Lunch with Mother
“Sit up straight. My goodness. You’d think I raised a wild animal.” Ari held the sides of her chair and slid upwards. She searched the air for a distraction as her mother continued, “I spoke with the Dean. He tells me that you are doing well. I imagine to appease me of course. Pandering for another donation, no doubt. Nonetheless, I am assured you are on track to graduate.”
Ari bit her lip. Her feet tapped lightly against the plush carpet of the elite cafe. She looked through her mother and roamed the tables across the busy restaurant. Finding no allies in any of the unfamiliar faces, Ari focused on the drab paintings adorning the heavy wallpaper coated walls.
“Here you are ladies.” Ginny brought her bright smile to the table along with their entrees.
Ari forced a tight-lipped smile as Ginny sat the warm plate of roasted salmon and fennel before her. Miranda sat her phone on the table and scrolled through e-mails as she punched her fork at her Penrose Caesar salad.
“Anything else I can get you two?”
“Not at the moment, Ginny, dear.” Miranda made no attempt to look up from her smartphone. “I have decided to have a commencement dinner after the ceremony.” Miranda stated.
“Ceremony?” Ari asked.
“Your graduation ceremony. You do still intend to graduate, correct?”
“Of course, I do.”
“God knows it’s taken long enough.”
“Mother,” Ari’s foot stopped moving. She released her lip from between her teeth with a sigh. She avoided impulse was to stand. She conceded to stay put. “Please.”
“What?” Miranda reared back in her seat. Her hands stretched upward, her shoulders straight, her gaze firm. “I want the opportunity to be proud of something in your lifetime, Arica. Isn’t that a mother’s right?”
Ari looked at her plate of half-eaten, overpriced food. She couldn’t decide which she hated more, the pretentious cuisine or the debasing conversation.
“It’s only taken you seven years to get this far. I shudder to think how far we still have to go.”
“Have to go?” Ari looked up abruptly.
“Well, yes. Laborers have bachelor’s degrees, dear. My child is certainly no laborer. I’ve already approved a list of grad schools. If you can manage to stay afloat then we will look into a juris doctorate.”
“Juris doctorate?”
“Yes. It’s a –“
“I know what it is, mother. Why would I need one? I have no desire to practice law.”
“Who said anything about desire? This is about your future. You need the appropriate credentials in order to navigate the political world.”
“The political world? Mother, slow down.” The air was being knocked out of Ari’s body. She was a stellar student despite her mother’s concerns. Finishing school hadn’t been nearly as difficult as actually starting.
Miranda pulled back from the chair. Bouncing a calculating eye over the crowd, searching from face to face. She patted the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin and leaned in. “I’m sorry, Arica. Is this yet another thing you would like to put off until later? I swear you have no sense of consequences.”
Ari gripped the ends of the square table as if bracing herself for a fall. Her eyes moved back and forth from her mother to her plate. She felt her insides heat up like a slow, thick cheap shot of whiskey was slithering down her insides.
“I have tolerated you wasting enough of your life. You’re quickly approaching 30 and it is time for you to get serious about the face you present to the world.” Miranda consented to pause. Ari tightened her grip on the table.
“You’re unmarried first and foremost,” Miranda folded into her words. Ari couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was get on her relationship. “You’re uneducated. You have no formal training. The money you have is because of the trust I set up for you.”
“You mean you and dad, don’t you?” Ari haphazardly interjected.
“The trust that I set up for you.” Miranda continued. “You have no job.”
“You know that I,” Ari paused to catch her words, “volunteer at the center.”
“You have no job.” Miranda repeated. “You have no prospects and no connections. What would you do if I weren’t here to take care of you?”
“I’d survive, mother.” Ari consigned. She felt the sting threatening the back of her eyes. She couldn’t. There was no way she could let her emotions invade the moment. She closed her eyes letting the sound of her mother’s voice dim behind her backwards count from ten.
“What kind of life is that for my child?” Miranda said jerking haughtily to emphasize her point.
Ari made her way from ten down to one. She opened her eyes feeling six years old again watching her mother in court giving closing arguments, overwhelming the jury with her presence. There were words she wanted to speak but found nothing but dryness. The ability to turn her thoughts into words seemed to run from her like water from a faucet.
Ari leaned back, snapping away from the grip she held on the table. She took the napkin draped over her custom jeans and wiped her sweaty palms. Overwhelmed by a thick haze of exhaustion, Ari felt herself deflate as the Senator continued.
“You need to get your act together. Have you looked into any grad-schools?”
“No.” Ari cleared her throat.
“Of course you haven’t. Senator Hatchins…” Miranda waved Ari off as she answered a call. “No, it was supposed to be non-germane.” She placed a hand over the edge of her iPhone, “I almost forgot. I need you to deliver a case file for me.”
The Senator riffled through her packed briefcase. Ari took a deep breath watching her mother yank around manila folders buried under yellow legal pads and a black tablet.
“Hold on just a moment, Thomas.” Miranda sat her phone screen down on the table. She tugged at a stubborn orange folder that sent most of the contents of the case flying to the floor as it finally came free.
Ginny rushed over helping to gather the strewn items. The Senator took a deep breath, leaning down to collect a group of pens, a small wooden figurine, two moleskine notebooks, and three highlighters. She returned everything to their rightful place inside her briefcase, including the manila folders. She picked up the phone, where her assistant waited patiently, “one more moment, Thomas.” Miranda handed Ari the sealed orange folder.
“Where am I delivering this?” Ari asked annoyed.
“I need you to hand-deliver this file to Edwards & Associates?”
“Mother! You know very well I am not doing that.” Ari felt the wind knock pass her as she found her voice.
“You most certainly will. And, watch your tone. This is very important. Unlike your little tiff with Laurin.”
“Tiff? Tiff, Mother?”
“That’s the problem. You’re too controlled by your emotions. I need this done immediately. I have no time for your nonsense.”
“Why can’t you email whatever it is you need them to have?” Ari froze as if awaiting test results.
Ginny began clearing the table seemingly unaffected by the bickering between her two regular customers.
“Arica Hatchins,” Miranda closed her briefcase. “Get this over there within the hour.” Ignoring Ari’s question, she continued. “Also, expect a full list of grad schools by this evening. Don’t worry, that, I will email.”
Miranda pulled a black card from her wallet. She laid it over the ticket sitting on the freshly-cleared table. “Make sure you give Ginny a good tip.” She retrieved her phone. “My apologies, Thomas. Continue. ”
Ari sat quietly in a numbing pool of resentment as her mother exited Amourèuse Café.
“Survived to see another day, I see?” Ginny teased.
Ari gave her a sincere half-smile. She handed over the American Express donning Senator Miranda Hatchins.
“Just give yourself a tip.” Ari said.
Ginny nodded, unsurprised.
“Be back in a second. Cheer up. She looked to be in almost a good mood today.”
“Almost.”
Ari’s stomach seemed to expand and drop in a slow and painful loop. She didn’t want to be a disappointment but she did want to find a clear path between making her mother proud and figuring out her own happiness. As graduation was quickly approaching, she conceded to her mother’s accuracy. She had had a late start and sh was certainly playing against the clock.
The Senator lived her life in the public eye. She had accumulated her wealth, and subsequently Ari’s life of opportunity, by being the best – at all times without question. Ari knew it was selfish of her to think only of what she wanted. Even though, she had no idea what such a life was supposed to look like.
“Here you go.” Ginny laid the receipt and a blue metallic pen with a paintbrush taped to the handle on the table.
“You and this damn pen, Chica.” Ari grinned.
She signed the slip with her extravagant, almost calligraphic, handwriting. She looked over the receipt for accuracy, turning the one into a two where Ginny had written in a fifteen-dollar tip. Ginny nodded an agreeable thank you, took the receipt in hand, and stuffed her blue metallic pen back in her white buttoned-down shirt pocket.
“See you next week?” Ginny asked.
“Hopefully not.”
Ari stood from the table looking down at the orange folder she was to deliver. She felt the anger fighting to make its way to the surface. She took in a deep breath and paused in the moment. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. She swept the packet off the table. Five. Four. Three. She placed her mother’s card in her back pocket and headed for the door. Two. As the sunlight hit her face standing on the sidewalk outside the café, Ari closed her eyes and exhaled. One.
