WANTED: Love of my Life

25. Varying Weekend

“By the way, honey,” my mother said next morning at the breakfast table. “I've been meaning to ask: who's this remarkable tutor you've been going to?”

I had been half asleep up to that moment, not, understandably, having gotten a lot of sleep last night. My mother's question made me nearly swallow my spoon along with my cereal. A very effective method of rousing. I coughed, not because I felt the need to, but to give me a few precious seconds time to think.

“Em... a friend of father Elliot's. You know, the guy that runs the homeless shelter?”

What are you looking at me like that for? It wasn't a lie, after all, not technically at least. Remember the 'Thanks for coming again, my children, my friends'?” Well, okay, I admit it. A flimsy excuse. My parents' beaming faces told me I'd chosen the right answer, though.

“That's so nice. What's his name?”

“G- Gilbert.” Yes! My mom was in heaven, I could see it. Definitely the right answer.

“When can we meet him?” my dad wanted to know.

Scratch that.

“Meet him?!” My knuckles went white as I clutched my spoon like a life line. “I don't know.. don't know whether that's possible. He's very busy, you know. Tutoring, helping people...”

...snogging your daughter.

“Yes, but we must thank...”

At that moment, Cathy sauntered into the room, yawning loudly and interrupting my dad. Amazing. I was actually glad to see my sister. If I had calendar, I would have marked the day red.

She got herself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table. No one said a word about her being late for the traditional MacAllen Saturday breakfast or about her not saying grace. Neither of my parents ever criticized her. Not Cathy, not Miss Cheerleader-with-perfect-grades. I scowled, thinking of what had happened the one time I hadn't said Grace before a meal. Then, my scowl slowly turned into a smile as I remembered Giacomo asking what a Cheerleader was.

My mother was smiling, too. Breakfast was her favorite meal of the day – since it was the only one she wasn't forced to prepare by her idea of the perfect housewife. Whether my father was smiling or not was hard to determine. He was hidden behind his paper, making appreciative noises now and then – either because of his breakfast or because of the news, I didn't know. I supposed it was breakfast, though. The current government was run by a Democrat, after all.

After breakfast, we all meekly folded our hands, and went: “Thank thee, O Lord...”

You should be pretty familiar with the rest by now.

“So,” my mother asked us brightly when we were finished and she had started to clean the already immaculate table. “What are your plans for today?”

Immediately I thought of Giacomo. But no – we couldn't meet in broad daylight. What if someone saw us? And what would I tell my parents about where I was going? Anyway, I had no way of contacting him. Stunned, I realized that our whole relationship relied on him showing up at the shelter the next evening. I didn't like that very much. But it wasn't as if I could ask him for his phone number. He probably didn't have the few cents for a call from a pay phone, let alone the ready cash to buy a cellphone.

As I was still considering my options, my sister said with the sweetest of smiles:

“I think I'm gonna go to Melinda's. She said she wanted to hang out.”

Or in other words, they planned to go shopping and let their rich boyfriends buy them clothes they couldn't afford themselves or, as in Cathy's case, were too frivolous for their parent's tastes.