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“Seriously?” he husked back. “Sarah was a real piece of work, Brod. Tried to warn ya’, but you weren’t open to advice.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“And then you moved her in with you, and it became poor form to remind you.”
“Mom wasn’t exactly subtle,” I contradicted lightly.
“She wasn’t particularly fond of her,” he allowed as mom’s voice snarked in the background.
“That snake was a real cunt.”
Dad choked on a laugh as I covered my mouth, eyeing two mid-forties women as they passed me by.
“Marley Allen,” Dad scolded as I re-composed myself. She wasn’t… wrong?
“What?” she croaked indignantly.
“Nice small-town mayors don’t talk like that, mother,” I interjected, my sentence likely swallowed by the two of them squabbling.
“Bitch brought another person into my baby boy’s bedroom, and I’m not allowed to call it like it is?”
“I’m not saying that, but can we at least pretend to have some decorum in public?”
“Guys?” I chuckled, shaking my head as I paced down the hall on bare feet, the soft threads of carpet brushing against my skin. They didn’t seem to hear me.
“Decorum belongs in town hall and inside the courtroom, Robert. Not sitting in a bikini sipping margaritas in the Dominican Republic.”
“My love, our son had his heart stomped on, I don’t think he needs you poking your nose in?—”
“Guys,” I attempted again.
“Like you weren’t inserting yourself in his love life not thirty seconds ago?” she protested, and I heard the faint click of ice in a glass.
“Mom has a point,” I said, laughing as her triumphant voice cut through the background.
“Hah!”
“That’s different,” my dad protested.
“Oh really? Tell me, Robert, how that’s different from his mother butting in?”
“Mine was a sneaking suspicion about his future.”
“So, speculating about future women is acceptable, but criticizing past women is not?”
“Guys.”
“It was the language used.”
“Was it inaccurate, your honor?”
Snickering, I said, “Alright, it’s been great chatting with you.”
“Wait, baby! Hold on,” Mom protested. I shook my head but stayed on the line. My mother was nothing if not predictable. “Why are you in Chicago? Your father has my interest piqued.”
Sucking down a long breath that released in a sigh, I glanced up at the sleek, chrome, wall-mounted sconce and admitted, “I came to see Elora speak for a local business.” When silence beyond the crash of waves was all that crossed the line, I cleared my throat. “Guys? You there?”
My father’s resonant laugh filled the line as my mother said, “Dammit, Brod.”
