Don't Tell Mother (5 page)

Even though it felt like an eternity since I’d seen Grandma, she was a person who was hard to forget. I knew she hadn’t changed much since the last time I saw her. Still forward, still demanding, still strange.

She was a tiny woman, but her forceful presence more than made up for it. I looked down at her long, silver braids. Cascading from beneath her same weathered, green velvet cap, they flowed down her back, nearly reaching her bottom in two neat rows.

“Grandma,” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed in mock anger, but a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s a fine hello. I’d prefer a hug.” She held her arms open.

“I’m sorry.” I reached down and was grabbed in a fierce embrace. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither does your mother.” She pulled away and winked, her eyes dancing with the same mischievous gleam I’d seen in my two-year-old cousin right before he threw my brother’s iPod in the toilet.

“You’re kidding.” I couldn’t believe my luck. If there was anyone on the planet who was crazy enough to believe in my dreams, it was Grandma, and now she was standing on the front porch.

“I have two bags in the trunk and one in the backseat.” She nodded in the direction of her fire red classic convertible. “I’m going to stay for a while.” She stepped inside and sneered at her surroundings, like a queen who was tossed into a dung heap.

“I’ll get them in a minute, Grandma.” Shutting the door, I followed at her heels. “I have to see the look on Mother’s face when she sees you.”

Shaking her head, Grandma walked a few steps into Mother’s sitting room. Her eyes scanned the pale-pink custom window hangings and the Victorian-style sofa and chairs. Paintings of flowers adorned the walls and a fresh bouquet sat atop Mother’s antique coffee table. “Is this a house or an art museum? This won’t do. How am I going to get comfortable when I can’t put my feet up?”

Standing awkwardly behind her on the plush white carpet, I knew what Grandma must have been thinking. From Mother’s antique china to her glass egg collections, everything looked breakable.

And it was. I’d found out the hard way more than once. Even when Mike broke things, I somehow got the blame.

“Go fetch me some tea and find that mother of yours.”

Grandma tapped my foot with her long walking stick, which was so withered and gnarled, it looked like an angry, possessed tree limb.

Then Grandma did the unthinkable. I gasped in shock, while covering my mouth to hide a smile. She plopped on Mother’s brocade sofa, resting both feet on the spotless, polished coffee table as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I wasn’t even allowed to sit on the edge of the sofa.

“Mother? What are
you
doing here?”

I looked behind me to see my mother standing in the hallway, her skin as pale as a ghost. She was leaning against the doorframe, looking as if she would faint from shock.

I was shocked, too, but not by the sight of my mother. The odious tone in her voice when she spoke to Grandma sounded just like the way I addressed
my
mother. For the first time ever, I felt like Mother and I had something in common. For some reason, this wasn’t comforting, and not just because, unlike my mother, Grandma was cool. No, there was something more disturbing about our common thread. Watching as my mother’s eyes turned to stone and her lips twisted into an icy sneer, I swallowed hard. My mother was acting just like a hateful snot. Even worse, my mother was acting just like…me.

****

As impossible as this sounds, dinner with my family was even more tense than the night with Bob. Mother sat at the end of the table with Grandma to her right. I didn’t think Mother could fit any food through her tight scowl, but she managed to shove nibbles into her mouth while maintaining a glare at Grandma.

Grandma didn’t seem to be bothered, as she smiled serenely at me, winking while she filled her wine glass for a second time. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mother always treated Grandma like this? Like I treat my mother? Grandma had only been to visit twice in my life, and the last time had been so long ago, I guess I was too young to notice their tension.

Mother cleared her throat loudly. Something she only did when she wanted to command attention. Her sharp gaze focused on Grandma, as she tightly gripped an eating utensil in each hand. “So how long will you be staying, Mother?”

“Haven’t decided.” Grandma shrugged, not even looking up as she took another sip of wine and shoved in a mouthful of food.

Mother’s voice rose several octaves. “What’s there to decide?”

“You sound like you’re in a hurry to get rid of me, Margaret, and I only just got here.” Grandma gulped her wine, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lip.

Mother gripped her silverware so hard, I thought the metal would break. “Well, had I known you were coming, I…”

Setting down her wine glass, Grandma stared directly at Mother. “You would have taken the phone off the hook and barred the door.”

A tiny gasp, and my overly dramatic Mother dropped her fork, splaying her hand across her heart. “Mother.”

“Don’t ‘Mother’ me. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready. I have a lot of catching-up to do with my granddaughter.” Grandma leaned over, patting my hand before she shot Mother an accusing glare. “Since you won’t send her to me for summer breaks.”

Totally shocked, I jerked back. I could have been spending my summers with the coolest grandma ever? Why didn’t Mother tell me this? Trying to repress my anger, I felt the heat rise in my chest. From the endless nagging by my mother, to the relentless teasing by my brother, summers in my house were tortuous. Just think, all that could have been avoided if Mother had let me go.

Mother’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “AJ has volleyball camp every summer. She’s the
star
player.” Emphasizing the word ‘star’, mother raised her chin and smiled at me.

“Basketball, Mother.” I spat. Mother had a lot of nerve pretending to be proud. She didn’t even know what sport I played. Maybe because she never stayed to watch me practice.

“Yes, well, whatever.” She waved me off with a flick of her wrist. “She’s too busy to go see you.”

I clenched my jaw. “Basketball camp is only four weeks.” I wasn’t about to be dismissed that easily.

“And the rest of the time,” Mother cleared her throat before casting me her ‘shut-up-or-die’ glare, “I need her at home.”

Refusing to let Mother use me as a scapegoat, I threw down my silverware, not even trying to hide the anger in my voice. “To do what?”

“Allison Jenette,” she whispered between clenched teeth while somehow still managing a smile, “stay out of our conversation.”

Jaw dropping, I threw up my hands. “This conversation is about
me
.”

“You know what, you’re right.” Mother sighed, tossing her napkin in her plate. “Since this is all about
you
, you and Grandma can finish this conversation.” She rose, dramatically pressing both palms against her forehead. “I feel one of my headaches coming on. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.” Without another word, Mother swept out of the dining room.

If Mother was trying to make me feel bad, I guess her plan worked as I felt the temperature rising on my guilt-ometer. Why did everything have to be so hard between us? Why couldn’t we just get along? I didn’t want to end up hating my mother like she hated Grandma. With the way things were going, ten years from now, I’d be screening my calls. I’d be keeping my kids away from their evil Grandma.

Oh, God
.

I had the sudden realization my daughter would hate me, too. Were the women in my family doomed to hate one another? No. I couldn’t let this opposition continue. So far, my goal at earning Mother’s respect wasn’t going well.

I needed some way to clear the scoreboard between us. The only way I saw to end strife on the team was by working on the relationship between two fierce rivals, but getting Mother and Grandma in the same room together was difficult enough. How was I going to get them to play fair?

Chapter Six

Even though it meant the start of a tortuous school week, Monday couldn’t have come fast enough. Since I had been on phone and computer probation all weekend, I hadn’t talked to Bob in two days. Luckily, he sat behind me first period.

The bell hadn’t rung yet, but when I looked through the window, I spotted what was either a cactus growing out of a desk or my boyfriend’s hair. Dropping my shoulders, I slumped against the door. He beat me to the classroom. Was he there early to be with me or to breakup with me? I choked back a laugh, thinking how a split would be easier than telling my boyfriend he had to change.

My worrying was interrupted by two ditzy cheerleaders who nearly opened the door before realizing I was leaning against it. I stepped aside, and after a torrent of nauseating giggles, they bounced through the doorway, the ringlets in their pony tails springing back and forth like little slinkies.

Their laughter caused the few students in the classroom to turn. I tried to duck before catching sight of the gleam in Bob’s gray eyes. Waving me over, he broke into a wide grin.

Just one look at his smile and I knew he wasn’t going to break it off. Feeling the tension drain from my body, I was shocked to realize how important Bob was to me.

“Hey.” Dropping my book bag at my desk, I slid into my seat. “I’m sorry about Friday.”

“I’m cool.” He shrugged. “Rents don’t like me?”

I tried my best to smile reassuringly. “They just need to get to know you. Are you still coming to my game Thursday?”

“Your first game of the season. I’m there.”

Something in the way he looked at me was just so pure, so honest, so real. That’s what I liked about him. He didn’t play games.

I needed to be honest like Bob. Just come right out and ask him to rip off the tape and tone down the hair. I suspected that under the façade of green spikes, Bob was a guy who would easily get his feelings hurt. I had to use a more cautious approach. “How do you get two people to change for each other?”

Bob’s smile faded, his eyes narrowing. “Who are these people?”

His tone was not reassuring.

“My grandma and mother.” Well, it wasn’t a total lie. They needed to change, too.

Bob threw his head back, laughing. It felt good to hear his deep, throaty voice. He must have known I was asking the impossible.

“I don’t know your grandma, but I don’t think your mother will change.”

I shook my head. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I really want them to like each other.”

“Why?”

He turned his gray eyes upon mine, and I felt like melting on the spot. Outside of Sophie and Krysta, Bob was the only person I had in my life who actually showed interest in my needs.

“It’s complicated,” I sighed. “I just want our family to get along.”

“Good luck.” Bob rolled his eyes. “My mom hates my dad because he drinks. He hates her because she nags.”

A dull pain strummed at my chest. I never knew. Bob was always in a good mood, always smiling and just being real. How could a guy like this come from a bad home?

“So why don’t they change for each other?”

“Like you said.” Fumbling with a frayed corner of duct tape, Bob turned his eyes down. “It’s complicated.”

I couldn’t imagine dealing with the drinking every day. He must feel so alone. “Are there any other kids in your family?”

Breaking into a wide grin, Bob’s eyes lit up. “I have five baby sisters.”

Five! I’d never get to use the bathroom if I had five brothers. Sounded like Bob lived in hell, and it also explained why he didn’t wear nice clothes. “That’s a lot of kids. No wonder you’re so…” I bit my tongue. I had a reputation for saying whatever was on my mind, but my big mouth might have hurt my BF’s feelings.

Leaning his head forward, I couldn’t tell if Bob’s locked jaw was suppressing a smile or a frown.

“Finish what you were gonna say.”

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head.

Bob moved so close, I could inhale his scent. Peppermint. Poor or not, he had good breath.

He quirked a brow. “No wonder you’re so poor?”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m poor. At least you’re honest. That’s why I like you.”

A wave of guilt washed over me, making my heart clench. Bob liked me because I was honest, yet I couldn’t be truthful and ask him to change. Looking into his smiling eyes, I didn’t know if I could go through with it.

“So what’s it like with all those girls?” I asked, intending to shift the subject.

Bob’s attention turned toward his duct tape again, the corners of his lips turning up in a playful grin. “I love my sisters.”

He couldn’t be for real. No brother loves his sister. Brothers were supposed to put ice down their pants and hide cockroaches in their shoes. “You don’t torment them?”

Bob looked like I’d just missed a free throw. “No.”

“That’s strange.” What a new concept—a brother who was nice to his sister…sisters. This guy was getting more perfect each day. And I wanted to change him.

“Someone’s gotta look out for them.”

“I didn’t know you had it so hard.”

Bob just raised his hands, shrugging, as if to say “no biggie.”

But it was a big deal to me. His family life was a lot worse than mine, so why didn’t he complain?

“Anyway,” he smirked, “maybe you should tell your mom and grandma to back off.”

“Ha. Yeah, right. Maybe you should dye your hair back and take off the tape.” My hand flew to my mouth. I couldn’t believe I had said that. What an idiot.

Bob jerked back, the prickly spikes on his head clanging together almost sounded like they were hissing at me. “What?”

My loose tongue had gotten me in trouble again, and there was no taking it back. “Look, I’m sorry, but Mother went on and on all weekend about your hair.”

“This is who I am.” Bob threw his arms out, his slacked jaw and widened eyes made him look like he was being crucified.

“Hey.” I reached for his hand, only to feel him pull away. “I know that. I love your greenness. It’s not me, it’s Mother.”