Pumpkin Spice Up Your Life

by Suzanne Nelson

  My heart sprang happily in my chest. Had Daniel been missing me as much as I’d been missing him? The thought warmed me from the inside out, and after grabbing my cello from the music room, I was flying down the school steps and onto Main Street, my eyes glued to the Snug Mug’s A-frame roof in the distance.

  I blew through the door of the Mug, an expectant smile on my face, my eyes scanning the room for Daniel and whatever fun surprise he had planned for me.

  But I didn’t see Daniel anywhere, only Elle and Brandon tucked into the papasan chair. When Elle caught sight of me, she looked strangely sheepish, even concerned.

  “Nadi …” She stood up and started toward me. “There’s someone he—”

  “Nadi!” Daniel’s voice drowned out Elle’s, and I glanced up to see him waving from the Mug’s loft. His face was lit with the excitement it always had when he’d masterminded a surprise he was particularly proud of. “Up here!”

  I couldn’t wait another moment and sprang up the steps, taking them two at a time, ignoring Elle’s pleading, “Wait!” My one fleeting thought as my foot hit the final step was: Why is Elle telling me to wait?

  Then I understood. Standing at the top of the stairs was my mother.

  My body turned statue-still. Somewhere far beneath the roar of my pulse, I heard Daniel’s muffled, “Surprise!” But I couldn’t speak or move. All I could do was stare.

  Mom’s face looked older than I remembered, with some new, faint lines etched around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She’d colored the tips of her wavy brown hair purple, and she wore a long, belted dress and slouchy boots.

  “Nadine!” Mom exclaimed with a smile, and threw her arms around me in a fierce hug. “I can’t believe how tall you are! And your hair’s so much longer.” She swiped at her eyes with one hand without loosening her hold on me with the other. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, and now here you are. It doesn’t even seem real!”

  My arms were stiff against my sides, and I didn’t make a move to return her embrace. My neck was damp with her tears, but as she pressed her hands against my cheeks and ran them over my hair, I stood, still frozen. Panic avalanched down my back.

  I glanced at Daniel, thinking he’d see the distress in my eyes and help.

  But Daniel was beaming at Mom and me, oblivious to my growing agitation. “This is so great,” he was gushing. “I knew it would work. And everybody’s so happy—”

  “No.” My voice was strangled by the nerves tightening every fiber of my being. “No!” I cried, louder this time, directing my words at Mom. “You think you can hug me like you did when I was a baby and that will make everything okay?”

  In the faint distance, I registered the shop’s chatter quiet below.

  I yanked free of Mom’s arms, and her radiant smile dimmed into confusion. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I blustered. “I never said that you could come, and you … you show up out of nowhere!”

  Mom glanced at Daniel uncertainly, and then back at me, her cheeks paling. “I thought … we thought …” She took two steps back, her hands falling limply to her sides.

  “What? That you could blindside me and I’d be okay with it?” I turned to Daniel now, whose expression looked nearly as stricken as Mom’s. Behind him on the coffee table sat two untouched mugs of Pumpkin Spice Supreme and a vase of flowers. “You set this whole thing up without telling me?” I gestured toward the table, where he’d probably envisioned Mom and me bonding over a newly discovered shared love for pumpkin spice. “And you thought I’d be happy about it?”

  Daniel opened his mouth, but Mom interjected before he could say anything. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t know … I thought you wanted this. When Daniel reached out to me, I assumed it was because you’d asked him to. I never would’ve come if I’d known you hadn’t agreed to it. I …” Her voice broke, and her eyes filled. “I’ll go.”

  Her last two words were barely audible as she stepped past me and hurried down the stairs, unsteadily clutching the banister as she went.

  I caught a quick glimpse of Brandon, down below, opening the door for Mom as she stumbled through it, and Elle looking up at me worriedly. But then I was whirling to face Daniel.

  “How could you ever think that having my mom show up here unannounced was a good idea?” My voice quavered.

  “Nadi, please don’t be angry,” he started. “I thought you’d be happy. That if you saw her in person, you’d change your mind, and—”

  “You didn’t think,” I snapped. “You never do when you’re fixated on one of your grandiose ideas. You fantasize about these great surprises, but you don’t think!”

  “Come on, Nadi, she’s your mom,” he continued, as if none of what I’d said had sunk in at all. “It’s obvious that she loves you, and you have a chance at a relationship with her. Why wouldn’t you want that?”

  “Because she left!” I cried. “Because she didn’t care enough to be around for the last six years.” I threw up my hands. “I don’t have to give you reasons, because it’s my decision. Not yours. And you took it away from me!”

  Daniel shook his head. “Sometimes life doesn’t give you second chances …” His voice softened, and there was longing on his face as he spoke. “But you have one. You should take it.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” I glared at him. “You should’ve stayed out of it. Your stupid surprises never work anyway. Not with me, and definitely not with Kiya.”

  He frowned, confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean? Kiya’s loved every one of the surprises—”

  “She thinks they’re from Graham!” I blurted.

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “She’s crushing on Graham.” I nodded as he shook his head in disbelief. “She’s giving him all the credit for the gifts you gave her. She thinks he’s her secret admirer. And he likes her, too. They’re going on a date tonight.”

  “No.” Daniel’s voice was firm with denial. “That can’t be right …”

  “If you would quit living in a daydream all the time, you’d see it. I wanted to tell you earlier this week but—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Daniel’s tone was already hopeful again. “Graham’s not right for Kiya, and once she realizes it, I’ll be here waiting. I’m not giving up.”

  I threw my head back in frustration. “God, don’t you even hear what I’m saying?” I met his eyes, and felt all the irritation inside me pouring out. “No, you don’t. You want to keep living in your pretend world of happy endings and perfect reunions, and—and you never stop to think about who you’re hurting!” I turned for the stairs. “I’m done helping you with your projects. I’m done with everything.”

  “Nadi, wait,” Daniel pleaded. “Today wasn’t supposed to go like this …”

  His voice faded as I ran down the stairs, past the stares of Elle, Brandon, and most of the other customers in the Snug Mug, and out the door.

  The frigid air stung my eyes as I ran, and tears poured down my cheeks. I wanted to run until the hurt faces of Mom and Daniel were obliterated from my memory forever. But no amount of running could erase them from my mind.

  I didn’t expect Dad to be home when I burst into our house, my cheeks red and raw with tears. But I found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, a distraught expression on his face.

  “You saw your mother, then,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he’d been fearing or expecting this all along.

  “You—you know what happened?” I stammered. “How—”

  “She stopped in here before she went to the Snug Mug.” He clasped and unclasped his hands, avoiding my eyes. He took a deep breath. “I knew she was coming today.”

  “You knew, too?” I cried. “Am I the only one who didn’t know?” I clenched my eyes shut against the memory of Elle, trying to stop me as I came in the door of the Snug Mug. She’d probably been trying to warn me, maybe give me a few seconds, at least, to mentally prepare.

  Dad stood
up and started toward me. But he hesitated when he saw my tear-streaked face, the crying too daunting for him to handle.

  “Daniel asked me about setting up the meeting with your mom.” Dad shrugged. “He thought it would be better to surprise you with a visit, and that way you wouldn’t have time to overthink it.”

  “And you let him plan it?” I stared at him. “You’re my dad! You shouldn’t have let one of my friends get involved in this. This was between you, me, and Mom!”

  Dad ran a hand through his hair. “You and Daniel are so close. He knows you so well. I thought—”

  “You thought that Daniel knew me better than you did, so you’d let him decide, so you wouldn’t have to.” My eyes brimmed afresh.

  “Nadine. That’s not what I thought,” Dad said. “I should’ve told you beforehand. It was wrong to spring this on you. I see that now.”

  “You should’ve told me!” I cried. “But you never tell me anything. Living with you is like living alone! I never know how you feel about anything.”

  Dad’s eyes drooped at their corners, and his mouth sagged in sadness. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” His tone was surprised. “You’ve always been so independent and self-sufficient. You never needed me for much of anything after your mom left, so I thought you were okay …”

  “You should’ve asked!” I exclaimed. “Or not asked, but just … played board games with me anyway! Or built the pillow fort … or whatever. Don’t assume I’m okay because I handle things on my own. Maybe I want to be taken care of—sort of—” My voice dropped, and I added an awkward, “A little bit every now and then.”

  Dad’s face tucked in on itself, and I sighed. The rabbit was retreating into his warren.

  “Forget it.” My voice wobbled and, within seconds, tears were leaking from my eyes again. “This whole day’s been a mistake. Just do me a favor?” My voice was squeaky with crying now. “If Mom calls, I don’t want to talk to her. You deal with it. Or don’t.” I turned for my bedroom stairs. “I don’t care either way.”

  I wasn’t getting out of bed. That’s what I decided on Saturday when I woke up and the memory of Friday’s disaster hit me like a sledgehammer right between the eyes. I squinted at my phone’s screen and found seven new voice mails (all from Daniel) and thirty new text messages (all from Elle). The texts ranged from Call me to Hello? to the last one, sent at noon: I’m coming over whether you like it or not!

  I deleted Daniel’s messages without listening to them, then pulled the blanket over my head, determined to shut out the world. No such luck, because a moment later Dad’s voice called my name. I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

  “I have to run to the grocery store,” Dad said, and I guessed by the nearness of his voice that he was at the top of my bedroom stairs, debating whether to come all the way up or not. “Do you need anything?” When I didn’t answer, I heard a muffled sigh. “Okay, then. I made you some grilled cheese and tomato soup. We need a break from chili, don’t you think? It’s on the kitchen table when you’re ready.”

  His feet creaked on the stairs, and I thought he’d gone, but then his voice came again.

  “I talked to your mom last night.”

  I already knew he had. I’d heard the phone ring, and could tell from the tone of his voice who he was talking to. I hadn’t been able to make out what he was saying, though, and now I held my breath, waiting.

  “No one’s going to pressure you to do anything, Nadi,” Dad said now. “You only have to see your mom again if you feel ready. I promise.” There was a pause, and then, “We both promise.”

  His steps retreated down the stairs, and a few minutes later I heard the front door click open and shut. I snuggled down deeper into the covers, not wanting to acknowledge the sunlight streaming through my window, or the fact that it was a new day at all.

  I had just started dozing again when the weight of someone sitting down on my bed made me yelp.

  “If you ever want to see your cello again,” Elle’s voice said, “hand over the ransom money now.”

  “My cello!” I tried to throw off the covers but got hopelessly tangled in them instead. “Omigod, I left it at the Snug Mug yesterday afternoon!” I yanked at the covers until I freed myself, then found Elle sitting complacently at the foot of my bed, my cello case cradled in her arms, my schoolbag (which I’d also left) at her feet. I instinctively reached for the case, but she swung it away from me teasingly. “No ransom money?” she asked, and when I didn’t answer, she shrugged. “I’d settle for chocolate instead.”

  I flopped back against the pillow. “Thank you for rescuing my cello.”

  She grabbed me in a big hug. “I’m so sorry that Daniel sprang your mom on you like that. I swear I didn’t know about it until I got to the Mug. And then she was … there! If I’d known beforehand, I would’ve tried to stop Daniel.”

  I sighed. “It’s okay. I … don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “And I’m not leaving my bed. Ever.”

  “Fine.” She tried to lighten the mood by feigning nonchalance. “Then I guess you don’t want to hear about the Kiya-Graham scandal last night, either.”

  “What now? They’re eloping to Switzerland to ski the Alps?”

  Elle smiled, shaking her head. “Rumor has it that they’re finito, after dating for less than twelve hours. That has to be a record.” She lay across the foot of my bed, clearly relishing the fact that she had the scoop. “Apparently, Graham kissed Heather while he was at a party with Kiya last night. They were playing spin the bottle, but Kiya didn’t care why it happened. She told Graham that she won’t waste her time on a guy who kisses other girls on some whim.”

  I rolled my eyes and groaned. “And this is supposed to cheer me up how?”

  “I know you’re not a huge Kiya fan, so I thought you might get a little satisfaction out of hearing that she doesn’t always get everything she wants.” She scanned my frowning face. “Nope. I guess not.”

  “I’m not evil, Elle. I’m not going to cheer because Kiya was treated badly. She might be annoyingly perfect, but I don’t hate her. I just don’t want her dating—” I caught myself when I realized that I was about to say “Daniel.” I didn’t even want to think his name right now, but there was something else, too. Why didn’t I want Kiya dating Daniel? The question made me squirm.

  “Who?” Elle perked up, resting her head in her cupped palms. “Who don’t you want her dating?”

  “Never mind,” I mumbled, not wanting to pin down whatever was making my pulse surge. I tried yanking the covers back over my head, but I was foiled when Elle pinned them down.

  “Nadi, I know you’re upset about yesterday. Daniel overstepped. Way, way overstepped. But he never meant to hurt you. And the situation with your mom—”

  “Don’t.” I cut her off. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It stinks,” she said. “That’s all I was going to say. The situation with your mom stinks.” She reached for my hand. “I’m here for you if you want to talk about it. Anytime.”

  My lip trembled. “Thanks,” I managed to whisper.

  She hugged me again, then nodded to my cello. “How’s your audition practice coming along, anyway?”

  I groaned. “Don’t ask.”

  Elle held up her hands. “Sorry,” she said. Then, after a few seconds, she added, “Brandon and I are going pumpkin picking with—um, with Daniel. We’re heading out in a little bit. Wanna come? It might make you feel better.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to see him,” I said quietly.

  Elle opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, then closed it, standing up. “Text if you change your mind.” At the stairs, she turned back to me. “How does that saying go? People are always hardest on the ones they hate the most.”

  “It’s love,” I corrected her. “People are always hardest on the ones they love the most.”

  “Right. That’s
it.” She blew me a kiss. “Well … good luck practicing.”

  She was down the stairs and out the door before I even caught on to the little mind trick she’d played on me. Well, if she thought I was being too hard on Daniel, she was wrong. I burrowed under the covers again. I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. No way.

  “Ms. Durand.” Maestro Claudio was leaning over my music stand. “Where is your head?”

  “I—I’m sorry.” I lifted my bow to the strings of my cello, preparing to run through the three measures I’d been struggling with. “I’m ready now.”

  “No.” In the maestro’s frown, I saw the truth I already felt in my heart. I’d felt it this weekend each time I picked up my cello, only to find my fingers slipping, my bow screeching unearthly howls instead of heavenly music. I wasn’t ready. Not for this early-Monday-morning practice session, and certainly not for Thursday’s Interlochen audition. “Ms. Durand,” the maestro continued now, “I am deeply concerned about your performance. I wonder if you understand the gravity of your situation.”

  I nodded miserably. “My audition is Thursday.”

  “Indeed. The audition will not go well if you do not fix this problem.” He tapped his baton against his palm. “You emailed me last night, asking for help fine-tuning your audition pieces. This”—he tapped the music on my stand with his baton—“is not fine-tuning. This is a screaming banshee.”

  I hung my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” I mumbled. “It’s like I’ve lost the ability to play. It all sounds awful. Maybe … maybe I’m burned out.”

  “Do not utter such nonsense in my presence.” He spun away from me in irritation. “For great musicians, there is no such thing as burnout. There is only …” This time, he tapped the baton against his temple. “The musical psyche.” He turned back to me and scrutinized my face. “When the mind is muddled, the playing is muddled.”

  “But—” I was about to tell him my mind wasn’t muddled, then stopped. I knew perfectly well that wasn’t true. I’d spent the entire weekend tormenting myself about Mom, or Daniel, or both. Half the time, I couldn’t even pinpoint what emotions I was feeling; they ranged from devastated to irate and beyond.