Bang (A Club Deep Story)(14)

My mom gives me a smile and pulls me into a hug. "How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm good. You guys have bags?"

"They're in the truck. We'll grab them in a bit." She comes in and I  close the door. Catherine is standing, surveying the main area of my  small house, and my mother joins her. For the first time, I see it how  they must see it. Small and cramped with not quite enough natural light.  Cluttered with my photography things and posters of strange art that  they don't understand. I can tell the smile on my mother's face is fake.  "This is nice."

"I like it," I say, leading them into the living room. It's not a lie. I  do. I push what I think their judgements might be out of my head. It  doesn't matter what they think. "So, what's the plan for the … fridge?"

My mother nods. "New ice cream freezer for the store. Bigger than our last one. This one has sliding doors and everything."

"That's great."

"They wouldn't deliver it to Aguila. God forbid a delivery person drives a little way."

I clear my throat. "That's a three-hour drive, mom. They probably need him for other deliveries."

She waves her hand like that doesn't matter. "It's bad business. If the  fridge hadn't already arrived here you better believe I would cancel.  When you say your company services the Greater Phoenix Area, you should  actually service that area."

"Okay." I press my lips together, knowing that me saying the has  unreasonably high expectations for deliveries isn't going to get me  anywhere. "So what's the plan for the fridge?"

Catherine leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees. "We can pick it up in a couple of hours and then we can do whatever."

"Whatever?"

"Yeah!" My mom says chirpily. "I thought we'd just hang out with you, do what you're doing."

"Okay," I say slowly.

She nods, even though I can tell it's overly enthusiastic. She's trying  my mom, even if she doesn't agree. "What would you be doing if we  weren't here?"

"I'd probably be out taking pictures."

"Let's do that then!"

I give her a look. "You want to come with me? It's not going to be interesting for you."

"Don't be silly," she waves her hand again. "I'll be with you. And if  it's important to you, I'm sure that it will be interesting."

Why, oh, why, didn't I just lie and say that I'd be going to the park?  Or the mall? Or anything that doesn't end with my mom and my sister  somewhere in Phoenix while I'm trying to take pictures? "Okay. We'll go  when you get back from picking up the fridge."



I resist the urge to slam the door behind me as I close it. My mom and  Catherine are already in the living room, but I don't stop. I head to my  room and put down the equipment that I'm carrying. It was a disaster. A  total, huge, all-encompassing disaster.

We went to this location that I'd mapped out about a month ago-a  beautiful broken down fountain. I'm going to have to go back because  it's beautiful, and once I get the perfect frame and turn it black in  white I think it will be one of the best images I've ever gotten. But  I'll have to go back. I set up the camera and mom tried to ask questions  and I tried to answer them. But my photoshoots are usually just me and  my camera and an empty space, and me moving the camera a hair this way  or that, or trying a different angle. Mom asked if a model was going to  show up more than once. And by the time an hour had passed, I could feel  both her and Catherine simmering with frustration. So I stopped, and  now we're back here. I should have insisted we do anything else.

I take a breath, trying to calm myself, and head back to the living  room, leaning against the doorway. "Do you guys want something to eat?"         

     



 

"What do you have?" Catherine asks.

"I have stuff to make chicken and pasta. We can order take-out. It's up to you guys. Maybe we can watch a movie or something."

My mom stands and crosses to the kitchen. "I can cook something."

"You don't have to do that, Mama."

"It's fine," she says, a tired smile on her face. "I'm happy to."

My mother always does like to be productive. She probably is actually  happy to do it after an hour of doing what she views as nothing.

"So why have you been dodging my calls?" Catherine says, looking up from her phone.

Trust my sister to bring up something like this. "Because I didn't want to be set up on anymore surprise dates."

"Whatever," she says. "That was for your own good. And seeing what I  just saw, I don't see that you've been too busy to pick up the phone."

That's because she usually called in the early evening and I was already  on my way to the club and my phone was off. I shrug. "Besides, what  makes you think I have been busy."

"Well, I've wanted to finish telling you about what Keith said about you. Especially after you stood him up."

"Catherine," I snap, "I don't give a shit about what Keith said."

Her eyes widen, and behind me my mother gasps. "Christine, watch your language!"

I roll my eyes. "Mama, you and I both know that daddy says that and worse every day."

"Your father is a man. Ladies should have a more distinguished tongue."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. "Fine. I don't care what Keith said."

"Why not?" Christine says, "He's such a nice guy."

I give her a look. "He is not a nice guy. He is, frankly, an ass. Why you set me up with him in the first place is beyond me."

She scoffs. "You could do a lot worse than him."

"I could do a lot better, too. Trust me."

Christine's eyes narrow. "I wondered about that. Suddenly you're not  answering your phone and you're too good to date Keith. You're seeing  someone?"

My heart plummets. If they find out about Hudson, they'll never let me  hear the end of it. He is the epitome of a city man, and to them, that's  the worst sin imaginable. "Honestly, me not wanting to date a man who  basically bullied me in high school has nothing to do with me seeing  someone."

She cocks her head to the side, considering. "You didn't say you weren't though."

"I didn't say I was, Catherine. And even if I was, it's none of your business."

"I'm your sister," she says, thoroughly appalled.

I shake my head. "Why do you even care? Who I may or may not be with doesn't affect you."

"She's just worried about you, sweetie," my mom says from the kitchen. "We all are."

There's a sinking feeling in my gut, and I'm dreading what's coming, but  maybe if I pretend I don't know what's about to happen they'll go easy  on me. "You don't have anything to worry about," I say, gesturing around  to my house. "I'm fine."

She pauses stirring the pot of pasta that she's put on the stove. "You are not fine."

I cross my arms, preparing for the blow. "And what makes you say that?"

The look on her face tells me that it should be obvious. "You live in a  tiny house that has no room, you-apparently-don't have a boyfriend, and  for fun, you stand out in the hot sun and take pictures of nothing."

"I was taking pictures of the fountain, Mama."

"Yeah, a broken concrete fountain that doesn't work. In an abandoned shopping complex."

I walk over to the couch and sit down. "I'm an environmental  photographer. Just because you don't appreciate it doesn't mean it's not  valuable. Have you ever heard of Ansel Adams?"

She huffs a sigh. "Your father and I just don't understand. Why would  you choose this? Why would you choose being alone in a city full of  strangers instead of being at home with your family? Why would you  choose something that is going to assure you're alone for the rest of  your life?"         

     



 

"Wait a minute," I stand back up. "You think that because I've chosen to  become a photographer I'm going to be single for the rest of my life?"

"This isn't what men want," she spits. "They want women who love their  families and can take care of a good home and have pets and be there  when they get home."

"And so what?" My anger breaks open and my voice rises. "You know, I  don't care. I've spent so much time thinking that I was boring and  average because of all of you. That's all you ever told me I was. You  told me I should stay home, never go anywhere, and never try anything  unique or adventurous. I followed your advice, and still, absolutely  nothing I do makes you happy. Guess what, I just made a new discovery.  It's my life. I'm happy in my small house with no pets. I'm happy  working in a photography studio and practicing my art. God forbid  someone in the family be an artist. What I do, and what I want, have  value, mama. I'm sorry you can't see that, but I'm done letting you tell  me that my life isn't good enough just because it's not the same as  your life."

She stares at me like I've turned into a talking fish. I have no idea  what she's going to say next. I know she'll have an answer. There's not a  time in my life when my mother hasn't had a response to something that  was said.