Seven Minutes to Midnight

30

A death sentence over one's head is a good way to learn to appreciate the people around you. When I awoke the next day, much earlier than usual due to the way our night was abruptly cut off, I found my mother in the kitchen, making breakfast.

"You're up early," she said without turning around. "I was beginning to think you were turning into one of those vampires you're always reading about."

My arms wrapped around her stomach, my face pressing into her back.

Remember how I said I never felt like hugging anyone?

My mother was as surprised as I was. Because I wasn't merely hugging her, I was crying, too.

"Amy, honey, what's wrong?" Somehow, despite my grip on her, my mother managed to turn around so she could stroke my hair. "Did something happen? Did that boy do something to you?"

I took a deep breath and pushed myself away, tried to compose myself. "Wh-what boy?" I wiped at the moisture under my eyes.

"Don't think I don't know," my mother said, a little smile on her mouth. "The one you met at the art museum? The one who's been making you hum to yourself in the mornings."

I cringed. Humming?

Then her mouth got serious. "Did he break up with you?"

"No, no, nothing like that." I laughed a little, sniffing back all the mucus that threatened to run out of my nose. "No, he didn't break up with me."

"Did he do something else to you?"

"No! Nothing. He didn't do anything. I don't know why I'm crying."

My mother looked at me skeptically. "Are you pregnant?"

"No!"

"All right..." She turned back to the stove. "Do you want an omelet, then?"

I spent a good part of the day with my mother, agreeing to go shopping with her. We wandered around the mall, sipping Starbucks coffees, talking about life. Mostly about her life. I tried to avoid the subject of my own life, letting her know a few details about Lane, "the boy I've been dating." Since I didn't know the answers to most of her questions (Have you met his parents? Where does he want to go to college?), it wasn't very hard.

I even let my mother drag me into a department store, where she went through the racks of formal wear. "Are you going to a wedding or something?" I asked, wincing at a bright pink sequined number.

"I was thinking more for a junior prom," she said, thrusting the dress at me.

"Mom! That's, like, a year away! I don't think Lane and I are that serious." When my mother's face fell, I added, "Besides, I don't think pink is my color."

When we got home, I decided to call Veronica. My mother went into her room to get ready to go out for dinner and drinks with some work friends.

"Hello?" She sounded like she had been asleep all this time.

"Hey, do you want to hang out?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. Or in a little while, if you need to get ready. I think we should talk."

"Talk? About what?"

I glanced at my mother, who was in her room across the hall, within listening distance. "You know. What happened last night."

Veronica sighed. "I don't really see what we need to talk about, but fine. Just let me take a shower and I'll come over. Is your mom going to be there?"