Bro Code(34)

I blink back into reality to find my mother trying to get my attention from across the table, waving her hands slowly through the air.

“Hi, sorry,” I grumble, taking another sip of coffee. “Guess I’m not quite awake yet.”

From the way she furrows her brow, it’s obvious that Mom isn’t buying that. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks, pulling out the chair next to mine and settling in. I’m definitely not in the mood to talk, but that’s never stopped her before.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worn out from the weekend.” Suddenly, I’m deeply interested in my cuticles. Fascinating little things. Or maybe it's just that I don't want Mom to see what's really on my mind.

“Well, as long as you're here, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

I roll my shoulders back and brace myself. “What’s going on, Mom?”

“Well,” she sighs, “it’s about the factory.”

I’m uncertain whether I’m relieved that we’re not about to talk about Barrett or exhausted to be having yet another conversation about this.

“There’s nothing to talk about with the factory, Mom.” I scoot my chair back to get up in a last-ditch effort to dodge this topic, but she lays her hand over mine, squeezing tight.

“Ava, please. Just listen for a minute.”

How can I say no to my own mother?

I sit back down.

“First, we’re really proud of you for coming and filling your father’s shoes. Really. But I’ve been giving it some thought and the whole thing is really unfair to you. You shouldn’t be living here with us and putting your life on hold just for the sake of a factory that would probably be worth more if you just sold it.”

I let out a groan that’s been building in the back of my throat since she sat down. “Mom, not you too. You’ve been talking to Nick, haven’t you?”

“Well, he makes some good points,” she admits. “He just wants to see you happy. We all do. I mean, giving up your own apartment and your job just for a family business that might not even make it? It’s just not fair to you, sweetie. You should be out living a life of your own, starting a family of your own.”

“And I will. You know that starting a family isn't on my list right now, Mom.”

“That’s not how falling in love works, Ava.” Mom has shifted into her infamous lecturing voice. “It's not something you put on a list. It happens at the right time when you open yourself up to it. You can’t do that if you’re living at home and trying to hold together a failing factory. You can’t just decide when you’re going to cross love off your to-do list.”

“Well, right now that’s how it has to be.” I can hear the anger building in the tightness of my voice. I’ve never yelled at my mother, and I’m not about to start now. I try again, calmer, quieter. “It can’t be a priority right now when there are other things that need to come first.”

The kitchen is silent for a moment as Mom rests her head in her hands, gathering herself with a few deep sighs.

“He called and asked for you, you know.”

I freeze mid-sip of coffee. She lifts her head just enough that I can see the slightest smile creep across her mouth. It’s enough for me to worry she’s talking about who I secretly want her to be talking about.

“Who?”

Maybe it’s not him. Don't get your hopes up.

“Barrett.”

I bite down hard on my bottom lip to steel my nerves. Of course, it's harder to cover up the sound of my heart knocking against the inside of my chest. After a long pause, Mom offers up a bit more context to fill the silence.

“He called yesterday on his drive back, wanted to thank us for letting him stay, and inviting him to the party and all. Then he asked if he could talk to you. I went ahead and gave him your cell phone number.”

“Why would you do that?” Apparently, biting my lip only does so much for keeping my mouth shut. Mom chuckles a little under her breath.

“Oh Ava, honey, you don’t have to bother with pretending. I’m your mother, for heaven's sake. I see the way you’ve looked at Barrett since you were in middle school. You had that same look in your eyes all weekend.”

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this, Mom. You should be mad at me.”

“Mad? Why? Barrett’s a good man. A great man.”

“Sure, a great man who also happens to be Nick’s best friend.”

“So?” She looks genuinely confused. Does she really not get it?

“So, Nick would be furious. Which is why things have to end here.”

I jump to my feet and snatch my coat from the back of the chair, making it clear that this conversation is over.

“I need to get to work,” I call out over my shoulder as I pull on my boots and fling open the front door. I don’t care that I'm an hour early; I need to get out of this house. You don’t run a successful business by sitting at the kitchen table arguing with your mother over the things you can’t have.

This time, when I put my key in the ignition, my car whirs to a start without a single stutter. I mentally thank whatever powers of the universe that are in charge of car troubles for showing me a little mercy. God knows I’m not going to catch a break anywhere else today.