mom won’t say it explicitly, but I know she’s disappointed in me and my wasted potential.
I sigh. She’s always been a bit kooky and far more overprotective than she needs to be, but I don’t love her any less.
“In case you’ve forgotten, Mom, I am an adult,” I stress, wiping down the front counters in case someone came in to order something.
Shooting glances at the door every so often doesn’t change anything,no matter how much I wish it would.
For the umpteenth time, I find myself wondering if my mom is right.
What if I made a mistake by sticking around and putting my life on hold?
“I don’t care when the law calls you an adult, you’ll always be my baby, and don’t forget it.”
“You won’t let me,” I chuckle.
“I never will.” She clears her throat. “So, how is your father’s diner?”
She’s only asking out of obligation and not any real interest.
Even after all these years, the diner is still a place of contention between us.
“It’s not just his diner, it’sours. He says it’ll be mine when he retires.”
There’s a brief pause, which is unheard of for my mom. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I love you, London, and your father had a wonderful dream, but you can do so much more than a failing diner.”
I can tell she’s not being mean, nor is she saying anything that’s not true. It hurts to have it thrown in my face, but I know my mom is only looking out for me.
So is my dad.
They have two very different ideas of what my life should look like.
“It’s been doing better,” I tell her although it’s a partial lie. A few new faces have come in, and we have our loyal regulars, of course, but it’s nothing like it was in its prime.
I remember being a kid, hunched over my father’s rickety old desk in the back office while the conversation flowed around me, punctuated by the occasional laugh. Sometimes, when things feel particularly depressing, and the reality of how far it has fallen hits me, I recall how it felt to sneak out of the back office as a kid, the wonder and joy I felt when I saw how many people came in and out, and the pleased flush on my parents’ faces as they stood at the counter.
It feels like someone else’s memories. A lifetime ago now.
The diner was one of the reasons my parents ultimately called it quits. It was Dad’s lifelong dream, and he didn’t want to let it go even when revenue plummeted. My mother had encouraged him to sell it so they could move on while they could. She thought they could sell the house, too, and move to Fiji, but vacation and a life of relaxation were never something he wanted.
Eventually, my mother fell out of love with him. She says they just drifted apart, but the truth was easy to see. She stopped doing the little things to show her love, like making him breakfast or kissing him the second he came home from work. Slowly, the “I love yous stopped being said, and then one day, she said she was leaving him.”
