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Afterward, I took him to the Strand, which he’d never managed to step into despite four years in the city. Books lined the walls, shelves towering above the polished wooden floors and forming a maze of knowledge. Spines of every shape and color called out to us. We lost hours there. Ryan stood in the military history section and geeked out until my stomach hurt from laughing.
Later that week, I worked up the nerve to call my mother. She picked up on the first ring, and I pictured her pacing around the living room, neatening things obsessively. “Rachael, good. I was just about to call you.”
“You were?” I dropped down onto my bed. “What about?”
“I just talked to your brother. He and Sophie are going into the city in a couple of weeks. You should all get dinner.”
I snorted. “Thank you, Mom. I think we’ll be able to figure things out ourselves.”
“I just wanted to let you know. Maybe they could stay with you.”
Did mothers live on the same planet as the rest of the world? I couldn’t even tell. “Mom, you have seen my apartment, right? Besides, Dave probably has some fancy executive suite he can use.”
“You know, you could make just as much as he does if you’d just invest in a law degree—”
“Uh-huh,” I said, with a little too much perkiness. “I do know.”
Mom sighed.
I hurried to change the topic. “Anyway, what are you and Dad up to?”
Half an hour later, we were about to hang up when I slipped in my real reason for calling. “Oh, and, um, I just wanted you to know, I’m dating someone.”
My attempt at being low-key did nothing to fool my mother. I winced at her loud intake of breath. “What? You are? Who? Since when?”
Really. She acted like I’d never dated anyone before. “His name’s Ryan. He’s one of my friends.”
I could hear the cogs in her head turning. “I’ve never heard of any Ryan before.”
I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling. “Mom. Do you seriously think you can remember the name of each and every person I meet here?”
“There’s no reason to get snippy. I’m just curious. Does this Ryan have a job? Where does he live?”
“Central Park West. And yeah, he plays football.”
I didn’t need to see my mother to know the expression of disbelief she would be wearing. “What kind of job is playing football?”
“He’s a professional, Mom.”
There was a long, slightly awkward silence as my mother processed. “Well. That’s an...interesting career choice.”
“Mom.”
“Is he nice? Where’s he from?”
“Iowa.”
“Well that’s...lovely.”
My mother, queen of the insultingly placed pause. I rolled my eyes. “I have to go now.”
“Wait! I’m sorry, don’t go! When do I get to meet him?”
“Bye, Mom.” It forced the matching goodbye out of her.
Well. That had gone well.
But at least I was covered if a picture of us showed up in a tabloid magazine.
