The Cherry Blossom Tree

Cherry Chapter Twelve

True to London’s word, I found the post shop around the corner.  A sales assistant led me right to a prepacked bundle of school accessories, and I was just walking out when my phone rang in my back pocket.  It was a serious juggle to free one of my hands so I could answer it, and I nearly took too long.

I caught the call just before it went to voicemail, managing to choke out a breathless hello.

“Kaitlynn, honey, where are you?”

It was Mom.  Her interview must have just ended.  Given she wasn’t spitting mad or hiccupping through a wave of tears, I took this as a good sign.  I let her know I was on my way back from Bourbon Street, and we agreed to meet at Pat’s Place for an early lunch.  Despite having already devoured a muffin, I decided I was quite hungry.

Passing Pat’s Place to put my things in the car, I doubled back and found Mom sitting at a booth by the window.  She was nursing a coke, and staring into space.  She was so lost in thought that she jerked in surprise when I slid in opposite her.

“So, how did it go?” I asked without preamble.  Her lack of expression was making me antsy.

“I got the job,” she said, staring at me in a daze.  “He gave me the job on the spot.  I start Wednesday.”

“Oh, my God!” I shrieked, reaching across the table to clasp her hands.  “That’s great news.  It is, right?”

She wasn’t as enthusiastic over her success as I’d predicted she would be.  That in itself was worrying.  Was she happy?  I mean, her interest had come out of the blue, and she’d acted impulsively Friday night when she was talking to Heath about the job.  Was she regretting it already?

“It’s great news,” Mom said, biting her lower lip in uncertainty.  I had a feeling she’d been at it for a while; her lipstick was gone completely, her bottom lip starting to chafe.

“Then why don’t you look excited?” I asked, frowning.

Mom blinked at me, and after a long pause her expression changed, exuding a vulnerability I’d never seen before.  All of her insecurities and uncertainties were laid bare for me to see, and I was taken aback by the suddenness of it.  Mom had always been the rock in our family.  Even during the worst moments with Dad and the media she’d been unshakeable.  She’d stood tall and proud, and had fought back with a strength and determination I deeply admired.

Now, to see her so timid and unsure of herself, I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know how to help her.  So I waited patiently for her to collect herself enough to speak, deciding that listening would be the least I could do if she wanted to talk.

“Am I doing the right thing?” she asked eventually, running a fingertip around the rim of her glass.

“What do you mean?”

She gestured around us vaguely.  “I mean all of this.  Leaving our home, driving all the way across the country to a place I picked randomly on a map.  Leaving your father to his fate, leaving our home, and our friends, and uprooting Annabel in the process.  I don’t know, maybe it was wrong of me.  Maybe I was selfish when I decided it was time to leave.”