Page 47 of The Bad Girl

Her hand reaches across the table, and I look down and notice something that twists my stomach into knots.

“Where’s your wedding ring?” I ask.

I see the tears, and I feel my own threatening to release. My parents have been together for twenty-six years. How is it possible that divorce is even an option at this point?

That waitress comes with the check, leaving it on the corner of the table.

“What happened?”

With shuddering breaths, she says, “I don’t know. One day, we’re happy. The next, he’s not. We went to counseling for months, and, well, let’s just say there was a lot of things to think about.”

And just like that, my childhood crumbles. The portrait of my happy family, everything I ever wanted for my own life, is destroyed.

“But why?”

“I’m too safe. I was never exciting. I guess, for a while, he was fine with that, he wanted that, but over the years, he grew bored. I guess maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, I just don’t want you to repeat my mistakes. I don’t want you playing it safe like I did. Don’t settle down too young, is all I’m saying.”

“Bored? He grew bored?”

“Nadine, he wants to be young again, and I’m comfortable with being old.”

With those words, what seems like an endless stream of tears starts pouring down my cheeks.

“Oh, Sweetie,” my mom says, bringing her chair around so she can embrace me, “it’s going to be okay.”

“I hate him!”

“But he still loves you. His feelings for you haven’t changed.”

“What-what’s going to happen? Are you going to come stay with me?”

“No, but I wanted to tell you this in person. I’m catching a bus back home tonight. I have my teachers’ retirement and what we’ve saved. We’ll figure something out.”

“This can’t happen!”

“It did. It already did.”

I break into another round of sobs, this time, to my consternation, snot joins the party, sliding down my face and threatening to ruin my shirt.

The waitress sets a clean napkin on the table, and I appreciate that she’s not trying to cheer me up. She just leaves me with my mom, as my world turns to ash.

“Honey,” my mom says gently.

I turn to her, blinking my eyes profusely. “Yeah, mom.”

“Go out there and live dangerously. Fuck the busboy. Stay up late. Get a tattoo. Eat raw sushi. Show your boobs at Mardi Gras. Eat a pint of ice cream at midnight, just because. And for God’s sake, help me navigate the dating sites—because I’m ready.” She cups my cheek with her hand, looking me in the eyes. “You only live once.”

I sniffle, giving my nose a wipe. “Mom, did you just YOLO me?”

“Well, I don’t know what a YOLO is, but the advice is good.”

The tables around us start clapping at my mother’s speech, and I find myself clapping as well. The busboy coughs to get my attention, and when I glance at him, I see a big smile on his face as he waggles his brow at me.

And through the despair, I can’t help but laugh—but no, I’m NOT going to take home the busboy.

“Mom, I’m gonna take you out for some dessert, Lady M’s, and we’re not going to talk about this. We’re going to talk about you.”

“I’m going to have to walk off some of these carbs before I add any more carbs.”

“Well, you have three blocks.”