Ten Years of Public Breakups, Then He Ran After My Bus novel · Chapter 28 of 40

Chapter 28: Tourtière

Bernie's POV

My mother made tourtière the night before I left, which was how I knew she was frightened.

She only made it for funerals, Christmas Eve and emergencies.

She stood at the counter in the Thomaston kitchen with flour to her elbows, rolling out the crust on the marble slab that had been her mother's.

The house smelled of pork and cloves and allspice.

I sat at the table with my duffel bag open at my feet, folding sweaters.

"You have the confirmation?" my mother said.

"I have it, Ma."

"The address?" she said.

"On my phone."

"The bus stops at the college?" she said.

"It stops at the transportation center. I walk twelve minutes."

"In February," she said.

"I've got boots."

She cut a circle of pastry and laid it in the pan without looking at me.

"I'd drive you," she said.

"The bus is fine."

"It's five in the morning," she said.

"I know what time it is."

"You won't let anyone drive you. Your car's dead and you won't take mine. That's your pride," she said.

"I'd rather take the bus."

She put the rolling pin down.

She wiped her hands on her apron, one finger at a time, and sat down across from me.

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