touched my hand! We might as well have held hands!
So was it a date or not? The presence of his family and the complete lack of an attempt to make out kind of makes it seem like he just wants to be friends. But if he talked to his parents about me, he must be interested, right? I don’t know what to do. People always say girls are hard to understand, but I think boys are infinitely more puzzling. But, I had a really good time, and it seemed like Keller did too. He said he’d call me later, but I’ve heard that guys can take days to get back to you after a date. Then again, we didn’t even go on a date. I probably won’t hear from him until, like, next year. He’ll only call to tell me he’s met a showgirl from Reno named Candy and he’s moved on.
I hope he never calls.
Later, 6:55pm—Pink Palm Motel
What am I saying? Am I deranged? I want him to call right now. I’m going to go plug my phone in so my battery doesn’t die.
Later, 7:10pm—Pink Palm Motel
He still hasn’t called. He’s never going to call. He hates me.
Later, 7:20pm—Pink Palm Motel
I must have self-control. I must wait for him to call me. He’s going to call. He has to.
Later, 1:30am—Pink Palm Motel
Mom came in and told me to turn off the Criminal Minds marathon and go to bed. Her flower shop is opening tomorrow, and I have to be ready to help out. Doesn’t Mom realize that Criminal Minds teaches valuable lessons about dealing with psychopaths that could be greatly useful to me in the future? If some crazy guy makes eye contact with me in a pharmacy and decides to follow me home and kill me, at least I’ll know how to handle the situation and play into his psychosis. Mom would feel guilty she made me go to bed then. Also, Keller might call any minute. It’s not that late.
February 26 th , 2:30am—Pink Palm Motel
I woke up in the middle of the night and went to get a drink of water. It was a challenge getting up in the first place. The springs in the mattress squeak, and Ivy is a light sleeper. I rolled out of bed with the stealth of James Bond. If James Bond weighed almost two hundred pounds that is.
When I went into the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, still wide-awake. She was looking at a pile of flower clippings as if they held the secrets of the universe.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I asked conversationally. It was the only thing I could think of to say. Telling her she looked deranged probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.
“I’m going to throw up,” Mom replied miserably.
I, brilliantly, said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. So, I filled my glass with water and took giant gulps in the awkward silence. You could hear the sound of the water gushing down my throat and the flickering of the fluorescent lights.
“What if I fail?” Mom croaked. “Your father’s life insurance money and your college education are all on the line. I don’t want to waste that money.”
“We’d figure it out,” I said. I’m not used to having my mom confide in me. She’s an adult; she’s supposed to talk to her girlfriends about this stuff over pedicures and cocktails. Then I realized there was no one for her to talk to in LA. We are in a new town, and, as far as I know, she hasn’t made any new friends yet.
“I’ve wanted a flower shop since I was a little girl,” she said abruptly.
“I didn’t know that.”
“When I was little, I used to pretend I ran a flower shop. Some girls played house; I picked bouquets from my neighbor’s garden and sold them from a stand at the corner,” she paused. “Then I grew up, and I had to go to college and major in something grown-up and useful. Before I knew it, I was a botanist working in a lab.”
“Well, I guess you’re long overdue for a flower shop.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
I love my mom. But these deep, adult
So was it a date or not? The presence of his family and the complete lack of an attempt to make out kind of makes it seem like he just wants to be friends. But if he talked to his parents about me, he must be interested, right? I don’t know what to do. People always say girls are hard to understand, but I think boys are infinitely more puzzling. But, I had a really good time, and it seemed like Keller did too. He said he’d call me later, but I’ve heard that guys can take days to get back to you after a date. Then again, we didn’t even go on a date. I probably won’t hear from him until, like, next year. He’ll only call to tell me he’s met a showgirl from Reno named Candy and he’s moved on.
I hope he never calls.
Later, 6:55pm—Pink Palm Motel
What am I saying? Am I deranged? I want him to call right now. I’m going to go plug my phone in so my battery doesn’t die.
Later, 7:10pm—Pink Palm Motel
He still hasn’t called. He’s never going to call. He hates me.
Later, 7:20pm—Pink Palm Motel
I must have self-control. I must wait for him to call me. He’s going to call. He has to.
Later, 1:30am—Pink Palm Motel
Mom came in and told me to turn off the Criminal Minds marathon and go to bed. Her flower shop is opening tomorrow, and I have to be ready to help out. Doesn’t Mom realize that Criminal Minds teaches valuable lessons about dealing with psychopaths that could be greatly useful to me in the future? If some crazy guy makes eye contact with me in a pharmacy and decides to follow me home and kill me, at least I’ll know how to handle the situation and play into his psychosis. Mom would feel guilty she made me go to bed then. Also, Keller might call any minute. It’s not that late.
February 26 th , 2:30am—Pink Palm Motel
I woke up in the middle of the night and went to get a drink of water. It was a challenge getting up in the first place. The springs in the mattress squeak, and Ivy is a light sleeper. I rolled out of bed with the stealth of James Bond. If James Bond weighed almost two hundred pounds that is.
When I went into the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, still wide-awake. She was looking at a pile of flower clippings as if they held the secrets of the universe.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I asked conversationally. It was the only thing I could think of to say. Telling her she looked deranged probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.
“I’m going to throw up,” Mom replied miserably.
I, brilliantly, said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. So, I filled my glass with water and took giant gulps in the awkward silence. You could hear the sound of the water gushing down my throat and the flickering of the fluorescent lights.
“What if I fail?” Mom croaked. “Your father’s life insurance money and your college education are all on the line. I don’t want to waste that money.”
“We’d figure it out,” I said. I’m not used to having my mom confide in me. She’s an adult; she’s supposed to talk to her girlfriends about this stuff over pedicures and cocktails. Then I realized there was no one for her to talk to in LA. We are in a new town, and, as far as I know, she hasn’t made any new friends yet.
“I’ve wanted a flower shop since I was a little girl,” she said abruptly.
“I didn’t know that.”
“When I was little, I used to pretend I ran a flower shop. Some girls played house; I picked bouquets from my neighbor’s garden and sold them from a stand at the corner,” she paused. “Then I grew up, and I had to go to college and major in something grown-up and useful. Before I knew it, I was a botanist working in a lab.”
“Well, I guess you’re long overdue for a flower shop.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
I love my mom. But these deep, adult
Similar Books
