inquiring looks on both their faces made me wish I hadn’t brought it up.
“How did she recognize you?” Mom asked.
I was weaving a tale now, and I didn’t have any idea where I was going with it. “Umm, that’s a good question,” I said. “I don’t know. She just came up to me and asked if I was Amy White. Then she introduced herself and we got to talking.”
My mom didn’t say anything, but I could tell she sensed the story was false. Her posture wasn’t relaxed enough to be buying it. And there was too much unevenness in my voice. She had a questioning look in her eyes that asked, “What really happened?”
I hated disappointing her, but I couldn’t provide an answer to that. I didn’t even know myself. But I had to say something about it all, to share this secret or I’d simply burst. It was becoming too much for me to hide.
“So,” Mom continued, “She invited you to her place to swim?”
“Yeah. She’s got a pool in her house. She lives on the North Shore. She was one of Justin’s best customer’s.”
My mom gave me a long, speculative glance. “Well I guess you were meant to make a new friend,” she said. It didn’t sound like she meant it.
She would be snide if I wasn’t going to be truthful. I felt terrible now that I’d brought it up.
“I think it’s nice you made a friend,” Tyler chimed in. “Sometimes the Universe is speaking to you.”
“What?” Mom barked.
“You know—The Universe,” Tyler repeated, this time with more emphasis. He looked at us both like we were clueless and should know these things.
“Honey, where did you get an idea like that?” I asked.
“Josephine.”
Of course—Josephine. The hippie, vegetarian art instructor. Now there was a stereotype if there ever was one.
“Tell me what she told you,” I said.
Tyler looked eager to discuss the topic. Anything Josephine-related held special interest for him.
He sat up straight and clasped his hands together, like a guest speaker at an event. “Well,” he began, “she said the Universe is always working its magic, always speaking to us, and that everything happens for a reason.”
His serious expression amused me. I spent a moment considering what he just said. It actually sounded acceptable, not too crazy.
I smiled at Tyler and put my hand on his shoulder. “That sounds good, honey. That sounds real good.”
Mom just walked out of the room, shaking her head, muttering inaudible words.
•••••
The next morning I woke up, showered, and dressed in one of my new designer outfits. I felt great, reborn almost.
When I got to the office and sat at my desk, Fatima came by. “Hey. Nice threads. Where’d you get them?”
Good question. And one I didn’t really want to answer. Fatima reached down the back of my blouse and pulled out the tag.
“Bergman Collection!” she shouted. “What’d you do, rob a bank?”
“No,” I said defensively. “It’s from Target.”
She gave me a surprised look. “I didn’t know they had a collection at Target.”
“I guess they do now,” I said, hoping she’d just let it go. I loved her—I did—but sometimes young people got on my nerves.
My day improved as we got busier. Everyone pretty much kept to themselves. We listened to the Spanish channel, the only station that seemed to come in lately.
When I clocked out at 5:00 p.m., the weather was wonderful. No more cold, rainy, gray skies. It was a fine spring day, so I rolled down the window and let the fresh air rush in.
I was happy. I hadn’t felt that emotion in a long time.
When I got home, I could tell Mom had noticed the shift in my mood, too. She didn’t comment on it, though. We shared that unspoken mother/daughter connection.
After dinner, Mom had plans with one of her friends, so Tyler and I decided to go for a walk outside. We both wore jackets, because it was still colder than it looked. Blue sky could be deceptive in Chicagoland.
“How was school today?” I
“How did she recognize you?” Mom asked.
I was weaving a tale now, and I didn’t have any idea where I was going with it. “Umm, that’s a good question,” I said. “I don’t know. She just came up to me and asked if I was Amy White. Then she introduced herself and we got to talking.”
My mom didn’t say anything, but I could tell she sensed the story was false. Her posture wasn’t relaxed enough to be buying it. And there was too much unevenness in my voice. She had a questioning look in her eyes that asked, “What really happened?”
I hated disappointing her, but I couldn’t provide an answer to that. I didn’t even know myself. But I had to say something about it all, to share this secret or I’d simply burst. It was becoming too much for me to hide.
“So,” Mom continued, “She invited you to her place to swim?”
“Yeah. She’s got a pool in her house. She lives on the North Shore. She was one of Justin’s best customer’s.”
My mom gave me a long, speculative glance. “Well I guess you were meant to make a new friend,” she said. It didn’t sound like she meant it.
She would be snide if I wasn’t going to be truthful. I felt terrible now that I’d brought it up.
“I think it’s nice you made a friend,” Tyler chimed in. “Sometimes the Universe is speaking to you.”
“What?” Mom barked.
“You know—The Universe,” Tyler repeated, this time with more emphasis. He looked at us both like we were clueless and should know these things.
“Honey, where did you get an idea like that?” I asked.
“Josephine.”
Of course—Josephine. The hippie, vegetarian art instructor. Now there was a stereotype if there ever was one.
“Tell me what she told you,” I said.
Tyler looked eager to discuss the topic. Anything Josephine-related held special interest for him.
He sat up straight and clasped his hands together, like a guest speaker at an event. “Well,” he began, “she said the Universe is always working its magic, always speaking to us, and that everything happens for a reason.”
His serious expression amused me. I spent a moment considering what he just said. It actually sounded acceptable, not too crazy.
I smiled at Tyler and put my hand on his shoulder. “That sounds good, honey. That sounds real good.”
Mom just walked out of the room, shaking her head, muttering inaudible words.
•••••
The next morning I woke up, showered, and dressed in one of my new designer outfits. I felt great, reborn almost.
When I got to the office and sat at my desk, Fatima came by. “Hey. Nice threads. Where’d you get them?”
Good question. And one I didn’t really want to answer. Fatima reached down the back of my blouse and pulled out the tag.
“Bergman Collection!” she shouted. “What’d you do, rob a bank?”
“No,” I said defensively. “It’s from Target.”
She gave me a surprised look. “I didn’t know they had a collection at Target.”
“I guess they do now,” I said, hoping she’d just let it go. I loved her—I did—but sometimes young people got on my nerves.
My day improved as we got busier. Everyone pretty much kept to themselves. We listened to the Spanish channel, the only station that seemed to come in lately.
When I clocked out at 5:00 p.m., the weather was wonderful. No more cold, rainy, gray skies. It was a fine spring day, so I rolled down the window and let the fresh air rush in.
I was happy. I hadn’t felt that emotion in a long time.
When I got home, I could tell Mom had noticed the shift in my mood, too. She didn’t comment on it, though. We shared that unspoken mother/daughter connection.
After dinner, Mom had plans with one of her friends, so Tyler and I decided to go for a walk outside. We both wore jackets, because it was still colder than it looked. Blue sky could be deceptive in Chicagoland.
“How was school today?” I
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