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“Well, I guess Tanya was right—he is an asshole.” She straightens her shirt and hooks her arm in with mine. “Come on,” she says, leading me toward the parking lot. “We can’t let the muggles get us down. And I think that’s your mom’s car over there.”
My mother picks an Irish pub of all things. Not that I have a problem with the place. The Banshee is kind of an institution around he
re, with its cozy setup and aroma of polished maple, grilled beef, and beer. It’s just not the kind of place someone like my mom would usually frequent. It could be that it’s close to campus and she knows I have a class in an hour, because hell would freeze over before my mother became an instrument in my academic demise.
“For Heaven’s sake, Emily.”
The waitress has just brought our orders. Caesar salad for Mom, and a gigantic, mouthwatering Banshee burger for me. With a side of pub fries. I can’t help it. My last meal was a bowl of popcorn and I’m starving.
“Your salad looks good,” I say, with a mouth full of red meat.
I take another bite. I’m sure I look like a hamster with fully loaded cheek pouches as I start to chew my way through this dream of a meal, relishing the sweet juice from the onions setting my tongue alight.
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to put a hold on that red dress for Christmas dinner.”
I give an internal eye-roll at the mention of this. Here we go.
“You know, this wine is from New Zealand,” she says, lifting the glass of white to her lips and taking the tiniest sip.
I’m confused. I was sure she was about to get into her matchmaking thing again. I’m so relieved to have the topic become wine and New Zealand, I feign avid interest and say, “Ah, really?” with impressed raised eyebrows and the works.
“Hm-mm. It says so right here.” She points to the drinks menu. “Kevin was there a couple of months ago.”
Ha. There it is. I was right. I shove a handful of fries into my mouth to hide the inevitable groan building up inside me. She casually brings up her friend Kevin so that she can casually mention his son, the engineer. I’ve been to this show before.
“He travels a lot,” she goes on. “I’m sure he’s seen the whole world by now.”
I seriously doubt that. The whole world is a lot of ground to cover.
“We’re actually planning a trip to Africa in a month.”
I speed-chew the last fries in my mouth and force them down. “We?”
My mother tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. So, this is why we’re here? This is about Kevin, not his engineer son or my grades. I’m struck dumb. I can’t think of anything to say, and the fact that she’s clearly waiting for a reaction makes it even harder to find words.
“That’s great, Mom,” I mumble. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.
“It is, isn’t it?” And her face lights up with this huge smile that sends me back in my seat.
She’s always been beautiful, my mother. And it’s easy to forget that when her features are constantly weighed down by failed relationships, stress at work, or issues with me. Whoever this Kevin guy is, he’s making her happy. That counts for something. It’s practically shining out of her skin. I remember a time ten years ago when that happened. With Peter’s father. Before everything fell apart.
“I just wish you could find someone, too, Emily. Nothing too serious until after you graduate, of course, but still.”
It’s freaky how she would bring that up right at the second I think about Peter. What if it’s a sign? I so badly want to tell her to stop worrying about me. That I think I may have found just the someone I need. Maybe I should. Maybe telling her the truth about me and Peter will finally put an end to her silly blind dates and constant nagging.
So, I take the plunge. “Guess who I ran into yesterday?” She gives me a questioning look. “Peter.” I take some more fries to sell the idea that this is no big deal, but my hands have suddenly started shaking. Why am I so nervous?
“Peter. Peter who?” Her face is totally blank.
“Uh…how many Peters have you shared your home with, Mom?”
She purses her lips tightly, that blank expression now replaced with something closer to anger. And hurt.
I wish I’d never said anything.
“If he’s in Boston, it means that man is here, too.”
That man is how she’s been referring to her ex-husband since the split. I don’t blame her. After what he did to her, he doesn’t deserve the courtesy.
