I had just passed my driving test; I was subject to run errands for my mother for pleasure. She handed me a green card with pictures of round breads printed on it.
“Here, get as many as you can. I think there is about 5 dollars left.”
“Will do Mom, c’mon Jeffrey lets go.” We skipped to the car and drove the 5 perilous minutes to Bagels and Brew, our local coffee hangout. We stood in line and slapped the card down on the counter like we owned the joint.
“How much is on it and how many bagels can we get with it?”
The green aproned girl slid the card through the register and announced
“20 dollars. That can buy you 4 dozen bagels.” Jeffrey and I turned to look at each other our lips resembling spagetteos.
“Let’s just get 3 dozen,” I said waving my hand. “We don’t want too many bagels.” For the next 3 minutes my brother and I hopped around the glass counter debating and deciding on which flavor of bagels to get.
“French onion, no, bacon flavor? How about Italian rye, or just regular wheat?
In the car once more, heading toward our house, we bounced in our seat with excitement.
“Mom is going to be so proud of us, Look at all the bagels we got!!”
“You got how many?” That wasn’t the tone I had been expecting. Mom stood with her hands clenched on her hips glaring at the three large bags of bagels we brought home. My giddy attitude was deflating like a pricked balloon.
“You said as many as we could get,” I said my voice sounding small in my own head.
“I thought there was less than 5 dollars on the card, how are we suppose to eat this many bagels?” I was dismissed and retreated to my room, my tail between my legs. My brother sharing my shame.
“I thought she would be so proud of us.”
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