Just before dinner, Lyndsay knocks on the front door. The second I open it, she bursts in. She is wearing her professional outfit: gray slacks along with a white button down. She says, “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I got the job!” she squeals with a big smile.
“Of course you did.”
She frowns. “Where’s the enthusiasm?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” I give her a squeeze. “I really am very happy for you.”
“Thanks. I would have been here earlier but I had some forms to fill out. Then I had to talk with the manager about my schedule. I start next Tuesday.”
“That’s cool.”
“So, what did you want to talk about?” She pauses and whispers, “Did last night not go over well?”
I glance over at the kitchen where my mom is. “It…everything went fine.”
She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. “Oh, good. I was worried something wouldn’t go according to plan.”
“Actually…” I start to say when my mom walks into the room.
She stops mid-walk. “Oh, hello sweetie.”
“Hi, Aunt Joy! Guess what? I got a job at The Community Market.”
My mom’s eyebrows rise. “A job?”
“Yup. It sounds like they might need someone else too, since I can only take on a couple days. So that’s good news.”
I freeze. Oh no. I open my mouth to change the subject but my mom beats me. “Good news?” she asks with a wary glance in my direction.
“For Adrienne.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we were talking last night,” Lyndsay begins.
“About the job opening,” I interrupt. “You see, Lynds thought it would be a good idea for me to apply too. That way I could pay for more things on my own. I considered it for a minute but decided that it would be too much for me to do along with the volunteer work.”
Lyndsay stares at me dumbfounded. “Wha-huh?”
My mom nods. “That’s a wise decision, Adrienne. Maybe once you see how you handle your classes in the fall you can look into a part-time job in the spring.” She turns to Lyndsay. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, dear. It’s all set, so come on in.” She walks back to the kitchen.
I heave a sigh of relief. “That was close.”
Lyndsay grabs at my arm. “I thought you talked to her.”
I put my hands over my face. “I was going to but I just couldn’t.”
“But you’re going to tell her?”
“Eventually…”
“What do you mean eventually?”
I touch her arm. “I can explain more after we eat. Just…pretend I’m still going for now. Please?”
“Okay, but only because you asked so politely.”
Later on in my room, I tell her all about my idea. She sits there silently as I talk. Then her forehead wrinkles and she finally says, “You know I’m willing to support you in your crazy endeavors. Even though I don’t think it is a good idea, I can’t tell you what to do. The problem is going to be getting my mom on board.”
“That’s the part I was most concerned with. The last thing I want is any more trouble between her and my mom. The bottom line is that this is my decision. If my mom wants to blame someone, it will have to be me, whether she likes it or not.”
Lyndsay puts her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll find a way to convince her.” She stands up, reaches into her pants pocket, and makes a face. “Drat. There’s a hole in this pocket.”
“Did you lose something?”
“No, I was reaching for my phone, but I realized I put it in my purse. Good thing I did apparently.” She feels it again. “Ugh. I don’t want to fix it but I will need these for work.”
I go to my dresser. “I can do it. Just leave them.” I hold out a pair of jeans. “Here. Change into these. I’ll have that pocket fixed by tomorrow.”
She hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s no problem.” The more projects I have to do, the better. Plus, I can brush up on my sewing skills. It has been at least a year since I've had to mend anything.
After she leaves, I pull out the sewing kit from my closet and get to work. It doesn’t take me long to fix it. I wish it took longer because I need something to distract me. I keep thinking about tomorrow and everything surrounding my decision. There is so much that is wrong with what I am doing. Yet the idea of being honest brings back memories I'd sooner forget than relive. What am I going to do?
Chapter Nine
Wednesday, June 6th
Sleep eludes me most of the night. When I get to Lyndsay’s, I'm thankful I have nowhere to be so I can take a quick nap. Faith, as I expected, wasn’t too keen about me not telling my mom the truth. She did agree that I should take some time to find out what I want from life.
“In fact,” she says. “It might not be a bad idea to take a semester off.”
I straighten up. “I couldn’t do that.” Taking a semester off would be worse than taking the summer off.
“Why not?”
“I need to at least be going to college, even if it’s not the career my mom wants.”
“Do you know what you want to do?” she asks.
I slump down in my chair. “No,” I say, dragging out the word.
“Just think about it. You don’t want to rush into something else and regret it.”
What she says resonates with me. I spent my high school years preparing for a career I didn’t want in the first place. It would be less than useless for me to jump into something else just to go to college. I need to know what I want before I proceed. Right now, I have no idea what I want. It's all for the best since I would have to sign up for classes in the next couple of weeks to get in.
I spend the morning browsing the internet for career suggestions to no avail. Instead of spending the afternoon getting the same results, I organize their books by author and movies by title. When I finish, the living room feels cleaner, but I am still at a loss as far as what to do with myself. I keep on organizing until Lyndsay comes back.
She stares at the room. “What are you doing to my house?”
“Organizing,” I say as I transfer magazines from the coffee table to the magazine rack.
“You are officially crazy.”
“What makes you the judge of that?”
“Uh, the fact that I’m not crazy, that’s what.”
I stand up with my hands on my hips. “The fact that you think you can say that while being part of this family makes you the crazy one.”
“Let's call it a tie.” She sits down on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table.
I sit next to her. “I say rematch.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “I'd ask you how the career search went today but I have a feeling I already know the answer.”
“Yeah. I'm still completely lost there.” And probably will be for a while.
“I forgot to ask you this morning: did you take care of my pants?”
I jump up off the couch. “Oh! I left them in my car.” I run out and come back in with them. “Here you go.”
She reaches in the pocket. “Wow. I can’t even tell the difference from when I bought these.”
I make a face. “You exaggerate.”
She shakes her head. “Really, I can’t.” Her face lights up. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“You can do this,” she says, holding up her pants to me.
“Sewing? I can’t make a career out of sewing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not just sewing. Mending, hemming, quilting… Ooh! You could design clothes!”