quieter, less crazy. Less chance of maiming yourself.”
And with a nod and another handshake that moved so fast their fingers blurred, they launched themselves onto their boards, leaving me to count down the seconds to Sunday.
S unday finally arrived. It wheezed toward me asthmatically, refusing point-blank to take a hit on its inhaler, compounding my paranoia and fraying my nerves still further.
I’d focused on nothing but dropping off the top of the ramp for the first time. It occupied my every thought, awake or asleep.
As I brushed my teeth impatiently on Sunday morning, I stared into the mirror and cringed at the bags that hung beneath my eyes. I knew no one could look more tired than me. Until I saw Mom.
She was slumped at the kitchen table, every inch of her sagging as she clung to a steaming cup of coffee. I asked her if she was okay, but it took three attempts for her to even hear me.
“Hard week at college?” I asked again, wondering if I should try sign language instead.
She tried to smile, but failed. “No, no. Lots of fun. I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”
She wasn’t herself. In fact, she wasn’t my mom at all. Some kind of personality abduction had occurred. I felt like I should check the backyard for signs of a UFO. There had to be some explanation for what was going on.
She looked so different. Like someone had slapped twenty years on her by scrunching up her face like an old piece of paper. She rubbed self-consciously at her cheeks, the wrinkles fading momentarily before creasing again.
It freaked me out, of course it did, because Mom never, ever looked defeated by anything.
Defeat
wasn’t in her vocabulary.
If anything or anyone had the audacity to challenge her or try to prove her wrong, she’d fight back, nails exposed and voice raised if necessary. She might have been a monumental pain in the nether regions, but at least she had energy and enthusiasm. She wouldn’t have endlessly gone to night school for the past eight years without it.
So what had happened? I had to ask.
“Are you
sure
you’re all right, Mom?”
She managed to raise her eyes to mine, and they twinkled with affection for a nanosecond before fizzling out.
“That’s very nice of you to ask, Charlie. And I am. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed, then? I’ll bring your cup up for you if you like?”
I felt bad suggesting it, and there was no way she’d accept, but it’d be easier to sneak out if she was back under her comforter. Easier on my guilt levels too, if I didn’t have to lie to get out the door.
“Maybe I will. Another half an hour wouldn’t do any harm, right?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded, though her answer made me want to probe further, dig into what on earth was going on.
We sat in silence for a minute. She looked like she might drown in her coffee cup if I abandoned her.
“Go on, then,” I whispered encouragingly in her ear. “Get yourself back to bed.”
I ushered her to the stairs, passing the cup into her hands as she climbed.
“I’m going out for a bit now. Be back for lunch.”
I braced myself for the inevitable question
Where to?
but it didn’t come. Instead, she simply said, “Okay,” and closed the bedroom door behind her.
I frowned. It shouldn’t have been so easy. There were no questions, no curfew, not even a searching look into my guilt-ridden eyes.
Puzzled, I considered abandoning all plans, until anticipation started to bite again at my gut.
Shaking all other thoughts out of my head, I pulled on my sneakers without unlacing them and eased the front door shut.
As I hit the street, I glanced backward once, to Mom’s bedroom window, my heart leaping when I saw her figure filling the pane.
Is she on to me after all? Lulling me into a false sense of security?
I studied her gaze, my heart settling when I realized she was staring absently into space. She looked so sad that I considered turning back. Fortunately,
And with a nod and another handshake that moved so fast their fingers blurred, they launched themselves onto their boards, leaving me to count down the seconds to Sunday.
S unday finally arrived. It wheezed toward me asthmatically, refusing point-blank to take a hit on its inhaler, compounding my paranoia and fraying my nerves still further.
I’d focused on nothing but dropping off the top of the ramp for the first time. It occupied my every thought, awake or asleep.
As I brushed my teeth impatiently on Sunday morning, I stared into the mirror and cringed at the bags that hung beneath my eyes. I knew no one could look more tired than me. Until I saw Mom.
She was slumped at the kitchen table, every inch of her sagging as she clung to a steaming cup of coffee. I asked her if she was okay, but it took three attempts for her to even hear me.
“Hard week at college?” I asked again, wondering if I should try sign language instead.
She tried to smile, but failed. “No, no. Lots of fun. I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”
She wasn’t herself. In fact, she wasn’t my mom at all. Some kind of personality abduction had occurred. I felt like I should check the backyard for signs of a UFO. There had to be some explanation for what was going on.
She looked so different. Like someone had slapped twenty years on her by scrunching up her face like an old piece of paper. She rubbed self-consciously at her cheeks, the wrinkles fading momentarily before creasing again.
It freaked me out, of course it did, because Mom never, ever looked defeated by anything.
Defeat
wasn’t in her vocabulary.
If anything or anyone had the audacity to challenge her or try to prove her wrong, she’d fight back, nails exposed and voice raised if necessary. She might have been a monumental pain in the nether regions, but at least she had energy and enthusiasm. She wouldn’t have endlessly gone to night school for the past eight years without it.
So what had happened? I had to ask.
“Are you
sure
you’re all right, Mom?”
She managed to raise her eyes to mine, and they twinkled with affection for a nanosecond before fizzling out.
“That’s very nice of you to ask, Charlie. And I am. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed, then? I’ll bring your cup up for you if you like?”
I felt bad suggesting it, and there was no way she’d accept, but it’d be easier to sneak out if she was back under her comforter. Easier on my guilt levels too, if I didn’t have to lie to get out the door.
“Maybe I will. Another half an hour wouldn’t do any harm, right?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded, though her answer made me want to probe further, dig into what on earth was going on.
We sat in silence for a minute. She looked like she might drown in her coffee cup if I abandoned her.
“Go on, then,” I whispered encouragingly in her ear. “Get yourself back to bed.”
I ushered her to the stairs, passing the cup into her hands as she climbed.
“I’m going out for a bit now. Be back for lunch.”
I braced myself for the inevitable question
Where to?
but it didn’t come. Instead, she simply said, “Okay,” and closed the bedroom door behind her.
I frowned. It shouldn’t have been so easy. There were no questions, no curfew, not even a searching look into my guilt-ridden eyes.
Puzzled, I considered abandoning all plans, until anticipation started to bite again at my gut.
Shaking all other thoughts out of my head, I pulled on my sneakers without unlacing them and eased the front door shut.
As I hit the street, I glanced backward once, to Mom’s bedroom window, my heart leaping when I saw her figure filling the pane.
Is she on to me after all? Lulling me into a false sense of security?
I studied her gaze, my heart settling when I realized she was staring absently into space. She looked so sad that I considered turning back. Fortunately,
Similar Books
