The Pause
The heavy wooden door groans open, ushering in a gust of cold air and two women of similar build. Closer inspection suggests they are mother and daughter.
“Hi, Violet. We’re just here for some hot chocolate,” the mother addresses the owner. “Can we take the little table in the corner?”
“Of course. No school this morning? What’s the occasion?”
“We’re just…taking a minute,” the mother responds. The girl, a young teen, sinks her face into her winter coat, hiding the splotchy cheeks and red eyes that betray recently shed tears. They arrange themselves at the table, shedding layers and shifting chairs. Violet delivers two mugs of steaming hot chocolate topped with mountains of whipped cream.
“Thank you.” The mother smiles, though her concern-filled eyes stay on her daughter.
It is a quiet Monday at the diner. Only three tables and one counter seat are occupied. Christmas music plays over the speaker, but not loudly enough to cover the conversations taking place; stories of Thanksgiving, of work, of travel.
The mother reaches for her daughter’s hands across the table. The daughter reluctantly reaches back.
“Tell me what’s going on, love.”
“I don’t know,” the girl nearly sobs.
“What has triggered this?”
“I don’t know, I just felt like today was going to be crappy, and then my make-up….”
I try not to listen as the mother calmly tells her daughter that this is normal. There are changes going on in her teenager’s brain that make her emotions run out of control. She heard it on a podcast a few weeks ago. It’s going to be ok. The daughter, without lowering her voice, laments periods, school, toxic girl friendships, and anxiety about the demands of young cousins at a family gathering.
“How does it feel when you’re in loud, chaotic situations?” I hear the mother ask.
“Like I want to hide.”
They continue as I am drawn back into conversation at my own table, but over the next hour, snippets of their exchange reach my ears.
The mother asks, “How much money do you have? I didn’t bring my purse to drop you off.”
I hear the girl say, “I’m getting fat.”
The mother gasps. “No. What matters is if you are healthy. Healthy people come in all different shapes and sizes. There are big folks who are healthy and there are skinny folks who are not. Girls at your age start fixating on this stuff. It’s ridiculous. Nothing good comes of it.”
“I do eat too much cheese.”
“Yes, you do.”
They are smiling, now. The girl’s body has relaxed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Do I have to go to school now?”
“No, let’s go home. We’ll take a mental health day. I wish we’d had those when I was a kid.”
“Thanks, mom. Here’s some money. I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Ok.”
The girl exits the diner in another blast of cold air as the mother, shaking her head, pulls a crumpled wad of money from the sparkly sock she’s been handed. When she hears the door pulled shut, she closes her eyes, inhales through her nose, and exhales, the air whooshing out of her mouth, her cheeks puffing up, her shoulders dropping from her ears. She pauses for a moment, eyes still closed, then begins to flatten dollar bills on the table.
“What do I owe you, Violet?”
“It’s on the house,” Violet says, and I know I’m not the only one who’s been listening.