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Charlene’s mom crosses to the counter where a plethora of dildos and other sex toys are laid out on dishtowels. I make a mental note to throw out every dishtowel in the house.
“It’s such a small world, isn’t it? Char-char had quite the adventure meeting your parents this weekend! The resemblance between you and your father is actually rather uncanny. So smart that they went into directing since porn stars have such a short shelf life. No one wants to watch boobs flop around when they’re trying to get off, do they? And don’t get me started on old balls, am I right?”
I’m not sure if she honestly expects me to respond. I’m also suddenly very aware that as fucked up as I might think I am, based on what I’m seeing and hearing, Charlene is just as much a mess. It doesn’t appear that her mother sheltered her in any way from her chosen profession. It makes me want to protect Charlene from all the bad things in this world, myself excluded.
“So how long have you been dating Charlene, exactly?”
I go with vague. “We’ve been together for a while.”
“Really? Hmm. . . Well, enjoy her while you can.”
What the hell does that mean? “I’m sorry?”
“Char-char doesn’t often let people get too close to her. Well, apart from her girlfriends, anyway.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. I contemplate how well I really know Charlene, because there’s some truth in what her mother has said. Charlene has always been the one to pull back in our relationship. I’ve allowed it because I don’t want to risk losing her by pushing her, but we’re two years into this, and I don’t have the sense of security I’d like to.
“It’s been nice visiting her. She has such fun friends. They all enjoyed themselves at the convention. You know, I tried to raise Charlene in a very sex-positive, shame-free lifestyle, at least once it was just the two of us.”
“That’s important.” I’m not sure what else to say to that.
“It really is, but sometimes I think it might have been better for Char-char if she’d had a more normal childhood. She was always so sweet, and smart as a whip! My God, she could recite her times tables up to twelve by the time she was four. It’s no surprise she works with numbers. If I’d had her smarts, maybe I would’ve made better choices.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I’d always thought maybe one day Char-char might want to travel the world with me, but she seems settled and happy here.”
“She is happy, and very much settled.” Her house is homey, her life has a routine and comfort in it, and I’m part of that.
She tips her head. “You play professional hockey, yes?”
“I do.”
“That means you travel often?”
“During the season, yes.”
“Mmm. . .” She says something that sounds like close but not too close. “That must make relationships challenging.”
“I’m in Chicago during the off-season, and Charlene is very independent, as I’m sure you know.” I force a smile, aware that even if she doesn’t have the most conventional job, she’s still a mother making sure her daughter is taken care of. “She also has good friends who are always here when I’m away.”
“Those girls she spends her time with seem like a family,” Whensday observes.
“They’re very much like sisters,” I agree.
“That’s good. She needs that. She was always surrounded by a lot of—”
The door slams before Whensday can finish that thought. “Mom? I’m home!”
Charlene’s voice is the balm I’ve needed since the plane landed, even if her words aren’t directed at me. I’m simultaneously calm and anxious. I wonder if this is how Charlene feels on a regular basis when I return from away games.
She comes to a halt as soon as she sees me. Her eyes dart to Whensday, then to the sex toys in the drying rack before they swing back to me. “What’re you doing here?”
I guess we’re ignoring all the awkward. “I wanted to see you. I thought we should talk.”
She arches a brow. “You could’ve called first.”
Her mom seems to be oblivious to the sudden tension. “Darren and I were talking about professions. We have a lot in common with all the traveling we do, don’t we?” She looks to me for confirmation.
It’s really the only thing we have in common apart from Charlene. “I suppose—”
Charlene directs a withering glare at her mother. “Well, that’s nice. I don’t like living out of a suitcase, so I guess that makes me the odd one out.” She motions to the sex toys in the drying rack, refusing to look my way as her cheeks flush. “Why is this stuff sitting out like this? Can’t you put it away?”
“I couldn’t pack them wet. And honestly, Char-char, it’s not as if Darren hasn’t seen it all before.” Whensday turns her bright smile on me.
