This Jinxed Scene- Chapter One: Mommy Dearest

By the time August rolled around, Vivetta had begun to suspect that other people enjoyed summer vacation.

Her friends certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Every time she opened social media, someone was standing in front of a European landmark, lounging by a resort pool, or posing with a group of smiling girls at some expensive summer camp. There were photographs of horseback riding lessons, sailing excursions, and elaborate desserts served in restaurants where the waiters wore jackets.

Vivetta, meanwhile, had spent most of her summer at home.

Her mother, Cami, was busy with another business opportunity.

This one involved vitamin-infused chocolates.

According to the promotional materials, the chocolates combined the nutritional benefits of expensive dietary supplements with the indulgence of premium confectionery. According to Cami, they were going to revolutionize the wellness industry.

Vivetta had heard similar promises about herbal coffee, essential oils, powdered meal replacements, anti-aging face creams, and a subscription service that supposedly allowed ordinary people to purchase luxury vacations at wholesale prices.

None of those businesses had revolutionized anything.

Most had simply disappeared, taking whatever money Cami had invested in them along for the ride.

Nevertheless, Cami approached every new opportunity with the enthusiasm of someone who had never experienced failure.

On a particularly humid evening in August, Vivetta sat at the dining room table folding cardboard gift boxes while her mother arranged samples of the vitamin chocolates into little decorative bags.

"Everybody else got to do something this summer," Vivetta complained.

Cami didn't look up.

"That's nice, honey."

"I mean, everybody. Chloe went to France. Madison went to that performing arts camp in California. Even Megain went to Florida."

"Well, good for Megain."

"Mom, are you even listening?"

"Of course I'm listening."

Cami held up two ribbons, considering them.

"Do you think the gold looks more expensive than the silver?"

Vivetta stared at her.

"I think the gold looks like something you get at the dollar store."

"Vivetta!"

"Well, it does."

Cami dropped the ribbons onto the table.

"That attitude isn't going to get you very far in life. You have to learn to appreciate what you have instead of comparing yourself to everybody else."

Vivetta looked around the dining room.

There were shipping boxes stacked against the wall, a folding table covered with promotional brochures, and a large plastic banner advertising the chocolates as The Sweetest Way to Wellness!

"All I have is a bunch of boxes to fold."

"You have a roof over your head, food in the refrigerator, and a mother who works very hard to provide for you."

Vivetta had learned that there was no satisfactory response to this particular argument.

If she agreed, her mother considered the matter settled.

If she disagreed, she was ungrateful.

Instead, she folded another box.

Cami's phone rang.

"Oh! That's probably Denise!"

She answered immediately, her voice changing into the bright, enthusiastic tone she reserved for prospective customers.

"Denise! Hi, gorgeous! I was just thinking about you!"

Cami wandered into the living room, leaving Vivetta surrounded by cardboard.

An hour later, she reappeared long enough to announce that she had an early meeting and was going to bed.

"Finish those up for me, would you, sweetheart? I need them ready tomorrow."

Vivetta looked at the unfinished stack.

"All of them?"

"You're such a big help."

Cami kissed the top of her head and disappeared down the hallway before Vivetta could

answer.

The house grew quiet.

Vivetta propped her phone against a box and opened a video her friend Madison had posted from dance camp.

A dozen girls were laughing together in a brightly lit studio. Someone was trying to teach another girl a complicated dance step while the others cheered.

Madison had captioned the video:

Best summer EVER!!! Never want to leave these girls!

Vivetta watched it twice.

Then she folded another box.

Vivetta had become her mother's unofficial assistant so gradually that neither of them could have identified when it started.

By middle school, she was expected to answer business calls, organize promotional materials, prepare sample packages, and occasionally accompany Cami to sales events where she was introduced as her mother's little business partner.

The title sounded impressive.

The work was not.

Cami was forever discovering the opportunity that would finally make them rich. She joined companies with elaborate compensation structures, motivational slogans, and charismatic founders who promised financial independence to anyone willing to believe in themselves.

Eventually, the products stopped selling, the company reorganized, or the founder vanished behind a cloud of accusations and unpaid commissions.

Cami would spend several weeks complaining about having been betrayed.

Then she would discover something new.

Their finances followed a similarly predictable pattern. There were occasional months when Cami earned enough to celebrate with restaurant dinners and unnecessary purchases. These were followed by longer stretches of unpaid bills, returned merchandise, and conversations about how successful people had to make sacrifices.

They weren't poor enough to qualify for much assistance, but they were never financially

secure enough to stop worrying.

Vivetta had learned not to ask which bills were overdue.

She had also learned not to invite people over.

Cami considered every visitor a potential customer.

If Vivetta brought home a friend, Cami would inevitably appear with samples of whatever product she was promoting. If the friend seemed interested, Cami would ask for her mother's telephone number.

If the friend didn't seem interested, Cami would ask anyway.

Vivetta had learned the consequences of this behavior in second grade.

Her elementary school had organized an event called Morning with Mom, during which mothers were invited to bring snacks and participate in the class's regular morning reading circle.

Vivetta had been thrilled.

She imagined sitting beside her mother while the teacher read aloud, sharing cookies and perhaps having Cami meet the mothers of the girls she wanted to befriend.

Cami arrived twenty minutes late.

She carried no snacks.

Instead, she brought a canvas tote bag full of brochures advertising a vacation subscription website.

The other mothers had brought fruit trays, miniature muffins, and homemade pastries. Cami surveyed the refreshments with visible disapproval.

"Oh, goodness," she announced. "That's a lot of sugar for this early in the morning."

One mother explained that the muffins were homemade.

"Well, homemade doesn't necessarily mean healthy."

Vivetta wished she could disappear beneath her desk.

Things got worse when Cami began distributing brochures.

The website supposedly allowed subscribers to book luxury vacations at discounted rates, although the actual savings were difficult to understand and seemed to depend heavily on recruiting additional members.

Cami cornered one mother beside the classroom bookshelves and explained how she could earn commissions simply by encouraging friends to join.

Another mother politely declined.

Cami persisted.

By the time the teacher approached her, several parents were visibly uncomfortable.

"Mrs. Maddox," the teacher said quietly, "could I speak with you for a moment?"

Cami smiled as though she had just been offered a business opportunity.

The teacher led her into the hallway.

Vivetta couldn't hear everything, but she heard enough.

"...not appropriate to solicit parents during school activities..."

"...pyramid schemes..."

"...I'll have to ask you to leave if it happens again."

Cami emerged looking furious.

She gathered her brochures, marched out of the classroom, and left without saying goodbye.

Vivetta spent the remainder of the morning sitting alone while the other children shared snacks with their mothers.

For weeks afterward, Cami complained that the teacher had humiliated her.

She never asked how Vivetta had felt.

The incident seemed to follow Vivetta through the rest of elementary school.

The invitations to birthday parties and sleepovers gradually stopped coming. Whether the other mothers disliked Cami, distrusted her business ventures, or simply didn't want to be bothered, Vivetta couldn't say.

The only girl who continued inviting her over was Megain Hartford.

Megain's mother, who was a naive, yet overfunded divorcee who had a fondness for anything promising quick money, was one of Cami's most dependable customers. She had purchased nutritional shakes, skincare subscriptions, and several boxes of products she never opened.

Megain herself was not particularly pleasant company.

She forever had a thick streak of dried hair gel coating her temples back into her pulled-too-tight ponytail, broke every one of Vivetta's toys, and complained about everything Vivetta said even when she was agreeing with her.

Her house was large, immaculate, and furnished almost entirely in white.

During sleepovers, Vivetta was required to sleep on the floor because Megain's mother didn't want children putting wrinkles in the white leather couch.

After the third sleepover, Vivetta stopped accepting invitations.

It was easier to stay home.

Her father wasn't much of an alternative.

Keith lived on the other side of the country, where he worked as a traveling oil pipeline maintenance technician. His work took him from one job site to another, sometimes for weeks at a time.

Vivetta's parents had separated before she was born, and she had grown up regarding her father as a distant relative who occasionally called to ask about her grades.

She was supposed to spend every other summer with him.

In practice, those visits were inconsistent.

Keith's work schedule frequently changed, and he had a habit of accepting assignments without considering what arrangements he had already made.

When he was unavailable, Vivetta was sent to stay with his mother, Dee-Gee.

Dee-Gee believed that children with spare time were children preparing to become criminals.

Her solution was work.

There were weeds to pull, cupboards to scrub, shelves to reorganize, and mysterious household projects that appeared to exist solely to prevent anyone from sitting down.

Dee-Gee lived in a trailer that she kept between eighty and eighty-five degrees because air conditioning was expensive and, in her opinion, unnecessary.

The drinking water was always warm.

So was the Diet Cola she stored on a shelf in the carport.

Meals consisted almost exclusively of inexpensive frozen children's dinners, heated in the microwave and served without ceremony.

Vivetta had once eaten the same miniature portion of chicken nuggets, corn, and mashed potatoes for lunch and dinner three days in a row.

By the end of that summer, she couldn't bear to look at the frozen meals in grocery store freezers.

Keith had an older son, Courtney, from a previous relationship with a woman named Tinsley. Courtney lived with Tinsley and her son, Whitney, who had once been Vivetta’s stepbrother. Although Courtney and Vivetta shared the same father, Whitney was not biologically related to her, and their connection through marriage had long since ended. Vivetta rarely saw her half-brother Courtney and knew little about his life.

There was no real sense of family connecting any of them.

After Vivetta told Cami about her last miserable summer with Dee-Gee, her mother readily agreed that she shouldn't have to visit again.

For once, they had agreed on something.

Still, Vivetta sometimes wondered whether Cami's agreement had more to do with concern for her daughter or with resentment toward Keith.

She had never been able to tell.

On the morning of Vivetta's birthday, Cami surprised her.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

Vivetta was standing in the kitchen pouring cereal when her mother swept in carrying a brightly colored greeting card.

Cami hugged her enthusiastically.

"I know this summer hasn't been very exciting for you."

Vivetta looked up.

"You do?"

"Of course I do! I've just been so busy getting this business off the ground. But I was thinking we could do something special tonight."

"What?"

"How about that dinosaur movie you've been talking about?"

Vivetta nearly dropped her spoon.

"Meso-saurous Deaths?"

"That's the one!"

"Really?"

"Really! We'll go tonight. Just you and me."

Vivetta grinned.

The movie had been advertised for months. It was a spectacularly gruesome dinosaur horror film about genetically modified prehistoric creatures escaping from a research facility and hunting the scientists responsible for creating them.

The trailers were ridiculous.

Vivetta loved them.

She had watched every promotional clip and read enough about the production to know which scenes supposedly involved practical effects rather than computer animation.

"Can we go to the big theater? The one with the reclining seats?"

"We'll see."

"Can we get popcorn?"

"Of course."

Cami kissed her cheek.

"Now, I have a few things to take care of today, but I'll be home in plenty of time. Just make sure your chores are done before I get back."

Vivetta promised they would be.

For the first time all summer, she had something to look forward to.

She spent the day making certain there was absolutely nothing her mother could complain about.

She washed the dishes, vacuumed the living room, wiped down the kitchen counters, and took out the trash.

She even reorganized the promotional materials scattered across the dining room table, placing the vitamin chocolate brochures into neat stacks.

By early afternoon, the house looked better than it had in weeks.

Vivetta showered and washed her hair.

Her grandparents on her mother's side, who lived out of town, had sent her birthday money through an electronic greeting card. She used some of it to order makeup from the local CVS through DoorDash.

The delivery fee seemed outrageous, but she didn't have a car, and there was no one available to take her shopping.

When the little bag arrived, she carried it to her bedroom like a treasure.

She had been experimenting with makeup for several months, mostly by watching tutorials online.

Tonight, she wanted to look older.

Not dramatically older. Just polished enough that she wouldn't feel like a little girl being taken to the movies by her mother.

She carefully applied mascara, a little blush, and a pale pink lip gloss.

Then she brushed her hair until it shone and selected her favorite shirt.

It was a soft blue top she had owned for nearly a year. The color suited her, and she liked the way it looked with her jeans.

By five o'clock, she was ready.

She sat on the couch with her shoes on.

At five-thirty, she checked the movie schedule.

At six, she texted Cami.

What time are you coming home?

Cami replied several minutes later.

Running a little behind! Almost done!

Vivetta checked the showtimes again.

There were still several evening screenings.

She told herself not to worry.

At six-thirty, her stomach began growling.

She hadn't eaten since lunch because she had assumed they would get something at the theater.

She considered making a sandwich but decided to wait.

At seven, she heard the familiar rattle of Cami's old SUV pulling into the driveway.

Vivetta sprang to her feet.

Cami came through the front door carrying three shopping bags, a cardboard display stand, and a stack of promotional flyers.

"Oh, honey, could you help me with these?"

Vivetta took the bags.

"Are we leaving now?"

"Just a second, sweetheart. I have to get a few things out of the car."

Cami hurried back outside.

Vivetta followed her to the driveway.

The back seat of the SUV was piled with sample boxes, gift bags, and promotional materials.

Cami began shifting things around.

"I need to make room for you."

Vivetta watched her mother move a box of chocolates onto the passenger seat, then reconsider and place it in the cargo area.

"Mom, we're going to be late."

"No, we're not. Relax."

Cami finally cleared enough space for Vivetta to sit.

Then she smiled.

"Actually, I was thinking we could stop somewhere first."

Vivetta's excitement faltered.

"Where?"

"There's a restaurant near the theater. I'm meeting a couple of people who might be interested in investing in the business."

Vivetta stared at her.

"Tonight?"

"It's just dinner."

"But it's my birthday."

"And we'll still go to the movie afterward!"

Cami said this with such cheerful certainty that Vivetta almost believed her.

"These people could be very important, honey. If everything works out, this could be the opportunity that changes our lives."

Vivetta had heard that before.

Many times.

She looked toward the house.

"How long is dinner going to take?"

"Not long. An hour, maybe."

Vivetta knew that her mother's business dinners never lasted an hour.

They lasted until the other person either agreed to buy something or found an excuse to leave.

Still, she didn't want to argue.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "But we have to go to the movie afterward."

"Absolutely!"

Vivetta took out her phone.

"Let me check the showtimes."

She opened the theater's website and scrolled.

"The last one starts at nine-fifteen."

"Perfect."

"Mom, it's already after seven."

"We'll be fine."

"But if dinner takes two hours—"

"Vivetta, don't start."

Cami looked her daughter over.

Then her expression changed.

"What's wrong with your shirt?"

Vivetta glanced down.

"What?"

"That hem."

Cami pointed to the bottom of the blue top.

A tiny thread had come loose near the seam.

Vivetta had never noticed it before.

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"It's fraying."

"It's one little thread."

"Well, you can't go to a nice restaurant looking like that."

Vivetta looked at her mother in disbelief.

"Nobody's going to notice."

"I noticed."

"Mom, please. We're already late."

"Go change your shirt."

"But—"

"Vivetta."

Cami's voice sharpened.

"I'm not going to argue with you. Go put on something presentable. I'll wait in the car."

Vivetta felt tears prickling behind her eyes.

She hated how easily her mother could make her feel childish.

Without another word, she went back inside.

In her bedroom, she pulled off the blue shirt and threw it onto the bed.

She stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what would satisfy Cami.

Most of her clothes were ordinary school clothes. She didn't own anything particularly elegant.

Finally, she selected a plain black blouse.

She changed, smoothed her hair, and checked her makeup.

When she returned to the front door, the driveway was empty.

For a moment, she simply stared.

Then she opened the door and stepped outside.

The SUV was gone.

Vivetta looked down the street.

Nothing.

She checked her phone.

No messages.

She called her mother.

The call went to voicemail.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

A minute later, her phone chimed.

Cami had left a voicemail.

Vivetta pressed play.

"Hey, sweetheart! Listen, I was already running so late, and I really couldn't keep these people waiting. You know how important this meeting is. I'm so sorry, honey! We'll do the movie another night, okay? I promise I'll make it up to you. Love you!"

The message ended.

Vivetta stood on the front porch holding her phone.

She listened to it again.

Not because she hadn't understood.

Because she couldn't quite believe what she'd heard.

Her mother had driven away.

On her birthday.

While she was changing the shirt her mother had ordered her to change.

Vivetta looked down at the black blouse.

Then she began to cry.

By eight o'clock, she was sitting alone at the kitchen table.

Her makeup had smeared beneath her eyes, and she had stopped trying to fix it.

She was hungry.

There was little in the refrigerator besides condiments, a half-empty carton of milk, and several containers of vitamin chocolate samples.

In the freezer, Cami had stocked up on inexpensive microwave children's dinners.

Vivetta opened the freezer door and stared at them.

Chicken nuggets.

Corn.

Mashed potatoes.

The sight brought back the oppressive heat of Dee-Gee's trailer, the warm Diet Cola, and the endless afternoons spent scrubbing things that weren't dirty.

She closed the freezer.

She would rather go hungry.

For a while, she sat at the table doing nothing.

Then she opened her contacts and found her father's number.

Keith answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, kiddo."

Vivetta swallowed.

"Hi, Dad."

"Everything okay?"

She almost said yes.

Instead, she asked, "Can I come live with you?"

There was a pause.

"What?"

"Can I come live with you? For school?"

Keith didn't answer immediately.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Vivetta."

She pressed her lips together.

"Mom left me here."

"What do you mean, left you there?"

"She was supposed to take me to a movie for my birthday, but she had a business dinner.

She made me change my shirt, and while I was changing, she drove away."

Keith was quiet.

Then he sighed.

"Well, you know how she gets."

Vivetta waited.

He didn't ask whether she had eaten.

He didn't wish her a happy birthday.

Instead, he said, "You know my place isn't very big, right?"

"I know."

"And I'm not home a whole lot."

"I know."

"I work until the work's done, however long it takes. Most times I'm out of town."

"I can take care of myself."

"You'd have to take the school bus. I'm not going to be able to drive you every morning."

"That's fine."

"And you'd have to make your own dinner most nights. I can't promise I'll be around to cook."

"I can do that."

Keith hesitated.

"I don't want you thinking it'll be some big vacation."

"I don't."

"You'll have to take some initiative. Keep up with your schoolwork. Get yourself where you need to be."

Vivetta looked around the kitchen.

The promotional boxes were still stacked neatly against the wall.

She had spent the afternoon cleaning a house her mother barely noticed.

"I already do all that," she said.

Keith was silent for several seconds.

Finally, he said, "Well, I guess we can make it work."

Vivetta closed her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yeah. We'll have to talk to your mom and get the school situation sorted out, but I don't see why not."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. It's going to be an adjustment."

"I know."

They talked a little longer about school registration and travel arrangements.

When the call ended, Vivetta sat quietly with her phone in her hands.

She didn't feel excited.

She didn't feel relieved.

She felt strangely empty.

Then she sent her mother a text.

Dad called and said he wants me to come live with him this school year. He said he'll arrange everything.

It wasn't exactly true.

Keith hadn't called her.

He hadn't suggested the arrangement.

But Vivetta didn't want Cami to know that she had asked to leave.

She wanted to see what her mother would do if she believed someone else wanted her.

Cami replied almost immediately.

Oh wow! That's wonderful, honey! I think spending time with your dad will be so good for you! We'll talk about everything tomorrow! Love you!!! ❤️

Vivetta read the message.

Then she read it again.

There was no question about why she wanted to go.

No protest.

No suggestion that Cami would miss her.

Not even a reminder that it was her birthday.

Just enthusiastic approval.

Vivetta had expected her mother to be upset.

She had even imagined Cami begging her to stay.

Instead, her mother seemed delighted.

Vivetta set the phone facedown on the table.

For the first time that evening, she stopped crying.

The arrangements came together with surprising speed.

Keith confirmed that Vivetta could stay with him and began contacting the school district near his apartment.

Cami signed the necessary paperwork with remarkably little resistance.

She described the move to her acquaintances as a wonderful opportunity for Vivetta to

become more independent and spend quality time with her father.

She also pointed out that the arrangement would allow her to concentrate on expanding her business.

Vivetta said very little.

She packed her clothes, school supplies, and the few possessions she cared about.

Cami occasionally wandered into her bedroom to offer advice.

"Don't forget your hairbrush."

"Make sure you have enough socks."

"You know, honey, this is going to be a very exciting year for both of us."

Vivetta continued packing.

A few days before her departure, Cami presented her with a belated birthday card.

It featured a photograph of Cami smiling beside a display of vitamin chocolates.

Inside, she had written:

Happy Birthday to my beautiful girl! I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we planned, but sometimes life has bigger plans for us! Always remember to stay positive and follow your dreams! Love, Mom.

There was also a promotional photograph of Cami tucked inside, apparently left over from one of her business events.

Vivetta stared at the picture.

Her mother looked radiant.

Perfectly styled hair.

Bright lipstick.

An enormous smile.

It was the sort of photograph Cami used on her business profiles, accompanied by inspirational quotations about success and perseverance.

Vivetta turned the card over.

There was nothing else.

No mention of the movie.

No acknowledgment that Cami had abandoned her in the driveway.

No indication that she understood why her daughter was leaving.

Just another cheerful message about staying positive.

Vivetta placed the card on her dresser.

She didn't mention it again.

On the morning of her flight, Cami was in an unusually good mood.

She talked almost nonstop during the drive to the airport, explaining how her business was beginning to attract attention from several promising new contacts.

"Once we get through this launch, I really think things are going to take off."

Vivetta watched the highway through the passenger window.

"You know, I might even be able to come visit you once things settle down."

"Okay."

"And we'll definitely have to do something special for your next birthday."

Vivetta said nothing.

Cami glanced at her.

"What's the matter? Aren't you excited?"

"A little."

"Well, you should be! This is a big adventure!"

At the airport, Cami hugged her tightly.

"Be good for your dad, okay? And don't forget to call me."

"I won't."

"Love you, sweetheart!"

"Love you, Mom."

Vivetta stepped away.

She had expected to feel something dramatic at the moment of departure.

Sadness, perhaps.

Or fear.

Instead, she felt much as she had on countless afternoons when Cami left her alone to attend another meeting.

The difference was that this time, Vivetta was the one leaving.

She boarded the plane under the supervision of the airline staff, found her seat, and fastened her seat belt.

As the aircraft began moving toward the runway, she looked out the window at the airport buildings sliding past.

She had no illusions about her father.

Keith was distracted, inconsistent, and more interested in avoiding inconvenience than in creating a comfortable home.

He would probably forget things.

He would probably disappoint her.

But he had told her what to expect.

That was more than Cami usually managed.

Back at the house, the bedroom Vivetta had occupied for most of her life was nearly empty.

The bed was made.

The closet was bare.

The dresser drawers had been cleared.

And in the kitchen trash can, beneath a handful of discarded promotional flyers and an empty vitamin chocolate wrapper, lay the birthday card Cami had given her.

The photograph of her mother was still tucked inside.

Vivetta had left it there deliberately.

She hoped Cami would find it.

She hoped her mother would understand what it meant.

But somewhere above the clouds, as the plane carried her toward a city she barely knew,

Vivetta was beginning to understand something herself.

Her mother had always been chasing the next wonderful opportunity.

For the first time in her life, Vivetta had decided to do the same.

And she hadn't asked Cami's permission.