wedding. We just want something small, just family only.”
“I’d love to help you,” I say. Oddly, I find that I really mean it. Our new life is a lot better than our old one, and Mom really loves Landon. I want this to work out for them. It’ll be a much better home life for my sisters than I had growing up.
When we’re finally done shopping, we follow the sales person up to the front desk where he tallies up all of Mom’s impulse buys. Since it’s all furniture, we arrange for it to be delivered next week and that means we get to walk out of the store empty-handed, which is weird for how much money she just spent.
It didn’t escape my notice that my mother, who has no credit cards anymore because her credit sucks, is now sporting a shiny new platinum Visa card with her name on it.
“Landon gave it to me,” she says with a wink when she catches me eyeing it.
“So,” Mom says, clapping a hand on my back as we step out into the parking lot. She slides her sunglasses on her head and turns to me. “This is the start of our new life, so I think we really need to celebrate it big.”
“Isn’t that what we just did?” I say, hooking my thumb over my shoulder to point at the furniture store.
Mom rolls her eyes. “No, silly. I’m talking about me and you. You’re my oldest, and you’ve been with me through all the hell we’ve been through. Emma and Starla really have no idea, do they?”
My chest aches with the memories of my crappy childhood. Mom tried her hardest, but we never made it a whole week without worrying about money, bills, or food. “I’m glad their life will be better,” I say, letting my head lean against Mom’s shoulder for a second. “I’m really happy you met Landon.”
“Me too, honey. And he truly loves me. He didn’t even tell me about his wealth until we’d been dating a while, so he knew I wasn’t just some gold-digger.” Mom’s eyes get big and she gazes off in the distance. “I fell in love with him for who he is, and he did the same to me.”
“I’m really happy for you, Mom.”
She grins and reaches for the keys to her new car. “I want to do something fun and drastic. I know! Let’s get our nails done. Hair, too.”
I hate myself for getting excited at the idea of something we could never afford to do a few days ago. But . . . “That sounds fun,” I say, unable to hide my grin.
At a nearby salon, Mom and I sit in these fancy massage chairs with tubs of hot water at the bottom. Professionally skilled nail techs scrub the callouses off our feet and trim our toenails and paint them and everything. It is amazing.
I knew people got pedicures, but I just figured that meant getting their nails painted. I had no idea how much went into it. It’s so relaxing I could die.
Mom doesn’t stop grinning in my direction, and when both our feet and hands look like a movie star’s, she turns to me, giving me a coy look.
“I think we should do something drastic to our hair.”
“Like what?” I say. My hair is brown, a little longer than my shoulders, and very very plain. I’ve never had a real haircut before—at least not one in a salon. Mom has a pair of hair shears and she’s the one who gives us basic hair trimming when we need it.
We pay for our manicures and pedicures and then head over to the hair salon next door. “Hmm,” she says, gazing at the photos of hair models all over the wall. “I’m thinking I should get some highlights, and maybe a nice trim to get rid of my split ends.”
“Okay, I’ll do that too,” I say, suddenly eager to sit in one of the chairs and have someone else with actual talent do my hair for a change. As much as I’m trying not to be materialistic, I’m really having fun.
But maybe that’s okay. This is our “new life” as Mom keeps saying. Maybe I’m allowed to have fun.
Our stylist’s name is Bae, and she’s tall and beautiful and has an amazing Jamaican accent. She loves mom’s highlight idea, but when
“I’d love to help you,” I say. Oddly, I find that I really mean it. Our new life is a lot better than our old one, and Mom really loves Landon. I want this to work out for them. It’ll be a much better home life for my sisters than I had growing up.
When we’re finally done shopping, we follow the sales person up to the front desk where he tallies up all of Mom’s impulse buys. Since it’s all furniture, we arrange for it to be delivered next week and that means we get to walk out of the store empty-handed, which is weird for how much money she just spent.
It didn’t escape my notice that my mother, who has no credit cards anymore because her credit sucks, is now sporting a shiny new platinum Visa card with her name on it.
“Landon gave it to me,” she says with a wink when she catches me eyeing it.
“So,” Mom says, clapping a hand on my back as we step out into the parking lot. She slides her sunglasses on her head and turns to me. “This is the start of our new life, so I think we really need to celebrate it big.”
“Isn’t that what we just did?” I say, hooking my thumb over my shoulder to point at the furniture store.
Mom rolls her eyes. “No, silly. I’m talking about me and you. You’re my oldest, and you’ve been with me through all the hell we’ve been through. Emma and Starla really have no idea, do they?”
My chest aches with the memories of my crappy childhood. Mom tried her hardest, but we never made it a whole week without worrying about money, bills, or food. “I’m glad their life will be better,” I say, letting my head lean against Mom’s shoulder for a second. “I’m really happy you met Landon.”
“Me too, honey. And he truly loves me. He didn’t even tell me about his wealth until we’d been dating a while, so he knew I wasn’t just some gold-digger.” Mom’s eyes get big and she gazes off in the distance. “I fell in love with him for who he is, and he did the same to me.”
“I’m really happy for you, Mom.”
She grins and reaches for the keys to her new car. “I want to do something fun and drastic. I know! Let’s get our nails done. Hair, too.”
I hate myself for getting excited at the idea of something we could never afford to do a few days ago. But . . . “That sounds fun,” I say, unable to hide my grin.
At a nearby salon, Mom and I sit in these fancy massage chairs with tubs of hot water at the bottom. Professionally skilled nail techs scrub the callouses off our feet and trim our toenails and paint them and everything. It is amazing.
I knew people got pedicures, but I just figured that meant getting their nails painted. I had no idea how much went into it. It’s so relaxing I could die.
Mom doesn’t stop grinning in my direction, and when both our feet and hands look like a movie star’s, she turns to me, giving me a coy look.
“I think we should do something drastic to our hair.”
“Like what?” I say. My hair is brown, a little longer than my shoulders, and very very plain. I’ve never had a real haircut before—at least not one in a salon. Mom has a pair of hair shears and she’s the one who gives us basic hair trimming when we need it.
We pay for our manicures and pedicures and then head over to the hair salon next door. “Hmm,” she says, gazing at the photos of hair models all over the wall. “I’m thinking I should get some highlights, and maybe a nice trim to get rid of my split ends.”
“Okay, I’ll do that too,” I say, suddenly eager to sit in one of the chairs and have someone else with actual talent do my hair for a change. As much as I’m trying not to be materialistic, I’m really having fun.
But maybe that’s okay. This is our “new life” as Mom keeps saying. Maybe I’m allowed to have fun.
Our stylist’s name is Bae, and she’s tall and beautiful and has an amazing Jamaican accent. She loves mom’s highlight idea, but when
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