Jessica Sankiewicz - If Only We

Before I leave, I tell Noreen, “Thank you so much for letting me stay for dinner. It was delicious.”

“I’m just glad you were able to come. I don’t get to see too much of Chevy’s friends. It’s nice to have one of them over here for once instead of him off wandering with them.”

Chevy rolls his eyes. “Roger was just over here yesterday.”

“Yeah, for five minutes.” She looks at me and shakes her head. “Kids.” I chuckle at her motherly humor.

“Okay, time to go,” Chevy says as he gently pulls me toward the door. Just as we are about to reach it, I look back and make eye contact with John. I can sense he wants to tell me something but he can’t with Noreen standing next to him. It would give it all away. It takes everything I have inside not to break down. I give him a smile and nod once to let him know that I know what he wanted to say. What did he want to tell me?

Thank you.

“You know you can’t hide from your mom forever.”

Leave it to Lyndsay to jump to the point. I have managed to avoid speaking to my mom since the blow-up. Once dinner at Chevy’s was over, I went to the coffee shop and stayed there for the rest of the night until close. Instead of going over the argument in my head again and again, I got out my sketchpad and started coming up with new ideas. When I finally got home, it was eleven and I went straight to my room and closed the door. Then this morning, I went straight from my room and out the door to come here.

I make a face at her. “You do realize this happened less than twenty-four hours ago, right?”

“True. I just wanted to make sure you don’t fall into some sort of crazy robot state where you just mindlessly go from place to place to accomplish your career goal.”

“I know. I'm going to need some time because she needs time to cool off. Not just for me, but also for your mom. It's only a matter of time before she gets on that phone and calls her up. If I have learned anything from this, it is that I have done very little this summer to prove I can have a career in something else. That’s why this,” I point to the purse pile, “is my current focus. I made the plan to go today; I am going to follow through no matter what has happened in the meantime. This fight is temporary.” I hope , I add to myself.

She nods. “Okay, I understand.” Picking up one of the purses, she asks, “You want me to tag along? I wouldn’t mind browsing around a cute little crafty gift shop. As long as I won’t be in the way.”

“Actually, I could use the moral support.” There is a slight tightening in my stomach from nerves, even more so than before, with how much is on the line. I don’t want anything to get in the way of fixing these mistakes. I only have a short amount of time to make things right with my mom. I know I shouldn't base my whole future on what happens today.

Somehow, it feels like it does.

Mary Ann of Hidden Treasures is a bubbly and sweet woman. Upon showing her my purses and wallets, her eyes light up. “These are just adorable! Let me get you a form.” She bolts into the room behind the front counter.

When I first walked in, I had a good feeling about this place. Mary Ann had this enthusiasm about her that you could see in the way she carried herself. She is most likely close to my grandma’s age but she sure is spunky.

Lyndsay gives me a thumbs-up from behind a clothes rack, then ducks away to keep perusing the handmade shirts.

Mary Ann comes back with a paper and pen. “Here you go, dear. Just fill this out and I’ll get the tags started for these.”

I fill out the form. Since it's a commission store, I'll only receive sixty percent of the sale. That is okay though because it's the stepping-stone to greater things. Dozens of people on a daily basis will see my creations. It's only a matter of time before word spreads. Part of me is overjoyed at this prospect. The other part of me believes I should have made more. That other part of me is forgetting that I am broke now. Never mind about that, Adrienne. It won’t be long until you have money again. I quickly cross my fingers under the counter.

Once we finalize all the pricing and other details, she places my work on a shelf of its own. It feels so good to see it on display. Like all of this was worth it.

“I pay my clients by the month,” she says before I walk out. “So give me a call or come by the beginning of September to get your August earnings.”

I smile. “Okay, that sounds great. Thank you!”

After spending the afternoon out with Lyndsay, I go home around six, hoping my mom has cooled off. At least enough to have a civilized conversation at dinner.

The family is in the dining room setting up. Kaitlin has the silverware, Maurice is placing the vegetables in the center next to the mashed potatoes and roast, and Mom is putting the serving spoons and forks in each. They look up at me at the same time. Kaitlin is surprised to see me, Maurice has a look of pity, and my mom? No expression. I blink a couple times and stammer, “Let me, um, let me get the glasses.” I rush off to the kitchen, get four glasses out of the cupboard, and bring them out.

We eat in silence for a minute. Then Maurice clears his throat and says, “How was everyone’s day today?”

Nobody speaks. I'm afraid to say anything. As much as I wanted to share my good news, I can’t. It's too soon and will only make my mom angrier.

“That good, huh?” he jokes. “Well, mine was fine. I had to go in to work for a couple hours to fix the computers but at least they are up and running for Monday. Otherwise it would have been a disaster.”

“I could imagine,” Mom says quietly, staring down at her food.

“How about you, Adrienne?” he says, turning to me.

I freeze in place with my fork halfway to my mouth. I steal a glance at my mom, who is still staring down at her food. I suppose I have no choice but to answer, regardless of the response. “Um, well, Lyndsay and I went out to Hidden Treasures and then did some shopping.”

“Hidden Treasures?”

“It’s an arts and crafts commission shop in Richmond.”

“Huh, haven’t heard of it. Did you buy anything nice?”

Here goes nothing. “I wasn’t there to buy.”

“Oh. What were you doing there then?”

“I was there to sell.” I carefully place my forkful of broccoli in my mouth.

This is when my mom chooses to speak. “Sell what?”

“Purses and wallets.”

She sets down her knife and fork, then carefully dabs her mouth with a napkin. “Are you telling me…that you spent the summer making purses…and wallets?” She nearly chokes out the last part.

I flinch, but calmly reply, “Yes…and pillows.”

Kaitlin turns to me with wide eyes. “You made my pillows?” she asks in awe. I nod. She looks like she wants to smile but she doesn’t.

“Well then,” Mom says, throwing her napkin down on her plate, “it’s nice to see you’re not wasting your life away.”

“Joy,” Maurice says gently, touching her hand.

She shakes her head and stands up, hands on either side of her plate. “No, Maurice, I can’t sit here and listen to this.” She looks at me. “Adrienne, I cannot express my outrage at your immaturity. Purses? Pillows? You can’t make a career out of that! You can’t live off the income from that! There is no way you can justify this choice.” She points a finger at me. “Let me tell you something: You're going to find out real fast what the real world is if you keep this up. You had the perfect career right in front of you that we have had planned out since you were little and you’re going to give it up to be some sort of ‘designer.’” She makes quotes with her fingers.