Page 55 of The Do-Over

Later in the week, Mimi and my mother showed at my door.

“Oh, good, you’re home,” my mother said. “I worried you might be on a date with, what is his name? Nelson? Nick? Is that it?”

“Nate.”

“That’s right. I’m not sure why I can’t remember his name.”

I barely contained my eye roll at that comment. She remembered his name perfectly.

“I tried to stop her,” Mimi said as she followed my mother inside. “I swear I did. I wanted to stop at the Walmart and see about getting a new push-up bra, but your mom doesn’t like when I talk about lingerie.”

I closed the door slowly and smacked my head against it, once, twice. Suck it up, Perci.

“Persephone, is this your dinner? A grown woman eating cereal with marshmallows. Really?”

With a sigh, I stumbled down the hallway and found my mother hovering over my half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms. I wisely chose not to tell her I’d planned on having a popsicle for dessert. “So, here you are… in my apartment. Surprise.”

“I gotta tinkle. Be right back.” Mimi made her way to the bathroom.

Mom perched on the edge of the couch. “Your grandmother had a doctor’s appointment, so I drove her.”

“Could have gone on my own,” Mimi yelled from the bathroom.

“Please. Someone needs to take care of you.”

“Yeah. Me. Get your own life.”

Annoyance scribbled on her face, Mom turned back to me. “Can you imagine her driving in Houston? Terrifying. Anyway, we were in the neighborhood”—they were most definitely nowhere close to my neighborhood—“and thought we’d stop in.”

I sat down on the couch opposite her and waited.

She smoothed a hand down her pants. “How are things with work?”

“Excellent.”

Her eyes studied my face. “You seem to enjoy working there.”

“I love it. The kids are fun, Miss Marge is great. I think I finally found something I’m good at.”

Mom folded her hands in her lap, and I could see her fingers turn white as she squeezed them together. I knew whatever came next was the real reason she was here.

“I still don’t see how there’s any kind of future in being a preschool teacher. I appreciate this period of fancifulness, but you’re almost thirty. Why don’t you go back to work with your father? The mortgage business may not be your heart’s desire, but sometimes we do things because they’re the right thing to do, even if we don’t want to. Besides, your father misses you.”

I squirmed under her sharp, dark eyes, but I held my ground. “I’m not going back to Mayfield.”

“Persephone, really. I’ve never known you to be this selfish.”

“Mom.”

She snapped her mouth shut at whatever she heard in my voice. “Fine. I hope this job of yours is the right decision.”

Mimi appeared from the hallway. “Nice toilet paper you got there, Perci. Always get the good stuff for your lady bits.”

“Mama!”

“Bobbie Jo.”

With a scowl, my mother said, “Do you know she asked the doctor what was the going trend in sexually transmitted diseases for seniors these days?”