“A gang or a club. Yes. We have a name for ourselves.”
“What’s your club’s name?” I ask, preferring club to gang any day of the week.
“Thunder Crows.”
“Wow.” My jaw drops. I’m so impressed. “But why do you have to work so hard? Can’t you stay at home more?”
“I work so hard so that you can have everything you want in life, and instead, you just complain and want more. I can’t win,” he grumbles.
“You can win. You have won. I don’t need anything that money can buy.”
“That’s all I can afford to give you.”
“So you can’t come in?”
“Why not ask your mother?”
I hang my head. My mom just stays at home. What would she be able to talk about? I don’t even know why she can’t work, why she can’t get a job. There’s nothing for her to do around the house when I’m at school.
“I’ll talk to her,” I mutter.
I don’t finish the rest of my breakfast. The pancakes are soggy by now, and I can’t stand when they taste like mush.
I hurry from the table and find my mom in her room, putting on the last bit of her makeup.
“Are you all ready for school?” she asks.
I nod. “Can you come with me for Career Day?”
“Is that today?”
I nod again, not getting my hopes up.
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t know what to talk about.”
I wince. That’s what I feared, but I don’t dare say that out loud.
“I wish… I’ve wanted to return to work since you started school, but…”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I wish I could just do whatever I want, but when you get married, it’s a partnership. The big decisions have to be made together. Your father doesn’t want me to work, so I don’t.”
“But that’s not a partnership. That’s him telling you what to do. Why not talk to him? Tell him how much you want to work?”
“Any job I work won’t bring in a lot of money,” my mom says. “Would it be worth it to take time away from my family for such a little pay?”
“What job do you want?” I ask.
“I’ve always wanted to work in a flower shop,” she says softly, her entire face lightening. She looks so beautiful.
“Why not work in a flower shop then?” I ask, nodding as if the decision is final.
“That’s not how it works,” she protests. “Even if your father says I could, I would have to try to find one that is hiring and beat out the other applicants. There’s a process to everything. You’ll learn that.”
“Well, I think the kids in my class would like to hear about a flower shop more than about a motorcycle club.”
“He told you,” she whispers, sounding horrified.