Mom didn’t say anything for at least thirty seconds. “Well, it sounds like your mind’s made up,” she said succinctly and to the point.
“Yes, yes it is,” I said, feeling myself become irrationally defensive.
“But this guy with no future and no plans that you clearly have no respect for, drove you all the way to Maryland in the middle of the night so you could see your father. Huh,” she said and then went silent again.
Even through my frustration with this direction of our conversation, her words hit me like a ton of bricks.
“I respect him. That’s a little harsh,” I bit out.
“You respect him? Then why spend all this time telling me why he is such a bad fit for you? It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than me,” my mother informed me, sounding entirely too smug.
“I’m going to have a life that matters, Mom. I promised Dad I would have a life that means something. How can I do that with someone whose life doesn’t mean anything?” I asked, feeling like such a jerk for stating the thoughts that so often floated around my head. But it was the crux of my decisions where Garrett was concerned and I needed to vocalize them to the one person who wouldn’t judge me for them.
“How can you say his life doesn’t mean something? That’s very callous of you, Riley and your father and I raised you to be tolerant, compassionate and understanding. Your father said those words to you knowing you would continue to be that amazing and loving girl that we raised. But to make your mind up about someone without giving them the opportunity to show you who they really are, well that’s very Republican of you,” my mom said firmly and I almost gasped.
She had called me a Republican. And to my granola eating, tree-hugging mother, that was the height of insult.
“Mom, how could you say that to me?” I asked, feeling like a little kid being scolded for taking the last cookie. Parents were way too good at making you feel bad.
“Riley, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just disappointed in you. I don’t know this Garrett. And from the sounds of it, you don’t really either. Whose to say his life of meaning isn’t just as beautiful as the one you want to have? Whose to say you can’t make those lives matter together? Because the way that boy looked at you was something special. Your father would want you to do what makes your heart happy. Forget your head,” she advised and I had no words to refute her.
Because she was right.
Damn it, Moms were always right.
21
“That girl’s poem was so infantile. I mean who tries to compare the destruction of western civilization with rotting fruit and say it with a straight face? Talk about trying too hard. Blech,” a girl named Karly said, sipping her Mocha Latte.
I was stuck at a table with four people who at one time I had considered friends. They had been acquaintances by way of my relationship with Damien. So in truth, they were his friends. His crowd. But not too long ago, I had sat around in this same kitschy coffee shop mocking everyone in order to make myself feel superior.
Wow, self-realization was a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.
Damien nodded as though Karly’s comments were the smartest thing he had ever heard.
“Word,” an overly skinny dude in a beret named Lou said from beside her. Had this douche really just said word? Had I blissfully ignored how these people reeked of pretention or had I been just as bad?
“I don’t know, I thought she was pretty good,” I spoke up, never one to sit by while other people were being dicks. From the way Karly looked at me in surprise, I had obviously never thought she was of the dick persuasion before.
“Are you serious, Riley? That drivel? Don’t make me laugh,” Karly snickered as though I couldn’t possibly be serious. The rest of the group laughed, including Damien who seemed to think I had knowingly made a big funny.
“Oh god, now it’s this dumbass’s turn. Who wants to be the first to boo him off the stage? Because if I have to hear one more poem about Star Trek I call riot,” Damien muttered, stirring his herbal tea after pouring an excessive amount of sugar in it. What was the point of herbal tea when you covered up the taste with insulin shock?
“Oh me!” Karly volunteered, going so far as to raise her hand like we were in class. Damien reached across the table to give her a high five and the peanut gallery yucked it up in anticipation of some poor guy’s epic downfall.
Damien gave me an excited smile as he grabbed the hand that lay in my lap. Lacing our fingers together like we had done a million times before in this very coffee shop, I could almost delude myself into thinking this was normal. That this is what I wanted.
And I used to believe in the Tooth Fairy too.
“You know what guys, I’ve had enough of screaming pretentious bullshit for one night, thanks,” I announced getting to my feet. Karly, Lou, and another guy named Colby stared at me with their mouths hanging open. I suppose I had somehow kept snarky Riley away from this group.
Damien looked at me frowning. “What are you talking about? I thought we were having a good time,” he said, pulling that hurt look he did so well.
“Yeah, well that was before I remembered what a bunch of ass**les you guys are. I’ve got better things to do.” I pulled on my coat and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Karly and the beret twins were whispering to each other while giving me evil looks. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they looked sneering at me over the top of their ten dollar suburban housewife coffees. Sorry, lattes.
Damien got to his feet and reached out as though to stop me. “I can come with you. Just wait and let me grab another coffee.” He was already reaching into his pocket for his wallet when I stopped him.
“No, Damien. There’s no point. I’m going to Barton’s,” I told him and the look Damien gave me said that explained everything. He slowly sat back down and then lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave.
“Well I guess I’ll see you later then,” he said, turning away from me. Huh. How easy it was to end something that should never have started back up in the first place. If only everything in life were that easy.
The guy with the Star Trek poem took the stage and I cupped my hands around my mouth and gave him a loud whoop. He looked at me startled, the group I had just left, watching me in disgust. I pumped my fist in the air.
“Rock it, dude! Star Trek rules!” I yelled, wanting to laugh at the look on Damien’s face.
Without another word, I hurried out of the coffee shop, laughing hysterically the whole way. Thankfully I had driven that night. Perhaps I should have asked Damien if he was cool getting another ride, but I’m sure one of his dickhead friends could give him a ride. You know, after they eviscerated everyone’s poetry and declared they were the coolest kids in the room.