Two Weeks to Fall in Love

22. Two Weeks to Have the Talk

The rhythmic tapping of fingers against the living room table was making me nervous. Well, more nervous than I already was, which was a significant amount.

There was nothing worse than knowing you were in trouble, and then instead of the yelling, there was silence. It was like mothers perfected the art of making you feel extremely guilty without even having to say a single word. A stern look was enough.

I cleared my throat for the third time in the last five minutes. "I-um-I can explain."

"Mhmm," Mom hummed.

"It's really not what you think. Noah was just, uh, he was kidding. I mean we're not like, like serious about dating," I stumbled with my words, and mom raised her eyebrow. "Not-not to say that we're playing around, it's more that we're still getting to um, know each other, so who knows if-if our relationship will last long, you know," I kept rambling, as I always did when I felt awkward. "We might break up in like, a week, or something."

In fact, it was almost certainty that we would break up in a little over a week. After all, dating Noah Archer always came with a predetermined expiration date. Why would it be any different this time?

Mom was silent still, tapping away with her fingers. I felt beads of sweat roll down my neck. Just as I was about to go into another awkwardness-fueled monologue, Mom let out a sigh and shook her head.

"Honestly, Sky, I'm a little hurt you didn't tell me, that's all." Oh no. She was going to hit me with the I'm not mad, I'm disappointed. My stomach clenched. "We used to talk about everything. I didn't realize that had changed. I'm not mad at you hiding this, I'm just disappointed in myself that you felt like you had to. Do you feel judged by me? Can you not trust me? Is that why?"

Ugh. This was worse than I expected. "Mom, this wasn't about you. It's... complicated with Noah. I didn't want to say anything until I knew that this would last."

"I see, I understand. You didn't see the point in talking to your mom about boys. It's not like she's been patiently waiting to talk to you about boys since that crush you had 2 years ago," she said, sniffling. "And it's not like she has twice your age of experience with men. What could she know?"

Oh, the dramatics laced with passive aggression. Delightful.

"Mom..." I said, in a voice that probably made me sound more like an adult than the fake-sniffling woman in front of me. Mom waved her hand in the air dismissively.

"Don't worry about me, darling. I guess I should get used to my only child becoming a distant stranger. I had always wished to become best friends with my daughter once I had her, you see, but alas... it was not meant to be," she said, holding a hand to her forehead for maximum drama.

My lips twitched. I was already used to Mom having the maturity of a pinecone when she started her woe is me act, but this was on the next level. But, somehow, I held it together. There was no doubt that laughing would be the wrong route in this scenario. It would just prolong this entire scene if I entertained her theatrics. And I desperately needed to reunite with my bed.

"Oh come on mom, you know you're my friend–" I said and she stopped her little act to raise her brow at me. "–best friends, that is." She nodded, her hand returning back to her forehead. "I tell you everything that matters. This wasn't one of those things, so I just thought getting you excited for what might be nothing was pointless."

"A boy showing up to our house and staying for dinner doesn't matter?" She asked, frowning at me for a second before her face returned to her forlorned expression. "It matters not, I understand, for you it is of little consequence what is shared between us..."