Darling we, found love, right now

When I get home, I go straight to my bedroom and call Elaine. Elaine Kim moved to our neighborhood last December. Everyone wanted to be her best friend because she was new and from New York City, but she chose me.
I say, “Elaine, I have some news.”
“What?” she says, and I can hear the TV in the background.
I pause. “I think I’m in love … with Tony.”
“Yeah, I know,” Elaine says. I can tell she is watching TV and not paying attention to me, and I am annoyed.
“I said, I think I’m in love with Tony,” I snap.
“I said, I know!” Elaine snaps right back. I love that about her.
“How did you know? You couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know.”
“Come on, Annemarie. I’m your best friend. I know stuff about you that nobody knows, not even you.”
“But how did you know?”
“Because it’s a total cliché; of course you like Tony. He’s the boy next door, the boy you’ll measure every other boy against. It was only a matter of time.” Just because Elaine’s father is a psychiatrist, she thinks she knows everything.
“Tony doesn’t live next door,” I mutter.
“Down the street, whatever. Same thing.”
“Okay fine, if you know so much, what am I going to do about it?”
“What are you going to do?” she repeats. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I want him to like me back. I want him to look at me the way he looks at Celia,” I say, lying back on my pillow and staring at the ceiling. There is a massive spiderweb in one corner.
“Hmm, that could be hard. Celia has, like, actual breasts, remember?”
“No, I forgot, but thank you for reminding me.”
Elaine decides that I should talk to my mother. According to her, while other mothers are clueless, mine understands these sorts of things. Elaine idolizes my mother, maybe because hers is so unlike mine. She is the only one of my friends Mama can stand, because she is from New York and because Mama thinks she has “moxie.” But I think it’s because Elaine acts like Mama is a movie star, and Mama loves it when people are smart enough to know she is something special.
I know better than to ask Mama about Mark because I know exactly what she will say. She will say that Tony is sweet in a prosaic sort of way, but I can do better because I am extraordinary. And then I’ll start to think that maybe Tony really is sort of prosaic, and I’ll never be able to see him in the same way ever again.
I don’t tell Elaine this though. I like the way Elaine looks at Mama. I wish I still looked at Mama that way. Sometimes I do, but it’s getting harder and harder.
Even though Mama messed up that one time I told her about Sherwood Brown, that doesn’t mean she won’t come through this time. You never know. People can surprise you. And I mean, life is all about second chances, right?
After Elaine and I hang up, I go to Mama’s room.
My mother is reading in bed, with her feet propped up on a silk pillow. It is turquoise with little orange tassels. “Shug, don’t slouch,” she says, not lifting her eyes from the page.
I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of the bed, at her feet. “Mama, when’s dinner?” I ask. I know full well she hasn’t cooked any.
She looks up, surprised. “You know your daddy’s away on business, and your sister’s at Margaret’s, so I didn’t bother with dinner. You fix something up for yourself; I’m not hungry.”
“Mama!”
“What?” she says absentmindedly. She reaches for the wineglass on her nightstand and turns the page of her book.
“Mama, I need to talk to you. I need some advice.”
Mama takes a long sip of wine. “Okay, Shug,” she says. “You have my complete and undivided attention. What’s going on?”
“Well, the thing is, I like someone. A boy,” I say. “But I don’t think he likes me.”
Mama nods. “Who is this boy?”
I hesitate. “Mama, you can’t tell anyone.”
“All right.”
“You have to promise, Mama.”
“I promise. I shan’t tell a soul.” She crosses her heart.
“Well, okay. It’s Tony.” I watch her hopefully.
Mama finishes her wine, and says, “Tony Perry … Hmm … yes, he is a charming boy.”
Hope begins to flutter in my chest like a little bird. See, all she needed was that second chance. Mama knows all about men, maybe she really could help me decide what to do.
“But, Shug, I sure hope your babies take after our side of the family and not his. His mama is just as common as coal.” She winks at me and goes back to her book.
Sometimes I hate my mother so much I can’t breathe.
“At least Mrs. Perry makes dinner,” I spit out.
“Why, Miss Annemarie, are you mad at me?” She’s mocking me, and it only makes me madder.
“You’re just jealous of Mrs. Perry; that’s why you say ugly things about her. And coal isn’t common. It’s a precious resource.”
“Shug, I was only joking. You know I’ve always been fond of Tony, and I think his mama is really very sweet,” Mama says. “If you want Tony, you go and get him. I didn’t raise my daughters to be pacifists. Make love or make war, Shug, but make somethin’ happen. And you’ve got hands; you can fix your own dinner.”
“Fine!” I leap off the bed and storm out.
As I stomp down the stairs, as loudly as bare feet on carpet will allow, I hear my mother call, “Love you too, baby mine.”
My mother has never forgiven Mrs. Perry for being the kind of mother I have always wished for.

Notes