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My only answer is a kiss that lingers and leaves no doubt that I have no interest in spending any time away from him.
Half an hour later, we’re sitting in Brice’s living room, his mother fretting with making sure we both have forks and napkins before she finally falls back into the recliner. She pulls her legs up under her and digs into a box of fried rice. “So, what have you two been up to lately?”
As if on cue, I choke on a piece of sweet and sour pork, washing it down with a huge gulp of water. Brice is looking over at me with knowing eyes that seem to twinkle at my little misfortune.
“Same old, same old,” Brice answers blandly, giving nothing away.
His mom turns to me. “The last time we spoke, you mentioned that you were making some money by selling your art online.”
Brice raises his eyebrows at this. It’s a side of myself I kept even from him. I’d told his mom one night, my tongue slipping up while we were cleaning dishes together, Brice in the other room. Hearing it now, he probably thinks it’s simply my cover story for where all my camming money has come from, but the truth is that it’s a legitimate business I’ve been striving towards for years.
“It’s slow going, but I’m still taking commissions. The problem is that lots of people online want everything for free. Or they promise to give you exposure if you draw something for them. But exposure doesn't pay the bills.”
“Some exposure does,” Brice quips before he probably even realizes what he’s said. His mention of exposure makes me remember how exposed we’ve been all day. But he’s certainly right; it’s definitely paying the bills. “But what exactly are you talking about?”
I bite my lips before admitting it out loud. “You know all those cheesy movies we watch? Well, I like to take iconic scenes and paint them in a sort of abstract interpretation.”
Brice sobers up when he realizes I’m not joking. “You’re serious? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
I shrug. “I’m not actually any good yet. Besides, it was fun to have a little secret of my own, since you know everything else about me.”
We share a smile before his mother, Maggie, says, “Well, even if you’re not rolling in money quite yet, I’m sure you’ll make it in the end. And if you haven’t made it yet, don’t let it be the end.”
I smirk a bit at her cutesy turn of phrase.
“That’s something you’ve been spouting off for years.” Brice says, handing his mother an eggroll.
“Is it?”
Brice’s mom has always been wonderful to me. I used to spend every weekend over here. She’s the type of woman that you just know was unbearably sassy back in her prime. Now, she’s a mom, both to Brice and to me in a way. I’ve heard a number of her favorite aphorisms before, but never this one.
“All I’m saying,” his mother says, “is that she should do what she loves.”
Brice turns to me, that glint in his eye again. “Have you been doing what you love?”
Knowing exactly what he’s hinting at, I come back with, “Mostly. But sometimes what you love can be a real pain in the ass.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” his mother exclaims, totally oblivious to our double entendre. “I loved your father more than the world, but I’ll tell you, that man could drive me up the walls. Did I ever mention how we met?”
Although I’ve heard this story a thousand times, I tell her that I can’t quite remember.
“He was coming in to interview at my company,” she says, jumping into the story before Brice can stop her. “We were the only two in the elevator when it got stuck between floors. We must have been in there for hours. The man never stopped talking the whole time. The moment I let out that I was on the hiring committee, he began telling me all about himself and his qualifications and experience. All I could think about was why I hadn’t stopped to go to the toilet before getting on this elevator, and this man is here, just not shutting up.
“Well, I finally told him that he could have the job if he didn’t say another word.” She laughs to herself and bites her lips, looking to the ceiling as if she could still see the scene as clear as a favorite movie. “From then on, I swear I didn’t even hear that man breathe. Of course, we were finally rescued, and as soon as both our feet were on solid earth again, he asked me for my phone number.
“’To make sure I have an ally at this place’. That’s what he said. Of course, he still had to go through the interview process, but he got the job without me even having to intervene. He kept my number though, and used it to harass me into going on a date.”
Brice pipes up here. “That would be called stalking today.”
“Maybe so,” his mother says, “but it did the trick for me. Six months later we were engaged. The silly man actually proposed on the same elevator. When the doors swung open, he had a whole party ready on our floor, with cakes and champagne. God, was he ever romantic.”
After the familiar story ends, we finish eating in silence, turning our attention to the TV that’s playing a rerun of some action movie from the nineties that I can’t quite place. When Brice and I go to clean up, his mom shoos us away like errant flies. “You two look like you’ve both had a long day.” She turns to me. “Tess, why don’t you take the fold-out couch? Unless my son is going to be a gentleman and offer his room.”
One look at Brice tells me that neither of us is going to be sleeping on the couch tonight. Still, his mother has always been a bit old fashioned. Despite hoping we would eventually figure out that we love each other, as she used to say, she never left us alone behind closed doors. And despite the fact that we’re adults, she isn’t about to let us sleep in the same room, even as friends.
Not like Brice and I are going to let something like that stop us.
Waiting until his mom is settled down in her bedroom makes me feel like I’m ten years old again. But tonight, after tiptoeing down the hall and closing his door slowly behind me, it’s not with the goal of playing video games until the early morning hours.
