Her eyes, his lies

Chapter 13

Jane's mom was sitting in her usual spot, elbows resting on the kitchen table. A plastic cup lay near her hand, and a newspaper was held in the other. Jane cleared her throat as she entered.

"Oh, you were out late," her mother said, glancing at the clock.

Jane eyed the cup on the table. She hoped it wasn't what she thought it was.

She opened the fridge, glancing inside. The pickings were sparse, with a single jar of pickles and what must have been a loaf of bread at some point. Jane sighed as she shifted the loaf away, next to a row of high-proof beers.

With a clink, she shut the fridge. Her mother exhaled behind her as she drank deeply from her cup.

Something felt different. Call it sleep deprivation, or the after-bite of adrenaline, but Jane felt unusual. Braver. And a little frustrated.

"Are you drinking again?" she asked, the edge of her voice slightly harder than she'd intended it to be.

Her mother turned from her newspaper, eyes wide. "No, baby, not tonight."

It was clearly a lie. Her mother's words slurred like that of a stroke patient, her eyes bloodshot and shiny.

Jane opened her mouth to reply, an impulse, but stopped herself.

"What's wrong? What happened?" her mother asked. She seemed concerned, even through the bleariness of the booze.

"Nothing, I-" Jane realized she had responded automatically, as she had to the same question so many times before. She blinked. She obviously couldn't tell her mother about the shady undercover policeman that had tracked her down on the street.

She took a seat, next to her mother. "A boy asked me out."

Her mother lowered the cup, amusement in her red-rimmed eyes. "Really? That's wonderful, Jane."

Yeah, Jane thought, just wonderful.

"How..." Jane swallowed, imagining Ryder's angular face. "How did you and dad meet?"

Her mother's eyes, once again, widened in surprise. That had been the last question she'd expected.

"Well. Me and your father, we were both in high school when we met. Sophomore year. It was a different time then."

Her mother had a wistful look on her face. A longing for better times. "He wasn't the most popular boy. I mean, you can tell, can't you? All skinny and with that red hair of his. But I liked it. I liked him. I thought he was the most handsome devil in the world," her mother continued. She took a sip from the cup.

"We met at the science fair. He'd made some kind of computer-controlled toy car. Back then, it was pretty rare to find computer-based toys. I remember, he was so proud of himself. He'd worked so hard on that little thing."

Jane had a vague idea of what she was talking about. She remembered the toy, a plastic car in a glass casing, one of her father's many knickknacks. They'd left it behind when they moved to Alexander.

Her mother was running her finger over the lip of her cup. "He was really smart, your father. You get that from him. Smart and awkward. I remember him tripping over himself, trying to explain to me what a transistor was on our first date. I kissed him just to shut him up."

"Mom!" Jane exclaimed, flushing.

Her mother laughed. "But, my point is, we never would have met if I hadn't spoken to him first. If I hadn't gone with my heart, and asked him out. That was scandalous back in the day, you know! Only the boys were allowed to do that."