Stirring Up Trouble(18)

Reina sat on her bed, resting her back against the headboard, her ankles crossed, and a large afghan across her lap.



“Why are you in my room?” Lola asked her insane mother.



“I knew you’d try to avoid me and go through the window. I did raise you for the first eighteen years of your life. Give me a little credit.” Reina chuckled and folded her hands together.





“Thanks for your concern, not that I haven’t taken of myself for years. But now that you see I got home safe and sound, you can leave my room. I’m tired.” She put her hand on her hip and waited for Reina to leave. When her mother didn’t move, Lola gritted her teeth and started undressing for bed.



Lola felt her mother’s scrutinizing gaze as if she were a bug under the microscope. The only thing that had changed about that woman in all these years was her hair had completely grayed. She still wore the clothes of a sixties hippie. Lola glanced down at the floor to her own clothes. Okay, so she and her mother dressed similarly. Lola was more than twenty years younger. She could get away with it.



She threw on her pajamas and went into the connecting bathroom to brush her teeth. Maybe if she took her time, her mother would get the hint.



She peeked in the mirror’s reflection. Her mother hadn’t moved a muscle. Why wouldn’t she leave?



After rinsing her mouth and wasting as much time in the bathroom as she could, Lola stood in front of her bed and yawned. Last hint before she’d start yelling like a four-year-old.



“Haven’t slept well lately?” Reina asked with a smile.



She flashed a fake smile in return. “I’ve slept fine.”



Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her. Uh-oh. Never a good sign. She decided to tackle the mess on her dresser in order to avoid the stare. Both she and Portia knew once their mother turned the stare on you, you’d better ‘fess up because she already knew the answer.



“Have the dreams started?” her mother asked.



A shiver danced along Lola’s spine. How had she known about her dream? One silly dream didn’t mean anything. “Dreams?” Trying to act nonchalant, she collected sticky notes reminders littering her dresser and threw them in her trash.





“Ooh, I can tell by the innocent tone of your voice and your cleaning that you’ve had one of the dreams,” Reina said. “Don’t be frightened, Viola. It’s your destiny. Your Muse is awakening.”



Lola’s fingers curled into a fist. She was sick of listening to her mom’s tales about listening to the earth singing and following the signs. “I haven’t had any dreams.”



“Of course you have. Everyone dreams. People don’t always remember them upon waking, but they do have them. Except we’re different.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Our dreams are more than physiological processes. Ours give us clues of whom we are meant to inspire. Come on, you can tell me. I’m your mother.”



“I told you, I haven’t had any dreams. Just drop it. And as far as being my mother, you never acted like one before, so I don’t see why you feel the need to do it now.”



Reina flinched. “I may not have been the typical milk and sugar-free, fat-free bran muffin kind of mom like Betty Crocker, but I gave you something far greater. The chance to explore the country, live off the land, meet thousands of people. Most people spend their entire lives in one place never learning, never growing. You’ve lived all over the country since leaving my side. Your body is covered with tattoos, your own kind of self-expression. You’re free to do whatever you want, be whomever you choose to be. You’re talented, intelligent, and beautiful. So you can blame me for a lot of things, but you cannot say I didn’t act like your mother. I just didn’t act like everyone else’s mother.”



Lola’s belly churned. She hadn’t meant to hurt Reina’s feelings. Her mother was right. She may not have been the most conventional mom, but she was never dull.



She scooted onto the bed next to her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to say that. I know you meant well.”



“Now that Portia has accepted her Muse and found her soul mate in Ryan, I don’t have to worry about her anymore. But you . . . you’re so much like me, it’s frightening. You think we’re different, but we’re not. We’re both strong, intelligent, artistic women who don’t require a man to fulfill our needs. Well . . . maybe a couple of them doesn’t hurt.”





She laughed and Lola groaned. “Mom. I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”