“What if I get all As?”
“No.”
“What if I do even better on the SATs when I take them again?”
“No.”
“What if I never get a ticket of any kind—parking, speeding, reckless driving… nothing at all for six months?”
“That should be the case anyhow,” my mom says.
“Please, Mom. Work with me here.”
“No.”
“Is that your favorite word?” I snap. “I can’t believe you aren’t even considering this. You made up your mind, and that’s it. Nothing will change it.”
“I’m only looking out for your safety.”
“I can and will drive safely.”
“And that is exactly right. You can and will drive safely. In a car.”
“What do you have against motorcycles?” I cry.
“What do you have against being alive?”
“I won’t die on a motorcycle.”
“No one knows when or how they will die, but you are right. You won’t die on a motorcycle. Not one that you are driving or one that you’re riding.”
“What?” I screech. “Billy—”
“You aren’t to go on his motorcycle anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Be happy I’m not saying you can’t be friends with him.”
“You don’t even know him,” I protest.
“I know his father works with yours,” she says. “It might be in your best interests to stay away from him.”
“Unreal! You won’t let me have a motorcycle, and now, you’re trying to control who my friends are? He’s not a bad guy!”
“Exactly so. He’s not a bad guy. That doesn’t make him a good one.”
My mom and I really get into it after that, yelling at each other.
She had been right about Billy. He and Katie went out. After a few months, Billy tried to go further than Katie wanted, so she kneed him. That was when I suggested she started to train karate with me.
After I told my mom about what happened and how fun it had been to train with Katie, the next morning, there was a motorcycle in front of our three-car garage.
Mom herself had bought it for me. I wasn’t sure why she changed her mind, but we never fought again, not even a tiny thing. Everything she asked of me, I did it.
But the same went for my father.
And I thought my mom hated that.