Chapter Two

Diana

MOM WILL WORK Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. That may change as workflow changes, or so she tells me. I don't know; I've never been in an office or know what this guy does to figure out what changes would even happen.

Her first night of work is this week, and she looks much better going to this job than to cook, in a flared skirt and silk blouse with makeup on. Her leg taps the table leg as I eat dinner, and I note that she doesn't eat much.

"Mom," I say, startling her.

"Dammit."

"Sorry. I just wanna say you don't need to be worried. You'll do great."

She manages a smile. "Thank you, honey. And thank you for being able to take care of yourself. I know I won't come home to the place burnt down or worse."

I smile back. "You can trust me!" And she can. I'd rather do my homework and get in bed and read than anything else.

She gets up and kisses the top of my head. "Be good. See you in the morning."

I don't see Mom in the morning; she's still asleep when I'm ready for school. So I just leave her a note and head in. I'm sure she worked hard, right? She deserves rest.

It's when she comes home from the job at the diner I panic: she looks like death warmed over with thick, dark circles under her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask, hugging her tight.

She hugs me back, but weak. "I'm just not used to this, honey. It's okay. Give me time to adjust."

And she seems to adjust. Sort of. She still looks awful but as time goes by, she's functional. The bills are paid. She's back to making jokes again. In my childish mind, I fully believe we are going to be okay.

One day when I am getting in from school, I find mom frantically cleaning.

"Um, what's up?" I ask, putting my backpack on the kitchen chair.

"Mike wants to come for dinner!"

"Mike, your new boss Mike?"

"Yes, now help me once you get out of your uniform," she says.

Mom even makes me dress well, in one of my dresses I usually wear to Mass on Sundays.

"He's never met you; only seen you when you study at the counter at the diner sometimes," she explains. "So look sharp, please, sweetheart."

I do as she asks, knowing my first impression on her boss has to be important. I want Mom proud of me, and I want him to like me and approve.

When the doorbell rings, Mom rushes to get it, smoothing her skirt and fixing her hair. Sometimes, I wonder if she has a crush on him. But when he walks in the door, I have to be wrong, because he's not… Well, he's butt-ugly if I am being honest. His eyes are nice, a light shade of blue, but his beard and clothes are unkempt, and his thinning hair could use a comb or something.

He doesn't look like a wealthy businessman, but I know he is. And I know he is doing Mom a favor, so I have to be on my best behavior.

Mom taught me how to be a good hostess already; her family was old-fashioned Sicilian, so a lot of things I learned, my classmates think are stupid. It seems to make a good impression on Mike — he insists I call him that, not "Mr. Sullivan".

During dessert, he turns to Mom and says, "I was right, she is a lovely little girl, Maria."

Mom smiles. "Thank you."

"One day she could come work for me, too. She's so polite and demure, clients would love her."

There's a beat of silence, thick with tension, before I pipe up, "Maybe for an afterschool job one day. I want to work in publishing!"

Relief is palpable on Mom's face until Mike says, "A pretty thing like you wasted behind a desk? That would be a shame indeed."

I don't know why Mom wouldn't want me working for the same man she is, but she doesn't need to worry. I have my life planned out already. And I will be successful.

"Mike wants to move in," Mom tells me, nearly a year after she has been working for him. I had assumed they were dating, but I wasn't sure. Mom doesn't tell me things she deems adult business; the only reason I knew about Dad's outrageous debt was because I was in the room when she opened the emails.

The relationship doesn't come as a surprise to me; Mike even convinced Mom to quit the diner and work exclusively for him. She's been more and more tired and agitated lately, too. Overworked. Maybe this will be a good change? He will be here with her, dates will be easier. Right?

Please let me be right.