Not an ideal state of things, but I’ll take it. Anything is better than yesterday’s attitude. To further confirm that a mood shift has taken place, when I ask Tegan where she wants to have lunch, she doesn’t give me a cheeky or sarcastic answer like “Wherever war prisoners may eat,” or “I’d like a homemade meal prepared by my mom’s loving hands for a change.”
Tegan just shrugs and says, “How about tacos?”
I smile, despite my resolution of keeping a stern, severe, you-really-screwed-up-this-time-kiddo attitude for the entire duration of her suspension, and say, “Tacos sound wonderful.”
We go to our favorite taqueria in Brooklyn, and once the meal is over, the second surprise of the day arrives.
Tegan polishes the last crumbs of her tortilla from her plate, takes a sip of Coke, and then looks up at me, sighing a heavy, “Mom?”
“Yes?” I say, bracing myself for whatever will come next. Is she going to ask me for her phone back, or to let her go to the game on Saturday? I must stay strong and refuse all attempts at buttering me up. Vodka Gate could’ve ruined her chances to get accepted to a good college. And if she can’t see how serious the topic is, I need to be the responsible adult and show her that choices have consequences. Even if it sucks just as much for me to enforce the rules as it does for her to follow them.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
“For which part?” I say dryly.
She looks down at her interlaced hands in her lap. “All of it. I’m sorry for drinking at school; I know it was stupid… But I’m also sorry for what I said afterward, to you.”
A little string pulls in my chest. For as much as Tegan’s words were hurtful yesterday, her apology today is heartwarming. Damn, she’s good. If she wanted to find a perfect way to stroke my mommy feathers, she just did. I inwardly prep myself for the upcoming ask. “And?”
“And nothing. I was mad at myself because I’d acted foolishly and got caught, and I was mad at those bitches Mykenna and Sydney because they tried to pin it all on me when it wasn’t my fault, and I took it out on you. I was mean, and I’m sorry. Whatever punishment I get, I deserved it. And, Mom, I know you’ve made a lot of sacrifices to raise me on your own, and you’ve always been in my corner. You didn’t deserve for me to lash out the way I did yesterday. I’m sorry.”
Okay, whatever Tegan asks next, she can have. No mom’s heart could resist such a declaration. I’m barely able to contain the tears, and I’m even willing to slide past her calling her classmates names. Those two sure sounded like bitches.
I reach across the table to hold Tegan’s hand, and the fact that she lets me is already a sign of how momentous the circumstance is. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Tegan nods and, to my utter astonishment, doesn’t ask for anything in return. No phone, no volleyball game, no laptop. Yesterday, she made me question my ability to be a good mother by her reckless behavior; and now, today, she goes and behaves like this perfect human.
It is true kids never cease to amaze.
***
That night, at home, I decide to investigate the vodka incident a little deeper. It’s easier to look at the facts now that my anger has subsided and logic can take over. I need to understand what drove my rule-following, perfectionist of a daughter to such an act of rebellion. And given the rare moment of confidence we shared at lunch, I’m pretty sure I can get her to talk if I ask the right questions.
Once dinner is over, I take a carton of ice cream out of the fridge—the heavy stuff—and grab two spoons. Nothing says mother-daughter bonding like cookie dough.
I offer a spoon to Tegan and sit next to her so we’re sharing a corner of the table.
“Honey, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about what happened at school?”
She shrugs without replying. At least it’s not a hard “no” which, when dealing with a teen, I’ve painfully learned it should already be counted as a victory.
“Have those girls been mean to you in the past? Are they bullying you?”
“No, Mom, don’t worry, Mykenna Flanagan and I never hang in the same circles. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.”
“Why did you drink, then? If you don’t care about what this Mykenna thinks… Was it because of a boy? You like one of them?”
“Mom!” Tegan drops her spoon and blushes tomato red. “You can’t ask me that!”
“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with liking someone… although maybe I wouldn’t have picked a boy who brings alcohol to school… And you don’t want to date a spoiled rich kid; trust me, they’re the worst.”
“That’s exactly why we can’t talk about boys. You’re too prejudiced about men.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You only fall for the improbable characters of romance movies. When have you ever given a chance to a real man, like, in real life?”
Stung by her words, even if they’re a little more accurate than I’m willing to admit, I say, “Well, Tegan, good men are hard to come by. And I do take chances with men.”
“Give me one example,” she challenges.
Thank goodness I let Lee persuade me into joining that dating service; otherwise, I’d be eating my own words right now. “I’ve joined a dating agency,” I announce, and Tegan’s jaw drops. “The same one Lee used to meet Garrett. Is that enough out there for you?”
“Really, Mom?” Tegan throws her arms around my neck, side-hugging me from her chair. “I’m so happy for you! I’m sure you’re going to find someone. I can’t wait to meet him.”
She lets go, and I study her bright smile, perplexed. I hadn’t been sure what
