* * *
When I got home, I heard my mom in the kitchen. I looked at Patrick and dreaded going in there. I wasn’t worried about how she’d treat me like some five-year-old around him. She had done that before. It was embarrassing, mortifying, but he never treated me that way or made me feel bad about it. So, while I didn’t look forward to it, I knew he wouldn’t be surprised when it happened. Life was just so much more tolerable when I didn’t have to deal with my parents. I rarely left the room feeling remotely adequate. In fact, I usually left feeling like I was being punished and wanting to escape. I tried not to let it bother me—that’s just how my parents were. It didn’t always work.
We entered the kitchen. My mom was at the kitchen table making egg rolls.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Elizabeth.” She turned and saw Patrick with me. “Oh, hello, Patrick.” She got up and washed her hands.
He walked over and shook her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Mariposa. It’s nice to see you again.”
“You, too. Did you get all your shopping done?”
“Yes, thanks to Liz.”
“Well, that’s good.” She went back to the table and sat down. “Elizabeth, can you get me another tray for the egg rolls?”
I nodded and went to the cabinet which held the serving dishes and trays. I knew the tray she wanted. Of course, it had to be on one of the top shelves. I pulled out the step stool we kept in the kitchen. I hate being vertically challenged. If only I was four inches taller…
Patrick came over and stopped me from setting up the stool. He chuckled. “Which one do you want?”
I pointed to one my mom wanted. He got it down and handed it to me. “Thanks.” I put it on the table next to my mom. “Here you go.”
“Elizabeth tells me that you and your crew helped with the tree and decorations.” She looked directly at Patrick.
I could only wish that she wouldn’t tell her nit-picky problems with the décor. It was bad enough that she made me feel like I didn’t do things right, I didn’t want her to do that to Patrick or the crew. “Mom…”
She ignored me. What’s new? “That was nice of you to help and look out for her.” She seemed sincere about it. Wow.
“We had fun helping. Anytime, Mrs. Mariposa.” Patrick had such an easy-going demeanor about him. “Do you need some help?”
“Sure.” My mom handed him an egg roll wrapper and he sat down at the table. She showed him how to stuff and roll it. “I have to make six dozen Shanghai and vegetable egg rolls.”
The three of us sat at the kitchen table making egg rolls. In what weird universe did I step into? I never thought I’d sit at the table, making egg rolls, having a pleasant conversation with my mom and best friend. Okay, I wasn’t really in on it, but Patrick and my mom had a nice, polite and comfortable chat. They talked about his family’s Christmas plans and he extended an invitation from his parents for me and them to come by. Of course, my mom politely declined, but told him that maybe I would stop by. Then the topic of what else he’d be doing over break came up. I nervously took a deep breath. My mom didn’t notice, but Patrick did.
“Actually, Mrs. Mariposa, we’re going to Disneyland next week.” He told her. “The crew and I always go over winter break.”
“Yeah? That’s nice that you and your friends spend time together like that.” She seemed to still be in a good mood. The conversation was still light. “You guys go often?”
“Couple times a year.” He looked at me and I knew it was time for me to speak up or he would.
“I remember Disneyland.” My mom told him.
What? How has she gone there, but I haven’t?
“When Mr. Mariposa and I came to the States, we flew into LAX. We had some family that lived in LA. We went to Disneyland. I remember having so much fun.”
Really? What the heck?
“I’m sure it’s a lot bigger now.” She looked wistful, thinking of her memories.
I cleared my throat. “So, Mom, can I go? To Disneyland?”
It was like a switch flipped. She was back to the hypercritical mom I knew. Her eyes squinted at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” At least she tried to keep her voice even because Patrick was there. “That’s not a place I want you going to by yourself. Something could happen just on the drive there. You’d find trouble.”
“But…” I stammered. “I wouldn’t go alone. I’d be with the crew.” I couldn’t take her stare anymore. I looked down at the tray of egg rolls.
“Is that true?” She looked curiously at Patrick.
“Yes. She’s part of the crew. We were all hoping she’d be able to come.”
“And you’re going?” She asked him, even though she knew the answer. He had just told her, not even five minutes ago.
Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow me whole? Better yet, couldn’t I just be vaporized?
“Yes.” He politely reiterated. “I’m driving.”
I snuck a peek at my mom’s face. It had changed back to being pleasant, like it was when we were first working on the egg rolls. “Oh, that’s fine then.” She turned back to face me. “Sure, Elizabeth, you can go. Since Patrick will be there.”
What? I got whiplash from the 180 degree turn my mom did. So, apparently, if Patrick was with me, everything was okay. She didn’t trust me, but she trusted him. It stung, but I was really glad that she did. Otherwise, life would really suck and I’d be truly alone. The truth was I trusted him more than I trusted myself most of the time.
We finished the rest of the egg rolls and packaged them up to store in the freezer. My mom invited him to come over Christmas Eve. I was shocked. She always said it was just family. He was probably the kid they always wanted. That’s fine. His parents were the parents I always wanted. But I wouldn’t wish my parents on anyone. Okay, except for those that I really hated, like Becca. I was expecting my mom to yell at me for putting her on the spot after Patrick left. She didn’t. Wow. It was a Christmas miracle.
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