Condemn Me Not (2 page)

Claire
gaped about her. 
Wasn’t she seated
?  She had to be—she certainly couldn’t
take this news standing up!  Rebecca was leaving.  It was unthinkable,
unfathomable.

Simone
loosened Claire’s vise-grip on the chair and pulled it out for her.  With a
hand to her shoulder, she gently pushed her down.  “Sit, Claire.”

Claire
searched Simone’s face as though it would reveal this madness for the dream
that it was. 
Paris
. 
Rebecca was leaving for Paris
?  Lowering to
the seat, her body dropped like lead.  The very thought made her ill.

“Can
I get you some water?” Simone asked, ignoring the girls for the moment.

“No.”
 Claire waved her off.  “I’m fine.”  She paused through another sweep of
light-headedness and thought—
or will be, once they straightened this
nonsense out
.  And it
was
nonsense.  What was Rebecca thinking moving
to Paris?  And delivering the news on the eve of their high school graduation? 
During party preparations, no less?

Had
Rebecca lost her mind?

Claire
took in the women as they clustered around the circular table.  Mariah was fixed
by Rebecca’s side, comrades-in-arms, allies to the end.  Simone stood stiff and
resolute, her trim figure taut with nerves.  Claire grappled for calm.  This
would not stand.  Rebecca was going to college.  Period.

Rebecca
stood immobile, angst swimming in her doe-brown eyes as she peered down at her
mother.  Waves of long brown hair fell forward, her brow furrowed in trepidation. 
Claire inhaled a breath of patience—space, before deciding her course of action. 
Considering that Simone’s direct approach didn’t realize success, perhaps a
stealth attack of reason would do the trick.  She gathered her daughter in her
sights, folded her hands on top of the table and began quietly, “Rebecca, I
know the idea of studying art in Paris is a heady one for you.  It was for me,
too.”  She could feel the patter of her pulse in her throat.  “But the reality of
living abroad is something entirely different.  You’ve already been accepted to
Rhode Island School of Design.  It’s close to home, it’s a top-notch university
where you can study the elements of design and color.  Which is what you want,
isn’t it?  Isn’t that what you’ve been working for all these years, your
internships, your job at Macy’s?  Besides,” she continued, without waiting for
a response, “you don’t want to waste a precious year of your life trying to get
accepted into the University of Paris after all the hard work you put in for
the application to Rhode Island.  It wouldn’t make sense.  And they might not
even—”

“I’ve
already been accepted.”

Claire’s
pulse catapulted through her chest wall.  “
What
?”

“I’ve
already been accepted,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.

Already
been accepted
? 
But how
? 
When
?  The questions kept coming, but her voice escaped
her.  Black clouds crowded her vision, her stomach turned. 
This couldn’t be
happening
.

“Rebecca.”
 Simone took charge of the interrogation.  She turned and squared off with
Claire’s daughter.  “How did you manage to do that without your parent’s
knowledge?”

Rebecca
cast a reluctant gaze toward her friend’s mother and revealed, “I requested an
application last year and completed it on my own.”  She shot a wary glance to
her mother as she continued, “I submitted it last semester and was accepted.”

“You
what?”  Claire’s mouth went dry.

“Without
a parent’s signature?”  Simone asked.

“It
isn’t required.”  Her gaze darted between the two.  I’m eighteen.”

Her
child had gone behind her back?  This was too much.  It had to be a dream.  Claire’s
thoughts swerved to her husband.  This would kill Jim.  Rebecca was his baby,
his little girl.  To learn she had hidden her intentions, basically lied to
him?  Black twinkles started popping within her vision. 
Oh my God
...

“I
didn’t want you to worry,” Rebecca said quickly, as though staving off the
assault.  “I knew you’d be upset if I didn’t get in, so I waited to see if I
could and then I wanted to surprise you.”  She tried to smile, to rally support
from Mariah and Simone, but the effort fell short of its mark.  She expelled a
sigh.  “I thought you’d be happy.”

Upset
? 
Surprise
me
? 
Happy
?  The irony cut Claire’s heart in two as tears scorched a
glaze over her eyes.  She was more upset over the fact that Rebecca
had
been accepted than if she had not! 
Paris
?  Familiar streets and cafés zipped
through her mind.  Striped awnings, black metal lampposts, sodden gray
buildings, stone trim ornately carved.  The banks along the Seine below, the
slow boats at sunset, the tree-lined Champs-Élysées.  Claire brought hand to her
brow, sinking forehead into her palm.  She needed that glass of water now.

“I’m
sorry, Mom.”

Sorry. 
Her daughter planned on moving abroad, worlds away from Boston, their home in
Newton, the idyllic suburb where lawns connected neighbors, sidewalks courted children. 
It was their life, her entire existence and Rebecca was
sorry
?

Because
she was moving to Paris.

“I
didn’t mean to upset you,” Rebecca said nervously, the sentiment quickly swallowed
by the hush in the room.  It seemed no one wanted to make a move.  No one
wanted to voice a protest, or support.  No one wanted to infer her next step.  It
was Claire’s turn, Claire’s choice.

Continuing
to digest the shock of her daughter’s revelation, Claire took heart at her daughter’s
pleading tone.  It meant there was room for negotiation.  It meant she might be
able to convince her otherwise.  It meant there might be a chance she would stay. 
Slowly, she lifted her to face to her daughter, where innocence mingled with
distress in the soft almond-shaped eyes of her father, in lashes long and
youthful, a complexion clear and pink.  The face of a child, a girl.  Granted a
girl of eighteen, but Rebecca’s was still guileless and fresh to life.  She
didn’t know what she didn’t know and it was a mother’s job to teach her.  “It’s
okay,” Claire pretended, giving herself room to think.  “The idea just came as
a shock to me.  Don’t worry.  I’ll be fine.”

So
long as Paris remained an idea and not actuality.

CLAIRE
AND SIMONE

Claire
watched the girls retreat, like fighters withdrawing to their perspective corners,
each nursing wounds before the next round of battle.  And there would be a next
battle.  Neither she nor Simone was happy about their daughters’ decisions. 
But caught off guard, the two of them needed time to rally their brains, devise
a way to cajole and conquer, convince the girls they were making a mistake.

Through
the bay of windows in her kitchen, white light flattened the frost-bitten
landscape, a light layer of snow clinging along the top fence line.  It was the
final blast of cold before winter conceded the season to spring.  Claire rubbed
her arms against the chill.  She felt the weight of the sky, swollen with
clouds that seemed to seep indoors, muting the bright yellow flowers of her
wallpaper, the perky blue plaid cushions of her chairs.  Her sunny décor had
turned gloomy.

Simone
dropped herself into the chair across from Claire.  “At least Rebecca’s still
going to college.  She’s not throwing away her education for some inane idea of
starting a sidewalk business.  And Paris is exciting,” she continued, the
prospect replacing her previous anger with wistful longing.  “Think of the
adventure and opportunity she’ll have, the doors it will open.”

Claire
cast a
don’t-encourage
-
her
glare at her friend and dropped an
open hand to the table with a whack.  “The last thing I need is you getting her
hopes up about attending school in Paris.”  While she was secretly proud of her
daughter for being accepted to such a prestigious university, there was no way
they could afford it.  And although Rebecca had taken the initiative in getting
herself accepted, she had neglected the reality of cost.  She and Jim were
scarcely able to manage the fees at Rhode Island.  If it weren’t for Rebecca’s
scholarships, she wouldn’t be able to attend at all.

Spying
the graduation party “to do” list, half-unchecked, only compounded Claire’s misery. 
This morning was supposed to be the final rundown on party preparations. 
Mariah and Rebecca were graduating together in June, and she and Simone were pulling
together for their big celebration.  They had to mail invitations, decide on
food, decorations...  But in light of the girls’ revelations, Claire didn’t
feel the first scrap of desire to finalize details.  She only wanted the world
to stop so she could hit
Reverse
.

“I
can’t believe Mariah,” Simone said.  “What is she thinking?”

Claire
shook her head, pained by the guttural disappointment in Simone’s voice.  There
were few things capable of destabilizing her friend—other than a dislocated
hip, maybe—but this had to be one of them.  Mariah had hit her where it hurt. 
She had rejected her mother’s wishes and thrown them smack in her face.

“If
she had told me she was going to Paris, I’d be thrilled,” Simone said.  “Concerned
about the money, but thrilled by her decision.”  She hooked her gaze to Claire’s
and asked, “Why aren’t you?”

Claire
expelled a sigh.  Because of the money.  Because of the distance.  Because it went
against all the plans they’d made, the ones that would keep her daughter close,
keep
them
close.  But to reveal the first reservation would expose her
for the over-protective mother that she was, everything Simone wasn’t.  “It’s
just not what I expected,” she said, hoping her friend wouldn’t push.  They
didn’t always see eye to eye on child-rearing and Claire didn’t want to argue
the point now.  She wanted the whole mess to disappear like a dream.

“Neither
is Mariah’s dropping out of school, but at least Rebecca’s going—and to Paris,”
Simone said, excitement elevating her tone.  “To study art in Paris is a dream
come true, isn’t it?  To sketch the landscape, capture the people along the
Seine...”  She honed in on Claire.  “It’s what you wanted for yourself, once.”

The
remark was a direct stab.  A lecture from Simone was the last thing Claire needed.

But
Simone droned on, “I remember a time when you weren’t sure you would return to
Brown, that I’d have to look for another roommate.  Personally I was happy for
you.  I’d have gladly found someone else if it meant you were taking up
residence in Paris.  If you’d accepted the position as assistant to Jacques, he
would have taught you everything he knew.  You certainly could have transferred
your credits easily enough.”

Hearing
Simone dust off her college dream made Claire feel weak.  Like a failure.  She
sucked in a deep breath and blew it free.  She absolutely had wanted that once. 
Desperately so.  It only took one summer in France to convince her Paris was
her kind of city.  Boston was filled with history and landmarks, but in her
eyes it paled in comparison to Paris, the city of love and romance.  Nights
warmed by lamplight, sidewalks teeming with lovers...  Fleeting images of
Jacques entered her mind, tugging old desires from deep within her heart.  An
art professor at the University of Paris, Jacques was certain he could get her
enrolled, and together they could have worked and taught, traveled and loved.  Memories
pinched.  But that was before she met Jim.

“Seems
to me you’d be happy for her.”  Savage indictment heated the amber flecks in Simone’s
eyes.  “This experience will open doors Rhode Island never could.  And the
adventure of living in another country?”  She heaved a sigh and chucked her
gaze around the kitchen.  “I could only wish as much for Mariah.”

Guilt
iced Claire’s longing as she switched her focus back to Simone.  “I am.”

“Could
have fooled me.”

Yes,
well, she was in shock.  And the issue wasn’t settled.  Hope slashed through
her thoughts.  She’d talk to Jim tonight, he’d know what to do.  Uninterested
in hashing it out further, she switched the spotlight to Simone.  “What are you
going to do about Mariah?  You can’t let her give up her education.”

“I
don’t intend to.  I’m going to convince her she’s making the biggest mistake of
her life and set her back on track.”

“She
sounded pretty firm.”

“Youthful
arrogance.”  Simone waved a hand in dismissal.  “Nothing I can’t overcome.  I’ll
talk to Mitchell and together we’ll present a united front.  It’ll be a tougher
sell with the two of us in sync against it.”

Claire
returned a doubtful gaze.  “Mariah’s a pit bull.  Once she gets something in
her mind, she won’t let go.”

“Don’t
remind me.”

A
hesitant smile crept onto Claire’s lips.  “She’s a lot like you in that regard.”

“Yes,
but I always had a plan.”  Simone jabbed a finger to the table.  “When I had an
idea, I always worked it nine ways to Sunday before I set the first foot in play. 
So in that respect, we are nothing alike.”