“Your mom is only human. She’s going to make mistakes, just like you and me and the rest of the world. It can’t have been easy for her to raise you alone at such a young age, and parents tend to project their kids’ failures as their own, making their reaction exaggerated. We’re always the hardest with ourselves. But what you did was wrong, and you’ve admitted as much yourself, so now, you have to accept the consequences. I’ll talk to your mother about revealing who your father is, but in the meantime, I’d like to keep working with you on how not to succumb to peer pressure, and how to become more assertive without completely ruining your social life. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Great. So, your homework is to apologize to your mother, and I’ll talk to her first thing tomorrow morning. I’d do it today, but I have to go downtown for a conference.”

I check my watch, and it looks like I’ll have to skip lunch to get there on time. And that’s not even the worst part, as I sure don’t look forward to having the you-should-tell-your-daughter-who-her-father-is conversation with Medusa.

Eleven

Vivian

When I meet Tegan for lunch outside my office building, I can immediately tell something is different. The scowl she’s dutifully worn since yesterday has been replaced by a tentatively open expression. And, if not completely welcoming, at least she doesn’t look like she’s about to bite my head off.

Not an ideal state of things, but I’ll take it. Anything is better than yesterday’s attitude. To further confirm that a mood shift has taken place, when I ask Tegan where she wants to have lunch, she doesn’t give me a cheeky or sarcastic answer like “Wherever war prisoners may eat,” or “I’d like a homemade meal prepared by my mom’s loving hands for a change.”

Tegan just shrugs and says, “How about tacos?”

I smile, despite my resolution of keeping a stern, severe, you-really-screwed-up-this-time-kiddo attitude for the entire duration of her suspension, and say, “Tacos sound wonderful.”

We go to our favorite taqueria in Brooklyn, and once the meal is over, the second surprise of the day arrives.

Tegan polishes the last crumbs of her tortilla from her plate, takes a sip of Coke, and then looks up at me, sighing a heavy, “Mom?”