Starting From Scratch (17 page)

“Wow,” Elena commented. “is was what, the sixties?

Your grandmother was a woman before her time.”

“Definitely. She still is. Very independent. She doesn’t

like to admit that she’s getting older and sometimes needs

help.”

“And where is your mother?”

“I have no idea.”

Elena blinked at me for several seconds. “Wow.

Seriously no idea? She just left you?”

e subject wasn’t one that got to me emotionally very

often, not after thirty years, but something about the

sadness in Elena’s eyes, the pity in her voice…I swallowed

down the lump that threatened to form and gave a curt

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nod. “When I was four. She just took off and never came

back. Last time I heard from her, she was in Colorado. I

think.”

“And when was that?”

“When I turned sixteen. She sent me a birthday card.”

“Jesus, Avery.”

“Yeah, well.” I gave what I hoped was a nonchalant

shrug. at sympathy in her expression was something that

never ceased to raise my defenses, forcing me to prove how

tough I was, that it was no big deal having my mother run

out on me when I was barely more than a toddler. “What

can you do?”

Elena’s eyes told me she wasn’t buying my bravado act,

but she was sweet enough not to say so. “And what about

your dad?”

“I don’t know who he is.” I finished my wine in one

big gulp. “I’m not even sure my mom or grandma knows.” I

shrugged again, beginning to look like a woman with some

sort of tic. “Hell,
he
may not even know. I don’t think he

ever came looking for me, but it took me until I was in my

early twenties to understand that he may not have even

known my mom was pregnant with me.”

Elena sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”

She downed her wine, too, and signaled Jeff. “Do you want

to order a couple appetizers?” she asked suddenly. “I need

to soak up some of the wine in my stomach.”

Her smile was gentle and I agreed. Jeff grabbed us a

menu. Deciding quickly and simply on the stuffed

mushrooms and a plate of the bruschetta, we put in our

order and Elena returned to our conversation without

missing a beat.

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“I’ll never understand how somebody can just

disregard their own kid.” She held up a hand. “And I mean

no offense here. I’m sure there were extenuating

circumstances for your mom that I know nothing about,

but…I just don’t get it.”

My brain, of course, immediately zoomed to visions of

Cindy paying no attention whatsoever to Max during

practice, but before I could silently condemn Elena for

being blind or a hypocrite, she stunned me and brought

the subject up herself.

“My ex is like that,” she said quietly.

“Cindy?”

“You’ve met her?”

“At practice.”

“Yeah? Did she hit on you?”

I looked away, grabbed for my wine, willed Jeff to

bring our food.

Elena squeezed my forearm, her touch warm and

comforting. “It’s no big deal, Avery. It’s certainly not new

behavior from her.”

I shook my head. “She doesn’t waste any time,” I

commented with a bit of a snort, remembering how

quickly Cindy had sized me up at one practice, then asked

me out the next time she saw me.

“She never did.”

I didn’t want to pry. At the same time, I wanted to

know more. I felt like Elena and I were really connecting,

and I wanted to know her on a deeper level, corny as that

sounded. “Did she…want Max? I mean, from the

beginning?” I crossed my fingers and prayed I wasn’t

treading on offensive territory here.

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“Oh, God, yes. Us having a child was actually her

idea.”

I stared at her in disbelief as Jeff arrived with our food.

We arranged our plates, our utensils, and each took a bite

before continuing the conversation. “Seriously?” I asked,

trying to reconcile the could-barely-be-bothered-with-

her-kid woman I’d seen with somebody who truly wanted

a baby, who actually suggested it, introduced the idea into

the relationship.

“Absolutely. I wanted kids, too, but I also wanted to

wait a bit. I had Max when I was thirty. I would have

waited a few more years. But Cindy…no, Cindy wanted to

have a baby right then. And what Cindy wants, Cindy

gets.” at last bit was said with just enough disgust to tell

me it wasn’t the first time Cindy had wanted something

that Elena didn’t.

“So…why didn’t she have the baby then?”

Elena’s answering laugh was bitter. “Oh, she didn’t

want to
carry
a baby. She just wanted to
have
one. It was a

status symbol for her, though I didn’t realize that until Max

hit the Terrible Twos and she disappeared whenever he got

difficult. Her friends were having kids around her, her

brother’s wife had a baby. She didn’t like having the

attention pulled away from her, so she figured out a way to

get it back.” She popped a mushroom into her mouth and

smiled ruefully at me. “Of course, it’s only after three years

of therapy that I’ve been able to figure some of this stuff

out.”

I raised my glass. “To therapy.”

“Amen.”

“Max is a great kid,” I said, trying to take away the

gray fog that seemed to settle across her face.

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It worked. Her smile broke through. “He is. I can’t

imagine my life without him. And I don’t understand how

Cindy doesn’t feel the same way.”

“She’s not you,” I said simply, because it was simple.

“She didn’t even want to be called any variation of

Mom. ‘Cece’ was her idea.” She rolled her eyes to show

what she thought of that. “I think she was relieved when I

told her I was leaving her and I was taking Max with me

to my parents’ house.”

We sat for several minutes in silence, just eating. It

was surprisingly comfortable and I felt no squirming need

to break the quiet with small talk. When Elena finally

spoke again, a fire burned in her eyes as she looked at me.

“at’s what I meant when I said I don’t get it,” she

said told me. “e hardest part of all of this is trying to

reassure Max that Cindy does love him, that she’s not mad

at him, that he didn’t do anything wrong, that it isn’t his

fault his other mother is an idiot. I don’t know how your

grandmother did it. I really don’t. She must be one very

strong woman.”

I’d grown out of pondering it too often, but when I

was a young adult and could finally think about things

outside of the Box of Me that teenagers and college kids

tend to get stuck in, I started to realize how hard it must

have been for my grandmother. She never said anything

terrible about my mother, but I think she fell back on the

old adage, “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything

at all,” because she really didn’t talk about her much. I

began to realize, though, how disappointed she must have

been. Here she’d spent twenty years raising what she hoped

was a kind, intelligent, responsible girl and what happens?

Teenage pregnancy aside, the girl decides one day to leave

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her four-year-old with her mother and run off, leaving no

note, no forwarding address, no numbers, nothing. What is

a mother to think about her parenting skills after

something like that? It often occurred to me that Grandma

must have felt like a failure, she must have been scared,

resentful, exhausted, frustrated…so many things and

nowhere to vent, nobody to vent to. Still, she took great

pains to make sure I didn’t hear bad things about my

mother from her.

I came up with those all on my own.

“My grandma’s the best,” I said and I meant it. “She’s

not all warm and fuzzy, not like most grandmas are. But

she gave up so much to take care of me.” I shook my head

as I was hit by the sheer scope of her sacrifice. “So much.”

“Well, looks to me like she did a great job.” Elena’s

smile was genuine and I felt my cheeks warm.

“anks. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing

a great job with Max, especially since I suspect you’re

doing most of it single-handedly. It can’t be easy.”

“It isn’t.” She stared off into the middle distance as she

spoke, her voice soft and full of emotion. “You know,

sometimes I wish that Cindy would just go away. at

she’d just stop showing up altogether. Isn’t that terrible?

at I’d wish one of my son’s parents to just vanish? But

she disappoints him so often…so, so often. How many

times can I assure him it’s not his fault before he stops

believing me? He’s such a sensitive kid. And I wish he

wasn’t. Sometimes, I really wish he’d just toughen up so she

can’t hurt him so easily.” Anguished eyes turned on me,

shimmering with moisture. “What kind of mother wishes

for her child to be cold and unfeeling?”

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“A mother who wants to protect that child,” I said

with conviction. “All of the things you want are the things

that might be best for him. at’s what moms do; they

want the best for their kids. And you know what, Elena?

Max is a great kid. He’s sweet and he’s gentle and he’s

kind. And he learned all those things from you.”

A transformation happened then, as I watched Elena

collect herself and blink away the wetness in her chocolate

brown eyes. Right in front of me, in an instant, she went

from being a simple crush to being a woman I might like

to have something with in the future. Something new and

intense and wonderful.

It scared the hell out of me.

“You’re sweet,” she said, obviously unaware of what I’d

just witnessed, seeming not to notice the slight trembling

of my hand as I finished off my wine. “ank you. I needed

that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He likes you a lot, you know. It’s always, ‘Coach King

this,’ and ‘Coach King that.’”

“He may like me, but he
loves
my dog.”

Her sharp guffaw startled me, but I was getting used

to it. “He certainly does. As long as you stay close by, I

won’t need to get him his own.” e realization of what

she’d said hit her then and she busied herself by looking at

her watch. “Wow.”

Leaning close—I couldn’t help myself—I looked at

her watch, too. It was after ten. “Wow is right. I had no

idea we’d been here for so long.”

Her eyes met mine as we sat with our heads only a few

inches apart. “Early game tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.”

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A slow smile made its way onto her face and it looked

to me like she regretted pulling away as she turned to

signal Jeff. I had honestly never seen a sexier woman in my

entire life and my whole body began to tingle, like little

fingertips were playing over my skin.

We fought good-naturedly over the bill, finally

agreeing on an even split. We left Jeff a generous tip and

headed out into the Friday night dark.

Smells from the restaurant’s kitchen were beginning

to dissipate in the air outside, a hint of garlic here, the

slight scent of sautéed onions there, mixing in with the

cool flavor of the night. We strolled slowly to the parking

lot where our cars were parked three spaces from one

another. My Jetta came first and I slowed to indicate it was

mine. Elena followed me to the driver’s side door; I could

feel her behind me.

“I had such a good time tonight, Elena,” I said,

turning to face her. It was all I got out before she kissed

me.

My brain registered everything at once—her gentle

hands cradling my face, her body pressing me back against

the car, the way our height difference made me feel

deliciously trapped between Elena’s body and my

Volkswagen, the softness of her lips on mine, the tang of

wine still clinging to her mouth—and I had to focus hard

to keep f rom being completel y over whelmed.

Overwhelmed, but in a good way. I wanted to remember

everything I could about my first kiss with Elena Walker

because I was sure it wouldn’t be my last.

It wasn’t a demanding kiss, but one of promise, of

anticipation. One that was equal parts gentle and insistent.

My hands came up to settle on her waist, to pull her hips

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closer to mine, then to slide up under her suit jacket and

feel the smoothly planed muscles of her back beneath the

silk of her blouse.

I wanted more and I wanted to slow things down,

both at the same time, and I somehow knew that Elena

felt the same way. I allowed her to deepen our kiss for

several long seconds, relishing the taste and feel of her

tongue as it touched mine, before I brought my hands

around to her chest and wrenched our mouths apart as

gently as I could. One of us whimpered, but I wasn’t sure

which, and we stood there in the dark with our foreheads