Born Regal

ANYA

“Run it by me one more time. What exactly did he say?”

My mom, Petunia, let out a girlish giggle, her frizzy orange hair bouncing as she moved around the kitchen, making us tea. It was a cold night, but she always said the night she found me was the coldest she’d ever experienced in New York.

Technically, since she found me, Petunia was my adoptive mom. But I never saw it that way. She’d been my mom from the moment she pulled me out of a dumpster, something not many people would do.

She was small, with a crooked nose, the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and a pair of mismatched eyes—one brown, one blue.

Everything about her was a little odd. Someone once compared her to a leprechaun because of the patches she sewed onto our second-hand clothes. But as she always said, one person’s trash was another person’s treasure.

And that didn’t just apply to clothes.

“Alright, so I served him his pancakes. He had his badge on, and I asked if he needed anything else. And…” Her cheeks turned pink as she reached for the honey, fanning herself with her free hand.

“And?” I urged, leaning forward over the counter, eager for the rest of the story.

She giggled again, swaying a little. “I think I still need your number, ma’am,” she mimicked in a deep voice, glancing over her shoulder and fluttering her eyelashes. We both burst into laughter.

Once she’d set my tea in front of me and I’d wiped the tears from my eyes, I asked, “So, does that mean he’s going to call you?”

“Well, he kind of hung around after my shift, so we sat and talked for a bit…” She trailed off, blushing at the memory of their conversation.

“So that’s why you weren’t home before I went to bed!” I exclaimed, setting my mug down and covering my mouth for dramatic effect. She’d been out late, but not unusually so. I knew I was just teasing her with my next comment.

“Mom, you didn’t go home with him, did you?”

Our conversations about men and sex were probably a lot different from those most girls had with their moms.

I was a bit of a late bloomer in that department, mostly because I was picky about guys. None of them lived up to the ones in the dating sims I played or the romance novels I read once puberty hit.

Thanks to my mom’s sex ed, I knew more about sex and the consequences of unsafe sex than most kids my age.

As for my own experiences, I could count them on one hand. The last one was just before I left for Oregon.

I wasn’t keeping score, but I’d hoped for more experience before heading off to college. I didn’t want to fall for some jerk just because I was dazzled by what he could do in bed—and risk messing up my studies.

My mom and I hadn’t really talked about that, though it had been on my mind for weeks.

I wasn’t about to ask her for dating advice.

My last so-called boyfriend, who I’d slept with, had cheated on me with his neighbor three days before graduation. I found out when I walked in on them, planning to surprise him with a hotel room for the night after prom. It was a bit of a blow.

But then I realized it was a clean break. While he kept trying to call or text, I was about to fly across the country. I might be gone for years before I came back.

While I was here, I had to keep to myself. Things could change. I had a whole future ahead of me, a whole life that could be different from the one I’d grown up in.

My mom nearly choked on her tea, not expecting me to jump to that conclusion. “No! No, I didn’t go home with him! We just talked, and now I have a date tomorrow night.”

I was as shy as she was, so I understood how proud she was of herself for not only talking to a guy but also getting a date with him. She was my role model when it came to romance novels, dating advice, nutrition advice, and pretty much everything else in life.

Even though our tastes were different—I was more into fantasy novels while she preferred historical fiction.

“Tomorrow night? So, I can order takeout and pig out without you judging me for the way I eat my noodles?” I asked, tapping my chin with a smirk.

“You mean stuff your face like a monster?” she retorted, giving me a stern look.

“I’m not worried about my figure. I’m going into game design. I’ll be a hermit in a basement, living off noodles,” I argued, grinning. She knew I was just joking.

We were both health nuts, except for the occasional takeout. My mom worked extra hours at the store downstairs to make sure we always had organic produce, and the only tea we drank was loose leaf.

I wasn’t bad looking; I was a size sixteen and five-eight, with a bit of extra weight from lack of exercise. My skin could use more sun, my hair was a dull brown with a hint of frizz, and my eyes were a plain blue-gray.

Sometimes, I wondered what life would have been like at a better-funded school or in a less crowded place. But I was lucky to have been dumped in New York’s chaos with a woman who could have left me at an adoption agency.

And I was forever grateful that she didn’t.

My mom let out a sigh, her eyes rolling in exasperation. “Alright, go ahead and order in. Spend your summer earnings however you want. Waste it all on video games for all I care. Just don’t come crying to me when you need more money for food at college.”

Oregon City wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, so the chances of me blowing through all the money I’d saved over the years seemed slim. Besides, I was more than capable of earning more while juggling school.

I had a knack for technology. A few free gigs and some smooth talking to the older folks in the neighborhood, and I’d have a steady stream of work.

There were always odd jobs around too, like sign spinning or food delivery, though I was still one car short.

“You wouldn’t let me starve,” I shot back, knowing full well I’d probably never ask her for money unless I was on the brink of dumpster diving. “So, if you bring him over, do I call him ‘dad’ or ‘officer’?”

“You’re impossible! Go find your own love life.”

“I tried. Didn’t work out so well,” I retorted, attempting to keep the gloom out of my voice, but my tone betrayed me.

“Is Aaron still texting you?”

I nodded, my frown deepening. “He keeps apologizing and asking to meet for coffee before I leave.”

“Starbucks or Andwellas?” my mom probed, her eyes filled with suspicion that I might cave.

“Starbucks.” I rolled my eyes. Andwellas was my favorite coffee shop, known for its fresh teas. It was probably just as pricey as Starbucks, but Aaron thought it was odd.

“Well, he can’t be that sorry then,” she concluded, finishing her coffee. “Do you think you’ll get involved with anyone at college?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, rolling my eyes and grinning.

“I don’t know. It’d be nice. You keep telling me that guys in books can actually be like that in bed, but it sounds like you’re making it up.”

“Can we not discuss the steamy parts of the books? We’re talking about you actually spending time with someone other than your online friends, who probably won’t even notice your absence, given their own lives.”

I sighed, shaking my head with a smile.

I wasn’t sure how I’d manage without her once I moved into the dorms. I already knew I’d be one of those girls who called their mom every night. I didn’t care if it made me look lame. I loved my mom.

“I’ll get a life, and I’ll even try to attend all those social events. I’ll probably be so busy I’ll forget to call you.”

“Oh, very funny, forgetting to call your mother. Don’t even joke about that,” she warned, pointing her spoon at me. “Just make sure if you go to Changs, do it before dark. Before sunset.”

“I’m an adult now, mom. I can handle walking a few blocks.”

“Not at night and not in the city.” Her voice was firm, the icy undertone sending a shiver down my spine.

My mom wasn’t overly superstitious. Sure, she tossed salt over her shoulder when she spilled it, but she thought sage smelled awful and voodoo dolls were for lunatics.

She didn’t believe in things like vampires, witches, or ghosts.

But she was convinced that something sinister was out there, something that had wanted to harm me the day she found me.

She believed that if she hadn’t arrived when she did, something would have taken me away forever. The thought of me being out in the dark still made her uneasy. I was nineteen and still had a nightlight.

“Alright, alright. But you’ll have to relax when I’m in Oregon. I heard they have lake parties and bonfires.”

She frowned, not responding. I knew how she felt about the subject, but I couldn’t stay cooped up indoors at night forever. It’s not like there was a boogeyman waiting to snatch me away.