Everyone has baggage, but it's certainly not Selina's job to carry it for them.
*****
Radio talk show host Selina Locke was just looking for a peaceful summer in sunny Barcelona, but...
( — idina menzel; american actress, singer, and songwriter. )
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SELINA IS NOT ABOUT TO MAKE A SCENE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FANCY RESTAURANT.
She's secretly thankful it's not Olive Garden—because, after all, who in their right mind eats at Olive Garden—but it's still downtown Los Angeles and there are way too many famous people in the city. There's always a camera somewhere, waiting to capture the perfect moment, and she's not giving them the satisfaction of catching her losing her cool.
Her hands, carefully set on the table, on each side of her plate, shake so hard it's almost like she's sitting on the epicenter of an earthquake. Her brain, still in so much shock she can't even form a barely coherent thought, slowly melts into cotton-candy.
It's been an absurdly long time since Selina last saw her mother. It wasn't the most amicable of separations, even though there was no actual violence involved, but she still knows it was a hard blow to all parties involved. Maybe she broke her mother's heart when she left, but it's not like it didn't hurt her too.
Nevertheless, after everything that's happened, after all the trauma, after all the lies, this is not a conversation Selina wants to have here and now, out of every place and out of every moment possible. There's a chance—no matter how small—that Maia is confused and Selina's mother isn't actually sitting two tables away from them. It might be nothing.
"Does she look like me?" Selina asks.
"Yeah," Maia fearfully replies, drumming her perfectly manicured nails against the side of her empty glass of wine. "It's uncanny. I swear to God you have the exact same cheekbones."
"Is there a birthmark on her left cheek?"
"Can't tell. Too much foundation." Maia narrows her eyes, leaning forward to get a better look at the mystery woman behind Selina. "Badly applied, too. Yikes."
Selina groans, burying her head in her hands. Just when she thought there was no way things could possibly get any worse for her, of course Murphy's Law has to come into play and ruin whatever was left of her happiness and piece of mind. She can even count on one hand the number of good things that have happened ever since the year started.
If it really is her mother, what is she supposed to do?
She can either finish her dinner as if nothing's going on, pay, leave a tip for the overworked and underpaid waiters, and bolt out of the restaurant with Maia. She can also turn around, make a scene, and confront her mother for being the source of most of her childhood traumas.
