Odd Mom Out Read Online Free

I’m a poor substitute for a best friend.
    Remembering my own best friends, I stroke her long hair; the black tangled strands that hang down her back are still chlorine rough. I should have made her wash her hair and condition it when we returned. But that’s so not my style. Instead I ordered out for barbecue chicken pizza. Trying to distract her. Trying to distract myself.
    Growing up, I had best friends, great friends, friends my parents hated.
    The corner of my mouth curls as I picture Sam and Chloe, friends who wanted to be as different as I did. Sam dressed punk and Chloe Goth, but both rode skateboards as I did before we got our driver’s licenses and went for funky muscle cars and barely running sports cars. We weren’t soft, pretty girls. We were too angry. Which is probably why I got shipped off to boarding school my senior year.
    Sending me to boarding school had been Dad’s idea. Dad was old school. A retired major from the Deep South. All his life, he wanted sons. In the end, all he got was me.
    Slowly, I untangle the tangles in Eva’s hair, hearing the movie dialogue but not listening. I understand what Eva wants, more than she knows.
    I never did get my dad’s approval, and I adored him for much of my life. But nothing I did was good enough, nothing was right. He wanted sweetness, goodness, charm, docility. And I wanted fire.
    Glancing down at Eva, I see the crescent of black lashes, the slight curve of future cheekbones, the full upper lip, and the firm, rounded chin.
    This, I think, is the child my father wanted. My fingertips trace Eva’s cool brow. This is the daughter he would have cherished, adored. A delicate girl. A brilliant yet eager-to-please child, one who could be molded into a southern belle, his idea of the ultimate beauty queen.
    The movie ends, and Eva scoots down beneath the sheet. It’s a hot night, and we’ve no air-conditioning, and even with a fan pointed at the bed, the air is still, hot, thick, heavy.
    “Mom?” Eva’s cheek nestles in the pillow, her feet reach out and wrap around my legs.
    With the window open and moonlight spilling, I can see her face. Her profile is pale, goddesslike in the dark. She was born with an old soul, and even though she’s nine, she’s mastered the pensive look perfectly, a troubled line etched between her brows. “What, baby?”
    “Do you think Jemma’s mom is pretty?”
    I feel like a cat with a hairball. I want to retch. Instead I touch that furrow between Eva’s eyebrows, willing it to go away. “Mmmm.”
    “I love her clothes, and her hair. I think she’s so stylish and pretty.”
    I can’t even come up with an appropriate answer, but fortunately, Eva doesn’t seem to need one.
    “You’d look beautiful in dresses and outfits like that, Mom. Don’t you think? You could be so beautiful if you tried.” Eva smiles up at me, and her smile briefly dazzles me with its innocence and hopefulness. Eva can be so serious, and then when she smiles it’s like the full moon at midnight. So big and wide, glowing with light.
    I lean toward her, kiss her. “I love you.”
    She’s quiet for a long time, and I think maybe she’s fallen asleep. But then a moment later she whispers, “So white would be okay? Because I saw the most beautiful dress for you, Mom. It looks like a ball gown—”
    “Don’t make me send you back to your room, Eva.”
    “Mom.”
    “You know weddings aren’t my thing. The whole idea of dressing up like a Madame Alexander doll and marching down an aisle while everyone watches curdles my stomach.”
    “That’s rude,” she protests, cold feet rubbing against my calves.
    “But it’s true, and Eva, you don’t have to get married to be happy.”
    “Maybe not, but there’s no reason to make fun of people who want to get married.”
    “I’m not making fun of them. I’m just saying, don’t try to be part of the pack. Be the wolf. It’s so much more fun.”
    Eva giggles. “You’re weird.”
    “I know, and I