AR - Ellen

“Gonna need wine for this,” your mother says, going to the kitchen. There, you and Adella join her for a glass, gathering around the kitchen table. It doesn’t sound like Kayla’s home. Maybe that’s for the best. It doesn’t seem like your mother is keen to talk about this.

“Why do you want to know about her?” she asks after she’s taken a big swallow.

“This new Winter Soccer thing is about her,” you say.

Your mom scowls. “So she’s finally doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Running for office, I assume.” She sighs. “And you guys are getting involved?”

“We’re going to coach the school team,” you tell her, looking uncertainly at Adella. “If Adella wants to. But Stef says that you and Ellen know each other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hang out.”

Adella takes your wine glass and has a sip, then hands it back to you.

“So that’s where you were tonight. I don’t see much of Stef these days,” your mom says tiredly. “Because of my job. And how’s Jess?”

“She looked beautiful,” you say. “Do you know her too?”

“Not as well, but yes.” Your mom pours more wine. “Look, Riley. I don’t have it in me to tell stories tonight, but let’s just put it this way: a long time ago, something happened that Ellen didn’t like. She screwed up. OK? She made a mistake. But she’s never gotten over it. She feels small and she thinks the only thing that will make her feel better is being powerful. That’s why she’s police chief. And that’s why someday she’ll probably be something bigger,” your mom says with a shrug. “It means a lot to her.”

“Stef at least…” you trail off, “suggested that Ellen was at least bi or something.”

“God, yes. Riley, she’s as gay as you are.”

“Then how can she do this? How can she be a cop here and support these politics?”

“It’s complicated, Riley. The real question should be for Adella. You really want to get mixed up in this bullshit?” she asks, reaching out to squeeze Adella’s arm. “Why don’t you two go take a cruise? You could be lying on a beach all day and screwing all night at a nice resort.”

“Mom!” you say, aghast.

“I’m serious.” She is. “This is Gurlberg, Riley. I don’t mind it here, but I’m not going to pretend that it’s a great place to live. Especially for you. You deserve to be free and have fun. You two can’t even kiss in public here without getting a ticket from Stark.”

“I can afford tickets,” you say.

“That’s not the point, Riley. This soccer thing will be pure drama. I don’t know if you’re ready for it. Think about what I said. Cruises. Beaches.” She gives you a smile. “Maids to change your sheets for you.”

“Mom!”