The White Fence

29. Mother and Child

            I stayed in Boston until the week before classes started. When I arrived back in Bakersfield, I was surprised by how overcome I was at the sight of my mom. I nearly bowled her over with my hug when I got off the train. Her shock from my reaction was still marked on her face once we stepped away. “To what do I owe this honor,” she remarked.

            “I missed you,” I enthused. For good measure I gave her a solid kiss on the cheek, which made her blush.  

            “Did my sis treat you horribly?” my mom inquired.

            “No, ma’am!” I assured her, “Aunt Joanne is incredible!” My aunt was that rare person who could die tomorrow and no one would feel bad about her passing because she lived fully every day of her life. She was somewhat of a rarity, even in the changing climates. She was a single woman in her 40s, had never been married, and didn’t have any kids. A very happy old maid. It was perhaps for this reason that I’d always felt more connected to her than to my own mother. I admired my aunt for not getting married, for choosing to live her life the way that she wanted to. Getting to spend the summer with her had just reiterated how alike we were…but, oddly, it made me feel strangely sentimental towards my mom.  

            “Your sister is so neat!” I informed her. “We saw Hello, Dolly! She took me to some other plays, too, and we went to a bunch of museums, and I got to see Grandpa again!”

            There was a slight hesitation, but she kissed me on my head. “I missed you too, Tracy,” she remarked, stiffly. “Now let’s get you home to your friends so they can stop harassing me. By the way, whatever happened to Frankie?”

            On the drive to our house, I caught my mom up on the things that I’d seen, done, heard, and learned over the summer. I’d had to update her every weekend to let her know that everything was okay, but that had merely been obligatory. So now I filled her in on what I hadn’t told her in our brief calls. There was a lot that I hadn’t been able to tell her about because there had been so much crammed into those five weeks that I didn’t have the time to write it all down.

            “There was this one seminar that we sat in on that talked about using puppets to teach inner-city kids basic life skills, like counting, and the ABCs, but on TV!” I said, telling her about the workshop we’d done with Professor Gerald Lesser. After Dr. Zinn, I think that was my favorite moment of the program. “At the end of the workshop, we’d been given a demonstration, and afterwards, we’d even gotten the chance to participate.

            “Thank you so much for letting me stay,” I concluded.

            When we got home, I called Patrice and Derek to let them know that I was back. I’d lucked out with my friend: she was home and came over almost as soon as we’d hung up. Since we hadn’t talked for practically the whole summer, we had a lot of catching up to do. Before we had much of a chance, the doorbell rang, and my mom very stiffly informed me that I had additional company. Patrice looked at me questioningly. “Were you expectin’ any one?”

            “It’s Derek,” I told her. Her look became even more questioning. I didn’t answer the look. “Come with me?”

            In the living room, Derek was seated and looking very formal sitting across from my mother. As soon as I walked into the room, though, he sprung up, smiling.

            “Hi,” I greeted, returning the smile.

            “Hey!” he said, excitedly. He started to cover the distance between us, looked at my mom, looked at Patrice, and with a lot of restraint, sat back down. He nodded at Patrice, and finished answering whatever question my mom had asked him. He kept shooting glances over at me, though, until my mom finally excused herself. He was quick to jump up, again, once she was gone. He hugged me tightly to him. “God, I’ve missed you,” he said with longing, momentarily lifting me off the ground. “How was tha rest of your vacation? How was Boston?”