Page 14 of Season's Schemings
Anyhow, it was a much more entertaining event than expected. And the Cyclones won the game, thanks to Seb’s incredible last-minute goal. That man’s focus is like a laser beam when he’s out there on the ice. I might not be a hockey fan, but evenIcould tell how good he is. How much his head is in the game when he plays.
He scored at the exact moment my mother called me for the fifth time in a row. I may or may not have jumped up from my seat and cheered (because it’s part of my job, of course) as I answered, because clearly Mother Dearest was hellbent on ignoring my “I’ll call you after the game” texts.
Needless to say, I couldn’t hear a thing over the noise in the arena. And now that the game is done and I’m outside, I know that I should call her back… but I’m enjoying a few moments of happy solitude first.
Thanksgiving has been great. Maybe my first Christmas in years as a singleton won’t be so bad, either.
Adam who?
As if on cue, my phone rings, popping my little bliss bubble.
I wince, take a deep, gulping breath in, then answer. “Hello?”
“There you are, Madelyn.” My mother’s voice is sharp. Not unlike the screech of skates coming to a quick stop. “And at a normal decibel level. Finally. First, you abandon your family to jet off to Vegas for Thanksgiving, and then you add insult to injury by screaming at me like a banshee.”
“I didn’t ‘jet off.’”
“You took a jet, did you not?”
Serves me right for telling my family about the team plane.I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “I’m here for work, Mom. And I was at the game when you called. It was loud.”
“Well what did you expect, being somewhere as uncouth as an ice hockey arena.” Mom sniffs.
I shake my head and jump on a subject change. “How's your holiday going, Mom? Are you and Richard having a nice day?”
First rule of handling my Mother Dearest: when in doubt, make the conversation abouther.
“I’m having a lovely day, actually.” Mom surprises me by saying. I was expecting another guilt trip. “After you decided to abandon us for Vegas, Jaxon canceled too and took off to the mountains for the weekend. Said he was going on one of his strange wilderness survival thingies to do… whatever he does out there.”
“You mean, he went on a backcountry camping trip?” I supply as I step around a couple taking selfies on the street.
Mom tuts. “It’s not good for a man to spend all that alone time without a female body to keep him warm.”
“Mom. Gross!”
“I’m just saying. That brother of yours needs a good wife so he can stop taking off on these strange little adventures.”
“Backpacking is a pretty normal hobby for those who are outdoors inclined.”
i.e. Not me.
“I would never go so far as to call such a thingnormal, Madelyn.” Mom is silent for a moment and I picture her shaking her head and sighing about her wayward children. “Anyhow, your father and I are effectively childless for the holidays, so I thought it was hardly worth making a turkey dinner for two people. Especially with your father’s cholesterol…”
“Mmm,” I hum in noncommittal agreement as I’m momentarily distracted by an array of showgirls walking past, waving their feathered costumes like they’re exotic birds.
“So we ended up having a delicious lunch at the Plumlees. I wish we could’ve stayed longer, but you know how your father feels about footba—”
I tune back in. “Wait, what? You wentwheretoday?”
Mom lets out an exasperated sigh. “Keep up, Madelyn. We were at the Plumlee’s house. You know that Alicia always puts out quite the spread.”
Yes, I do know.
“Mom, why on earth did you go over to the Plumlees?”
“Well. Just because Adam and you have parted ways doesn’t mean that we can’t honor tradition. When you said you weren’t coming, this felt like a natural solution.” Mom says this with finality. Like no further explanation could possibly be warranted. Then, she goes on to twist the knife a little. “Elizabeth was there with Adam, you know. Such aglamorouswoman. Very well put together. She was wearing this positively striking cream pantsuit, and I had to ask where she got it. She told me—”
“Mom, why are you telling me this?” I interrupt, a little irked by all the singing-of-Elizabeth’s-praises.