I keep my voice light, but inside I’m fuming. Why should I have to broadcast my family history to everyone I meet? If I want to keep the details to myself, that’s my prerogative. Britney Spears backs me up.
My mom frowns in disapproval. I beam back a silent message of my own:Drop it.Ben looks from her to me, caught in the middle and clearly lost.
Silence descends on the table. I’m suddenly keenly aware of every noise in the restaurant: the clinking of water glasses, the crash of silverware in the kitchen, the buzz of background conversation. I feel a foreign weight on my leg and glance down.
Ben’s hand is on my knee.
I look up at him and his eyes silently communicate:Are you okay?
Oh no.No way am I going to allow him to give me thatinjured birdexpression he’s so good at.
I push my chair out abruptly, dislodging his hand. “I’m going to the restroom,” I announce, then take off without looking at either of them.
I hide out in the ladies’ room, taking a few minutes to collect myself. I should be used to my mom’s thoughtless disclosures by now; she’s done this my whole life. She’s never cared who knows what—maybe because she never really had a choice—and she’s never understood why I feel differently. It was one of the things I was happiest to leave behind in Tennessee, everyone knowing everything about me. Now people know what Iwantthem to know—except when my mom feels the need to blurt things out, apparently.
On the way back to the table, I see the two of them conferringintently, heads bent together as if they’re discussing something sensitive. I quicken my pace, but when my mom sees me coming she sits back, her mouth set in a firm line. Ben won’t meet my eyes either.What now?
“What’d I miss?” I ask as I take my seat, looking from one to the other.
“Honey, are you walking home alone at night?”
I nearly get whiplash snapping my head toward Ben. He at least has the grace to look guilty.
“Seriously? This is what I get for bringing you? Youtattledon me?”
He opens his mouth to answer but my mom gets there first. “Don’t blame him. He said he tries to walk you but you’re very stubborn. You should be thanking him!”
Oh, Ben is going to live to regret this. Ornotlive to regret this. “I am a grown woman, and Idon’tneed a babysitter.”
“But you’re putting yourself at such unnecessary risk, Katie. Don’t you know how dangerous this city is?”
“Yes, I hear about it every chance this guy gets. Who may never live to say it again.” I violently spear the last of my chicken.
“Well, Ben,Iappreciate you letting me know how irresponsible she’s being.”
I throw my fork down. “What is this, the Bev and Ben tag team? You’re both being absurd! Plenty of people walk around this city every day. I don’t appreciate being treated like I’m helpless.” I glare at both of them. “Are we done here?”
Ben opens his mouth but this timeIcut him off. “That was rhetorical for you. Iknowyou’re done here.”
I give him the cold shoulder on our walk back to my building, rolling my eyes as he and my mom say their goodbyes. She fawns all over him, thanking him for picking up the check and gushing about what a good influence he is on me. If I hadn’t just had such a delicious dinner, Iwould throw up. When she makes a comment about staying in touch, I get between them.
“All right, that’s enough.”
“It was great to meet you, Beverly. Maybe we’ll get to do it again sometime.”
He gives her a preemptive hug this time, which she returns with gusto. When he steps toward me I watch him hesitate, as if assessing the degree of grievous bodily injury he’ll sustain if he tries to touch me. He must decide it’s worth the risk because he leans in, wrapping me in a hug too.
“Bye, Katie Cat. Thanks for a lovely evening.” He doesn’t even sound sarcastic.
I glare at him sourly as he pulls away, which only seems to amuse him. He squeezes my shoulder and waves before strolling across the street.And what is with all this touching?
As soon as he rounds the corner, my mom drops the smile and turns on me. She’s like Jekyll and Hyde. “Okay,whatare you thinking?”
“What do you mean, what amIthinking? You threw me under the bus back there!”
“Threw you under thebus? I just assumed you would have told him about your family by now.”
I huff and throw open the door of my building. “Right, because that’s the first thing I tell mywork colleagues. Maybe I should add it as a line item on my résumé: ‘Special talents: I’m a prom souvenir’? ‘I have daddy issues’?” I stalk across the lobby and aggressively stab the elevator button.
