Free Dreaming of Antigone by Robin Bridges

again. He’s supposed to be coming back tomorrow from his business trip.
    She puts the phone down on the table and stabs a chip into the salsa. “That idiot must have forgotten his charger again. Why wouldn’t he let me pack for him? Ooh, this is spicy!”
    I grin at her as she reaches for her water glass. And I realize we’re both having fun, for the first time in forever. And it feels . . . nice.
    â€œThanks for taking me out tonight,” I tell her. “I can’t remember the last time we came here.”
    Mom smiles back at me, but her smile grows fragile. “We were here after Iris’s team won the district all-stars game last spring.”
    Crap. I wish I hadn’t made her remember that. “They beat Augusta Prep.”
    Fortunately Lupita brings our food to the table, but not before Mom grows melancholy again. I know it’s okay to miss Iris. And Mom knows it’s okay to talk about her. But I think we’re alike in that we don’t like too many icky emotions.
    Crying is exhausting. And I’ve cried so much for my sister that I feel drained. I can’t let go of the grief, but I’ve got to make room inside me for some other emotions too. And right now, watching Mom eat spicy salsa makes me feel happy. Even if just for the moment. And being happy just for one moment is enough for now. It means maybe there will be other chances for more happiness in the future.
    I don’t think Mom sees it that way. Her smile is already gone, and she is back in fierce Momma Bear mode. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t make a mistake and let another cub fall into harm’s way.
    I curl my fingers around my glass of Diet Coke defensively.
    But she only puts her napkin in her lap, staring at her plate without really looking at the food.
    â€œThis looks wonderful,” I say. “Craig will be jealous when he finds out we went here without him.”
    She picks up her fork and knife to cut her quesadilla into tiny pieces instead of using her hands. “Oh, I’m sure he’s wining and dining those contractors in Atlanta at someplace fancy. I talked with Natalie’s mother today. I told her I was fine with you sleeping over with Natalie tomorrow night if you want to go. Just remember to take your medicine before bedtime and don’t stay up too late.”
    I start to tell her I don’t feel like going, but she really wants me to start being sociable again. And so do my friends.
    I give in. “I will. Thanks for letting me go.”
    She gives me another almost smile, and it’s worth suffering through a miserable night trying to socialize with stoned and/or drunk classmates. I can’t believe I can rationalize it that way.
    Â 
    We are pulling into the garage when Craig finally returns Mom’s call. I grab my backpack out of the car and go on into the house, not wanting to hear their conversation. Not because it will be intimate and NC-17 rated, but because it will be boring and business related. I have a ton of chemistry homework to do anyway.
    I’m falling asleep on my open book when my phone vibrates on my desk.
    â€œMeet me outside.”
    It’s not a number that’s programmed into my phone, but I still recognize it. Alex. No “please,” no polite request for the pleasure of my company. I roll my eyes, but curiosity gets the better of me. I pull a black hoodie on over my tank top and pray he doesn’t say anything about my cupcake pajama pants.
    I can hear Mom’s raised voice coming from her bedroom. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t afford that right now.”
    I hurry down the hallway to the front of the house. I don’t want to know what Craig’s bought now, but he likes his toys. A boat. A motorcycle. His convertible. Even if Mom nags and worries, his real estate business is doing well.
    â€œWhy couldn’t you wait to discuss this with me when you’re home?”
    I open