It’s scary to admit it, but I do. “He does, yeah.”
“And you feel the same way—I can tell. I think that’s great.”
“He’s not the reason I am staying here though,” I say adamantly. “You need to know that. This shit I’m doing is not about a crush.”
“I know.” She gets out and shuts the door. “Both of you have been through a lot, and I’m happy that you found each other.”
Alex soars by us on his bike and parks by the front door.Shit. I forgot to give him a head’s up.
“Oh, I forgot. My friend is here to help with baking. It’s sort of become our Saturday ritual. Hope that’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“He…likes a routine. I didn’t tell him that you’d be here, so he might be a bit nervous. Or agitated. Or something.”
She doesn’t balk when he immediately asks for a pair of wool socks and returns a bag of flour I gave him days ago, which is now, of course, vacuum-sealed. And in fact, she smiles and welcomes him warmly. “I’m Callie’s mom, Cindy.”
He glances off to the side. “I did not know you would be here.” Alex looks agitated. “No one told me.”
I step forward. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here this afternoon.” I tell him. “She’s back for a few days. Is it all right if she helps us cook? If it’s not, she can wait outside.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “I can go and read on the deck.”
“No. It’s fine.” He marches into the kitchen and stops abruptly as he is faced with a foreign kitchen. “Everything is new. Nothing is the same. Nothing is the same!” Before he escalates, I see him take some deep breaths and calm himself. “But you prepared me for this. I am ready. It will be okay. What are we cooking?”
I rush to his side and pull up a recipe on my iPad. “We’re making a cocoa banana bread with banana slices on top.”
“Okay, I like that a lot.” He is still agitated but trying to settle himself. “I like that a lot.”
“Me too.”
As we cook, he relaxes, and so do I. When the banana bread is out of the oven and cooling, I decide to use the baby eggplant that my mom picked today for dinner and make the three of us pan-fried eggplant with a simple tomato dipping sauce. Until a few weeks ago, I thought I hated eggplant. Mushy eggplant Parm is one of the grossest things ever, and that’s how I’ve always known it. However, when you peel eggplant, slice it into half-inch rounds, then salt those, and let them sit between paper towels for twenty minutes before you fry ’em up in a basic batter? Prepared properly, eggplant is creamy and delectable, and my mom and Alex love it.
“So, tomorrow, who’s going to be here?” Mom asks as she literally licks her fingertips.
I list off the usual crew.
“So, Paul, yes? It’ll be nice to see him.”
But I catch her eye. Yes, it will be nice for her to see him, but it will also be difficult. She’s bracing for that.
“And Danny, you said?”
“Of course.”
Alex bristles. “Don’t ask him about condoms. There has been too much talk about condoms, and I don’t like it.”
“Alex!” I must be ten shades of red. “We don’t say things like that!”
“Yes, I agree, but you and Mary Ann did say things about condoms and Danny, and lots of other people in town said things about you and Danny and condoms, and I just think your mother should be careful when she asks him questions.” He takes his plate to the sink and rinses it off before placing it in the dishwasher.
My mother raises her wineglass for a refill and is visibly controlling her laughter. “So, you and Danny are doing quite well, I gather?”
There’s no way to hide either my snarl or my glow. “I hate both of you right now. But, yes, we are doing well.”
