Mother Ate My Future / Chapter 2: Bakery Showdown
Mother Ate My Future

Mother Ate My Future

Author: Stephanie Brown

Chapter 2: Bakery Showdown

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My mom dragged me out for a walk, and I really didn't want to go.

She gripped my elbow with her painted nails, steering me out the front door before I could even pull on a hoodie. The sun was bright and cold—one of those days where the Midwest wind cut right through your jeans. All I wanted was to sprawl on the couch, binge Netflix, and eat microwaved mac and cheese in peace.

"I finally have a day off, Mom. Can't I just chill at home for once?"

I flopped onto the porch swing, trying to look pathetic enough to win some sympathy. But Mom was on a mission. She always was.

My mom rolled her eyes. "Rest? You're always so busy with school, and now that you finally have a day to spend with me and show some appreciation, you don't want to?"

She said it loud, just in case Mrs. Parker next door was eavesdropping from her porch. Nothing gets my mom going like performing for an audience. She loved to act like I was the worst daughter in town, right in earshot of half our block.

As soon as she said that, I got nervous. I was afraid she'd go gossip to the neighbors again, so I had no choice but to reluctantly follow her out. Last time, she said I was ungrateful, and the rumors spread all over school. I couldn't show my face that whole semester.

I still had nightmares about that. The PTA moms would cluck their tongues and say, "Bless her heart, she must be going through something at home." All because my mom couldn't keep her mouth shut for one afternoon. I could practically see the rumor mill revving up the minute we left the driveway.

But I still underestimated my mom—she actually had something else planned. We walked all the way down Main Street, past all the food trucks and snack stands. Whenever we passed a stall she usually liked, I'd tug at her: "Mom, aren't you going to eat something?"

Main Street was alive with the usual Saturday energy: lawnmower engines, kids on skateboards, and the smell of funnel cake drifting from the corner food truck. I tugged at her sleeve whenever we passed a vendor she usually drooled over, hoping maybe we could just get this over with.

Her eyes darted around, like she was up to something. "Don't want to eat, no appetite."

She said it all nonchalant, but I could practically see her nose twitching as she scanned the air for anything sugary. I knew that look—she was hunting.

Ha! She actually had times when she wasn't hungry? Maybe she ate so much earlier in life that karma finally caught up to her? I didn't ask more and just followed behind.

I rolled my eyes and trailed after her, kicking at the gravel. The last time she turned down food was never. Part of me almost hoped she really had lost her appetite, just to see what that would look like.

I saw a new bakery had opened on the right. There were flower arrangements lined up in front of the door. A huge sign read: [Grand Opening Special, 40% Off Everything].

The whole storefront looked like something out of a Hallmark movie—potted mums, big bows, a shiny red balloon arch. The sweet, warm smell poured out onto the sidewalk, wrapping everyone up in a cinnamon hug. A row of glazed donuts glistened in the case, and the cash register sat next to a tip jar stuffed with crumpled singles.

My mom tilted her head and stopped at the entrance, refusing to go further: "40% off, that's so cheap."

She pinched the sign between her thumb and finger, squinting like she was reading a secret code. I knew right then—this wasn't going to end well. Cheap deals were her personal siren song.

I started to get anxious. My dad has to go on business trips every month, and before he leaves he gives me a month's allowance all at once. Our family is just average, maybe even less well-off than most. So even though I board at high school, my allowance is only $40 a month. Food, clothes, and daily needs are always tight, and anything extra is a stretch. But my mom always manages to squeeze some money out of me to satisfy her cravings.

I clutched my wallet tighter. My friends all had Venmo notifications from their parents popping up every week. Not me. When my dad handed over cash, it was with a heavy sigh, as if he was handing over state secrets. $40 had to last through every school lunch, deodorant stick, and trip to the laundromat. If Mom got her way, I'd be living on ramen packets by week two.

Seeing her like this now, I understood immediately. She plucked one of the shop's flowers and stuck it in her hair. Smiling, she waved at me: "Come on, sweetheart, come inside with Mommy and take a look!"

She twirled, the flower bobbing in her curls, already playing the part of the doting mom. I took a deep breath, plastered on a fake smile, and followed her inside, bracing myself for whatever disaster she had planned.

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