Page 19 of Wildfire
“You can visit us at camp if you want to, Mom.” I push a strawberry around my plate, waiting for her response, because with a mother like mine, whose self-worth is so heavily intertwined with the title of mother that it becomes exhausting, every word is a chess move. “Visiting day is in July. I can text you the date.”
“You clearly don’t want me to visit, Aurora.”
I’ve never been very good at chess. “Mom—”
“Ms. Roberts, did I tell you about the camera Poppy bought me to take pictures at camp?” Emilia interrupts, reaching for her purse. “As you know, I didn’t get to go to sleepaway camp when I was younger, and I was so happy when Aurora finally gave in to me begging her to be a camp counselor with me. She says you picked the best camp, so I’m really excited.”
I begged Emilia to be a counselor with me, not the other way around, but my mom doesn’t need to know that. She’ll be too distracted by the praise.
Like mother, like daughter.
“Aurora has always had the best. Not that you’ve ever appreciated it, have you, darling? You’d have been happy rolling around a pig farm when you were younger. You just wanted to play somewhere there weren’t any tires.”
Emilia grabs the camera from her purse and hands it to my mother. Mom’s face lights up as she clicks through the pictures, murmuring about what a beautiful couple Poppy and Emilia are and how great Emilia looks wearing blue.
“And where were you when the girls were hiking?”
I was sitting on a basketball player’s face. “Studying.”
“You were studying? After your finals?”
“Yeah.” Shit. “I was studying ropes and stuff for camp.” I was tied to a bed. “Plus they’re a couple, Mom. They don’t want me third-wheeling on their date.”
“That’s true. Will you not miss her, Emilia? Ten weeks is such a long time.” She’s talking to Emilia, but I can feel her eyes on me, waiting for me to react to her subtle dig. “Trust me, it feels like forever.”
“I’ll miss Poppy, but it’s fine, we’ll both be super busy. She’s in Europe with her mom until school restarts.”
Emilia knows what she accidentally did before I even have time to flinch. Her big brown eyes meet mine and she gives me a look that says, “I’ll fire myself, don’t worry.”
Crisis manager, my ass.
Mom’s lips pull into a tight line as she focuses on neatly folding the napkin from her lap and placing it on the table. “Poppy must really love her mother to want to spend the whole summer with her, isn’t that nice. Excuse me, girls, I’m going to use the restroom.”
It’s amazing how one woman can suck all the oxygen from the room with one sentence.
“Ow,” Emilia cries, placing her hand on her forehead over thespot I flicked as soon as the door to the restroom closed behind Mom. “I deserved that. It just came out!”
“You could have said anything.”
“I’m sorry! God, I wish your dad was here. He’s better at being in the firing line than me. Maybe I need to change majors; I’m terrible at this.”
“You really are.”
“I wonder if Elsa’s friends were ever put through the Emotion Olympics with your mother,” she muses, mopping up the last of her syrup with a piece of French toast.
“Like Elsa would ever agree to breakfast. Or have real friends.”
“That’s true. When do you think we can politely say peace and leave?”
I can’t help but snort. “She might keep us here until we miss our flight.”
“Are you good? She’s been even more intense than normal this morning.”
“She’s just spiraling because Dad’s girlfriend and Elsa are competing to see who can spend the most time in the tabloids and I’m leaving. It’s fine.”
“Your dad’s girlfriend the florist?”
“No, he broke up with her, remember? I’m talking about Norah. The ex-weather woman. Or was she a Real Housewife of somewhere?” I shake my head as I mentally try to recap my father’s long dating history. “I can’t remember. Anyway, whatever she did she loves a photo op.”
