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“Hello, darling, how’s my sweet boy?”
I practically wilt with relief at the sound of her voice. “I miss you,” I pout.
She makes a sympathetic noise. “How are you and Elodie getting along?”
“She’s terrifying, Mom.”
My mother laughs softly. “What in the world…?”
“You’ll have to take my word for it. Is there anything—and I seriously mean anything, community service, rehab, moving to Australia that I can do instead of getting engaged to her? Please, Mom.”
“Oh, darling…”
“Don’t sound like that,” I whine. “Don’t make it sound hopeless. There has to be some other way.”
“Of course there are other ways, my love, but this is by far the best way. And the fastest to get us all back to normal. What’s so bad about Elodie?”
“She’s just—she’s like—I mean, she’s not my type. At all.”
“I wasn’t aware you have a type.”
“I wasn’t aware I did either, but she’s not it. I’d like to be more specific, but trust me, I’m trying to protect you.”
“Oh dear,” she says, sounding appropriately scandalized.
I walk to the top step and take a peek downstairs, relieved to find Drew still passed out. I don’t think he’s moved a muscle. Besides the top of his head, his right arm is the only part of his body not covered with the blanket. He has these bands tattooed around that forearm that are so fucking sexy I’ve decided I want some too. My cheeks get a little hot staring, and I try to remember where I just left off with my mom.
“Will it really mess with Dad’s business if he doesn’t partner up with the Lafayettes?”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“He still won’t return my texts. Can you talk to him?”
“You know how it is—he and I don’t talk business.”
“But it’s not business, Mom—it’s me. Your only son who made one mistake. It’s the rest of my life.”
She sighs. “Ollie… You and I both know it wasn’t just one mistake. But it was the worst possible mistake. The only thing worse would have been if you’d been in the car with a male porn star.”
My hand shakes slightly, and I gulp against a suddenly dry throat. “Oh,” I barely whisper.
She laughs, though. “We’d have had to have you married to Elodie the next day.”
“Right,” I say. “Speaking of, I need to take a shower. We’re seeing each other tonight again.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Remember, Ollie. It’s all going to work out for the best.”
“Okay. I love you, Mom. Bye.”
I hang up and plop down on my bed in shock, defeat, and disgust at my mother’s homophobic remark. Maybe it’s just that it never came up before because I never showed a preference for anyone besides women, or maybe it’s because they don’t accept me as I am after all, which tracks, given the current situation I’m in where they’re finally exerting their massive influence on my life.
Granted, the trouble I got into was extreme, but these measures to rein me in are arguably more extreme. Medieval, even.
I hear a deep cough, and I jump at the sound. Is he up? Should I check?
