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That should make me happy. After all, I’m not looking for any kind of relationship, strings attached or otherwise, but in the heat of the moment, when she drew the line in the sand, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a blow to my ego. Sure, I don’t want to date, but she doesn’t know that.
At the very least, she and I could have been friends, but now that seems out of the question too, considering how I acted last night. The hurt expression she wore as I berated her (for the second time) is going to be forever burned in my mind.
Maybe we just don’t mix.
But I refuse to believe that.
I couldn’t take my attention off her last night. She was working so diligently with Mouse, minding her own business in a corner of the gymnasium, and over the course of the hour, I caught myself watching her a dozen times. I’d tell myself to focus on another student and their dog, and yet my attention would wander right back to her.
She was good with Mouse, patient when he was learning and quick to reward him when he mastered a new trick. I saw a different side of her, one I wanted to get to know…up until she asked me if I was in the market for a real estate agent. That burst my bubble real quick.
“Dr. Foxe,” calls Derek, one of the vet assistants, from outside my office door. “Your next patient is ready for you in exam room two.”
I tell him I’ll be right there, but there’s no folder waiting for me outside the exam room. I knock on the door, assuming he left it inside on accident, but as soon as I see my mom perched in one of the chairs, I know I’ve been set up. Even now, I can hear my staff laughing out at reception.
She looks up at me, her short, gray bob accented by a pair of blue earrings that match her dress. On her lap is a stuffed animal bird, and even though I’m in the throes of a shitty mood, I can’t help but crack a little smile.
“Mom, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, closing the door behind me. “And did you actually make an appointment? I’ve been behind all morning.”
She holds up the bird. “As a matter of fact, I did. Birdie here has an ear infection.”
“Funny.”
She sighs and sets the stuffed bird back on her lap. “It’s the only way I can see you these days! You moved from Chicago a month ago and I’ve only seen you twice!”
“That’s more than you used to see me.”
She offers up a classic mom glare. “Well it’s not enough.”
“How are Samuel and the kids?”
“Good. They’re planning a barbecue this weekend and I want you to come.”
Barbecue I can get behind. Incessant nagging from every single one of my family members about my life, not so much.
“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” I say, unable to meet her eyes.
I might have lived halfway across the country from her for the last ten years, but she’s still my mom, and she can see right through me.
“Fortunately, your schedule is right up front at reception, and I already looked. You’re free Saturday afternoon.”
“They don’t have my social life penciled in up there,” I point out, though it probably would have been best to keep my mouth shut.
Her green gaze—the one that matches mine to a T—lights up. “So you’ve got social plans this Saturday?”
If by plans she means driving one town over for groceries, then yes, I’m booked.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” I reply, which seems just vague enough. I could be talking about a date; I could be talking about a drug-filled orgy. She can fill in the blanks herself.
She sighs, annoyed with me for not opening up more. That’s what she gets for having two sons though. If she wants to have a heart-to-heart, she has Samuel’s wife. Kathy hasn’t stopped talking since the day she joined the family.
“I just want you to move on and be happy. I know it’s only been a few months but—”
“I am happy,” I insist. “And I have moved on.”
“Oh really? Have you been seeing someone?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then, what’s her name?”
I forgot that she’s been calling my bluffs since I was in diapers. I need to just make up the first name that comes to mind.
“Madeleine.”
She squeals and I pinch my eyes closed. Giving her a name, even a false one, was a bad idea.
“Perfect, you’ll bring her to the barbecue on Saturday.”
“No can do,” I say, rounding the small exam table and angling toward the exam door. I have other patients to see, a job to do.
“What, is she a convict or something? Y’know Adam, one day you won’t have a mother to nag and pester you.”
