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“No, I’m a… Henry asked me to stay a little longer. Who knows when I’ll see him again.”
The lie coats my mouth.
“Sounds like you won’t make it for dinner. Rats. I’ll be stuck with your father.”
I wince at the dig. “You probably will.”
“Oh well. We were going to suggest going out anyway.” She changes the subject. “Is it over yet? This nonsense with Noelle?”
“Not yet.” My jaw grinds at the mention of Noelle.
“You’re being ridiculous, Maxwell. That girl is perfect for you.”
I cough into my hand, braking for traffic. “It was her idea, Mom.”
“That girl had to give you an ultimatum. You’re thirty-five. You’ve dated her for three years. It’s time, honey.”
“Mom,” I say sternly, coming to a complete stop. My temples pulse with this conversation.
“That girl wants to be your wife.”
But do I want that? I keep that thought to myself.
This break started thirty days ago, when Noelle mentioned her recently engaged friend, Kira. Noelle described Kira’s engagement ring at length, including the carat, cut, and the other C’s, while I stayed silent.
“You’re not listening,” she claimed.
“I am,” I said with an involuntary eye roll, and then Noelle exploded.
“Why won’t you marry me?” came out during tears, and I didn’t have a good answer for her. It led to an explosive fight, and through tears, she said, “I’m going to give you thirty days to figure out if I’m the one. No talking, no sex. If you don’t propose by the end of thirty days, I’m gone.”
I tried to talk her out of it, but she stood firm. “You can’t see me. You can’t text me. You can’t call me. I want you to be sure of your decision. That I’m the one.”
The last thirty days has been lonely, but I’m just as confused as I was a month ago.
The last time I wasn’t confused about someone, I turned out to be completely wrong.
It was a week. One week. Nothing in comparison to the three years I’ve been with Noelle, the experiences we’ve had, the ways we’ve grown as a couple. I love Noelle.
Still, a girl named Emily still haunts me, even ten years later.
“You know,” my mother says, “my friend Rita just had the most delicious grandbaby.”
“Are you going to eat it?”
Mom chuckles. “No, silly. I’m just saying. All my friends are becoming grandparents. I’m getting old, Maxwell.”
I roll my eyes. She sounds like Noelle. Sometimes I catch Noelle and Mom conspiring, studying me like a sperm donor in a book. Noelle would make a wonderful mother, and my children would be so lucky.
Still, I hesitate.
“Are you going to call Noelle?” my mother asks, shaking me from my thoughts.
“She’s my next call.” We discussed over text that I would call her today to discuss meeting for dinner to give her my answer. I still don’t know what I’m going to do.
“I’ll be anxious to hear what happens. Do something romantic for her. She loves that.” I roll my eyes. My mom would love a daughter-in-law. “Remember, your father is retiring this week. His party is Saturday.”
“I know,” I say. My mother has given me a week-by-week countdown for months. It’s finally happening. Fred Sawyer is hanging up his fluoride. The longer he delayed it, the more relieved I felt. Meanwhile, he came close to being the subject of his own Dateline murder special because he works so much and my mother is fed up, to say the least.
