CAPPS hired Celia on Wednesday. That gave her four days to pack and get to Austin.
Sure, no problem! What's unreasonable about that? She chuckled at the irony. The relocation package included a two-week hotel stay, alleviating her immediate need for a place to lay her head. They had gotten her a room at the Marriott downtown near the Lyndon B. Johnson Building.
She had boxed up all her clothes, accessories, photos, and more. Taking into consideration the remainder of her dreary apartment, she narrowed it down to taking the bed, the kitchen stuff, and a few odds and ends. She hated the couch; memories of Rod sprawled out, scratching himself, ruined her attachment to it. She took the small flat screen from the bedroom and the petite table it sat on. She had no doubt that it would all fit in the back of the truck, another sad reminder of her pathetic life. Rod could keep the rest of the crap, including the 65" flat screen. God knows the stink he would put up if she took his beloved TV.
Once she had finished packing, she looked around at the nearly empty apartment and sighed. Most everything that had been in this place had now been packed up, leaving only the ratty sofa and the TV. Another harsh reminder of how empty her life with Rod had turned out to be.
Celia had been nervous about how to tell Rod until she realized that she didn't have to tell him anything. She sent him a text, I'm out of the apartment on Saturday. Rent is paid through the end of the month unless you want to extend, that's up to you. Anything left here is yours. You'll get the divorce papers soon. Just sign and send them back. Simple. Key will be over the door.
On Friday, Celia had dinner with her parents. She took them to Macaroni Grill, which she knew they loved, hoping to put them in a good mood.
She sat in the waiting area of the restaurant and dropped her head back against the wall. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath of air. A moment of Zen prior to seeing her mother always helped smooth the way.
Inside, her mind raced. She had rehearsed the conversation, knowing what was coming—her mother's sharp condemnations, her father's quiet concern. Would they see the changes in her, or just the mistakes? She tried to steady herself, remembering that she was no longer the uncertain daughter who needed their approval. This was her life now, her choices, her new beginning. Still, the old anxiety lingered, the familiar knot in her stomach. She pictured her mother's critical gaze, her father's well-meaning jokes, and braced herself for the emotional gauntlet ahead.
Just breathe, you've survived worse. You're in control.
She heard her mother's voice before she saw her.
"Valerie. What did you do to your hair? Why is it all streaky like that? And so short?"
Opening her eyes, she exhaled.
Here we go.
"Hi, Mom, how ya doing?" She gave her mom a sideways hug.
Obstinately judgmental and forever pessimistic were Priscilla's main attributes. Every conversation with her mother felt like a test she was destined to fail, no matter how carefully she prepared. The weight of old criticisms pressed on her, echoing in her mind: "Why didn't you see this coming? Why didn't you do better?" She wondered if her mother ever noticed the effort it took just to show up, to keep trying despite the constant barrage of doubt.
If it's not one thing, it's your mother.
Still, beneath the frustration, Celia felt a stubborn resolve. She was determined to prove—to herself, if not to her mother—that she could weather the storm and carve out a life on her own terms. Tonight, she reminded herself, she wouldn't let pessimism win. She would face the judgments, absorb what she must, deflect the rest, and keep moving forward.
"Did you do that on purpose or did your hairdresser make a mistake?" her mom continued.
Celia feigned a smile. "I put our names in. They should be ready for us in a minute."
Pris looked her daughter up and down. "So, where have you been hiding?
We've hardly seen you since your birthday. How's Rod? Is he still working? You know, if he applied himself more, he'd do better. Is he really skilled, though? I mean, he did that work on the back porch for us that time, and I had to have someone come in and fix the whole thing. I told you about that, right?"
Celia frowned, "Yeah, I think you mentioned it." The hostess yelled from the podium. "Barlow, party of three."
"That's us." Celia indicated to her parents that they should follow the stout gal holding the three menus.
Once they were seated, the busboy asked if they would like water. Priscilla asked, "What kind do you have? I don't want that fizzy stuff with all the bubbles. Just get me good old tap water, and I'll be fine."
The busboy replied, "Sure. How 'bout the rest of ya's? Tap okay?" Celia and Coltrane nodded, and off he went.
Pris broached the elephant in the room right off, "So, to what do we owe such a fancy dinner? We were wondering what's going on with you. I imagine you have something unpleasant to tell us. It's always the same with you. We only see you when you need something, or you have bad news."
As though there couldn't possibly be any other reason I'd want to see you.
"And you wonder why I stay away," Celia said under her breath. "What? Speak up." Pris said.
"Nothing. As a matter of fact, I do have news." Celia started. Pris interrupted. "I knew it. What's wrong now? Do you need money?
What?"
Holding his wife's hand, Coltrane said, "Now, stop jumping to conclusions, Pris. Hear the girl out. There'll be time after to start rending garments." He threw Celia a sly smile.
Celia's mother was very much a Southern Baptist; in keeping with that, complete disaster was the expected outcome of every situation.
Pris took a sip of water and asked, "So, what's this news? It's always something with you." Celia could see in her eyes that she was expecting 9/11.
Reaching out and taking each of their hands, Celia squeezed, "I need to tell you some things."
A cry escaped Priscilla's lips as her hand flew up to her neck. "Oh, my lord."
Ignoring her outburst, Celia continued, "A lot has happened to me in the last few weeks. First off, Dad, Mom, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear- bitter sarcasm rang in her voice- Rod and I are getting a divorce." Of the few things that might please her parents, this was top of the list.
Colt sat back in his chair with a dubious look on his face. He tilted his head to the left and narrowed his eyes. "Would you care to explain?"
Celia leaned forward and, bubbling with excitement, told them the vanilla version of Rod's story. She left out the more salacious parts, i.e., the boob job and breaking down in public, but they got the highlights. On purpose, she left out the slap; no need for them to know about her embarrassment.
Pris grabbed Celia's hand and brought it to her lips, "I always said he was no good. Why you didn't listen to me is a wonder."
Celia sloughed off the reprisal, "Mom, this is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Rod has been dragging me down for years. Once I got my degree, it was over. He couldn't keep up. He could barely look at me; much less be a husband." She talked in the code that married Southern Baptist women used when referring to sex.
"I haven't been this relieved in years," Celia confessed.
Priscilla's judgment fell like the hammer of Thor, "I knew you'd fail in that marriage. I don't know what you saw in him to begin with. I hated having to spend that money on a wedding that I knew would never last."
Celia cut in, "Mom, we eloped. You didn't spend anything on the wedding."
Pris stuttered, "Well, we certainly threw you that reception when you got back. Remember, Colt? We had all those people over to the house. They all knew it, too. It was obvious that you'd made a huge mistake."
Coltrane leaned in, ignoring his wife, and took his daughter's hand. "I'm sorry that you thought I'd be happy about this. You know I only ever wanted the best for you." He gave her hand a squeeze and sat back, "And, it seems on one hand, I am so sorry that you have to go through this. I only wished for you to be happy. On the other hand, I'm not going to miss 'ol Dick Rod. I have to be honest." He let out a sad chuckle.
Celia smiled at her dad. It was written all over his face how much he wanted to ease her pain. I guess no one wants to see their kids fail at anything. Thank God for her dad.
She smiled warmly at Colt.
"So, a couple more things?" Celia continued.
Pris tightened up again, her hand thudding to the table. "Oh my God, Valerie, what is wrong with you?"
Ignoring her, Celia continued, "I was at work a while back and found out Dog was blocking my chances of a promotion 'cause he didn't want to train a new assistant... so I quit."
Colt threw his hands up while Pris clutched her throat. "Oh, mother of God," Pris cried.
Colt leaned forward and accentuated each word as he said, "What? You get divorced and quit your job in the same week? Are you crazy?"
"Actually, it was within about twelve hours but..."
"What are you going to do now?" Colt asked with grave concern.
Pris blurted out, "Dumping that awful man is one thing, but you have to look out for yourself now. How are you going to do that if you're out of work?"
Coltrane looked at Pris, and Celia saw them exchange a look of recognition. They were thinking the same thing.
Pris blurted out, "You want to move back home, right? That's what this is all about?" Pris took a quick intake of air as she tried to adjust to the absurdity of the idea, "Well, we have the guest room, I suppose, but I use it every day for my yoga, and you can't stay for long. We're rather set in our ways after all this time."
Colt nodded in agreement. "We love you, baby, but you're almost forty. You can't be moving back with the folks."
A shocked laugh burst out of Celia. "Oh, God no!" She threw herself back in her chair, drawing her hands to the side of her head. "That is not where this is going." She laughed again, shuddering at the thought of moving in with her parents. "No, please, let's just take that off the table." Celia's head shook back and forth in a shudder. "It just so happened that there was an opening in HR..."
Pris interjected, "Honey, don't get your hopes up."
Celia glared at her mom, "Let me finish, please. This job would utilize my degree and experience, and two days ago... I got it."
Coltrane let out a sigh of relief while Pris just dropped her head and made the sign of the cross. "How do you know that? Are you sure they aren't still thinking about it?"
Undeterred, Celia continued, "It's a supervising analyst position, and it pays thirty percent more than I was making with Dog." Coltrane nodded approval.
Pris, unable to comprehend what her daughter was saying, said, "Supervising? How are you qualified to supervise anyone? You just split from your husband and quit your steady job?"
Celia froze. She could either walk away, slap her ignorant mother, or do her mental countdown to ten. She clenched her fists and counted her fingers.
With precise caution, and now enjoying this more than she probably should, she said, "One catch, though, and Mom, you're going to have something to say about this one: it's in Austin."
Pris almost came out of her chair. "Austin? Austin! You're moving to Austin?" Her face filled with hurt and betrayal.
Celia had expected some resistance but hadn't anticipated actual compassion from her mother. "Mom, it's Austin. It's three hours away. I'll still be back for the holidays and weekends. I'll take advantage of that generous offer to use the guest room. It'll be fine."
Coltrane tugged at Pris' arm, and she sat back.
"But you don't even know anyone there. Who's going to look after you?"
"Mom! Stop."
God, does she think I'm twelve?
"I don't need anyone to look after me." Celia's lack of patience surfaced. Changing the subject, Colt said, "Damn, girl, you've had a busy week. You must be exhausted. I'm gonna order some wine to celebrate. The stuff out of a bottle, not that swill you guzzle at home." Coltrane waved over the waiter.
Pris was still processing the situation. "So you're just going to pick up and move. It's not that easy, you know. There are a lot of things you have to deal with."
Celia smirked and said, "Tell me about it."
She could already hear her mother heading down the 'perils of moving' path and didn't need to hear it. She diverted the conversation.
"One last thing. I'm changing my name."
Pris moaned, "Well, I would hope so. You can't keep that awful man's name if you split up."
Colt asked, "You mean going back to Barlow from Stewart, right?" Celia was relieved he understood that part; it would make it easier. "Yes, to the Barlow part. But I'm also going to take great-great-grandma's name, Cordelia, Celia for short. So, I'll be Celia Barlow from now on. I understand it'll take some practice, but at least it's a name you're used to."
Priscilla gasped. "But... that's the name we gave you."
Celia gave her mom a sympathetic glance. "Yes. Yes, it is." She reached out for Pris's hand. "But Valerie just isn't me anymore, Mom. I'm my own woman, and it's time I took that control. I know I'll always be Valerie to you, but I've outgrown her."
For the first time ever, Celia saw her mother speechless.
After a moment of silence, Colt said, "Okay, honey. We understand, I think. Just don't be mad at us if we slip up once in a while. We've called you the same name for almost forty years. It'll take some time."
Pris's head went from side to side with defined purpose. "Not me. I'm not doing it. It's stupid. I named you Valerie, and that's what I'm gonna call you. Too damn bad if you don't like it." Pris turned away and stared toward the entrance.
"Whatever," Celia said, knowing how to pick her battles. She mentally granted her mom a pass on the name change. "I know this'll be tough." Celia smiled at her mom, and it calmed the moment a tad.
The waiter arrived with the bottle of wine and popped the cork. Splashing a taste into the glass, he handed it to Colt for approval. Colt looked at him and just tilted the neck of the bottle down, letting it spill into his glass. The waiter took the hint and poured for the ladies.
Colt downed the first glass in a gulp. He took a deep breath and said, "Anything else? A secret love-child, joining a commune, are you becoming bilateral or whatever it is?"
Without meaning to, Celia let out a chuckle at her father's mispronunciation.
"Binary, and no, Dad, that's all... Well, one small thing..."
He dropped his head as Pris whipped around to glare at her.
"I start the new job on Monday, so I move to Austin tomorrow. I was wondering if you guys could come over and help me load the truck. I'm not taking a lot, but some of it I need help with."
Coltrane chuckled; the relief he felt was obvious. Loading a truck; that was something he could wrap his head around. "You are full of surprises. What time?"
The waiter came and took their dinner orders. Priscilla was quiet for a few minutes, but after a short while, it seemed that she had adjusted to the news.
"You're going to have to find an apartment, you know. That's a lot of time driving around." Her mother always spoke with such confidence that she sounded as though she knew what she was talking about.
As she did with everything else, she offered advice on finding an apartment and setting up the kitchen. On how to dress for a new job, she'd seen it on Drew Barrymore's show. She even had advice on how to look for a new guy.
Having made it through all of the hard stuff, Celia granted her mother some slack and let her talk. She always found it amazing that her mother had such strong opinions on so many things that she had literally never done. They'd lived in the same house for thirty-six years; Pris had never lived in an apartment, and she had never worked, so what would she know about appropriate clothing for a workplace in the twenty-first century?
Just let her go, you've come out ahead in this one.
Walking out to their cars, they exchanged awkward hugs. Coltrane held her a little longer than usual. He pushed her to arm's length and, with pride in his eyes, squeezed her shoulders. "See you in the morning."
Coltrane and Pris walked hand in hand to their car. Just before Pris got in, she turned back to Celia and said loud enough for the whole world to hear, "And don't think I didn't notice the two things you failed to mention!"
She tilted her head with a coy, sarcastic smile and got into the car. They pulled out of the lot, and Colt honked twice to say goodbye.
That was so like her mother: observe but never comment on something like a boob job.
Climbing into her truck, Celia felt pleased with how the evening had gone. Considering the possibilities, it could have ended far worse. She started the truck and headed home.
Along the way, she passed Tequila Barb's and had a change of heart. A nostalgic one-last-look visit seemed in order.