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His eyes narrow, but thankfully he does, turning his attention to our mother.
“So, not that we don’t enjoy lunch with you, because we do, but what did you want to talk to us about?” he asks.
“Well,” she says, her dark brown eyes lighting up. “As you both know, your father and I will be celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary soon, and I was wondering what you two are planning. A party would be nice.”
“Party?” we both ask at the same time.
“Umm…” I glance at Dante, who shrugs, and then look back at my mother. “We didn’t realize you wanted a party.”
“I do, and I can’t plan my own. The girls down at the club would have a heyday with that, so it leaves you two.”
“This is a little sudden, don’t you think?” Dante asks. “Isn’t your anniversary next month?”
“Yes.” The waitress drops off our food, and Mother unravels her silverware. “I’m confident you’ll come up with something. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, just something small with our family and closest friends.”
“You do realize that Dad’s idea of closest friends is going to involve a whole slew of people we don’t normally associate with,” Dante says.
Her smile falters as she stares at her plate. A few seconds pass before she looks up at us. “I trust you boys to invite who you feel is necessary. Hire someone to help you plan it, if you’d like. I don’t mind footing the bill, just let me know who I need to pay. In fact, I have an old high school friend who plans these sorts of parties. I’ll forward you her information.”
“It’s not about the money, Mom,” I clarify. “We don’t mind paying for a party. It’s just that this is sudden and completely unlike you.”
My father may be a social person, but Mother is not. Sure, she likes to hang out with her friends at the country club a couple of times a week, but that’s about as far as it goes. She isn’t into the high-society parties. “Does Dad know about it?”
She scoffs. “Of course he knows about it. Why do you think we’re having it?” She takes a bite of her salad and pins us with an unyielding stare. “You know how your father is, always has to be the center of attention.”
“Then where is he?” Dante quips. “Shouldn’t he be here if it’s his idea?”
My mother takes her time swallowing her food. She dabs her mouth with a napkin and sets it in her lap. “You know as well as I do that your father is a busy man. He couldn’t make it.”
Couldn’t make it. It takes every ounce of control I have not to make a comment, but I can’t do that to my mother. It’s an unspoken rule. She knows what he does, what kind of life he lives, but she doesn’t like to talk about it, and the last thing I want to do is upset her.
“It’s fine, Mom,” I say, twirling my fork in the pasta. “We’ll make it happen.”
She pats my hand and then Dante’s. “I knew I could count on you two. Now, tell me about the girl you brought here last night.”
When I look up at her, she’s smiling wildly.
“Girl?” Dante pops a bite of steak in his mouth. “You brought a girl here?” He groans, rolling his head back. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing Liza again.”
“I’m not seeing Liza again. And there’s nothing to tell. I met a girl. I brought her to dinner. End of story.”
Dante shoots me a look that tells me he isn’t buying the shit I’m trying to sell. “Right. Except you don’t bring girls here.”
“Dante,” Mother says, nudging his arm. “Leave Rex alone. You don’t have to tell us about her if you don’t want to,” she tells me.
“Who told you? Wait. Let me guess. Father?” Fucker.
She tilts her head. “No, actually, it was Stella.”
“Stella needs to mind her own business.”
“Calm down. She didn’t say anything bad. She merely told me you looked happy and she hasn’t seen you smile the way you did last night in a long time.”
That’s because last night I was happy. Shae made me happy, which is a scary thought considering we seem to be at different points in our lives. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting her—from wanting to break down her walls. I want to know what makes her smile, what makes her mad, but most of all I want to know what’s holding her back. I want to know the darkness lurking behind her eyes, and I won’t stop until I find out.
With a smile, I say, “Her name is Shae.”
My mother sputters. Covering her mouth with her hand, she coughs several times. Dante pats her back until she manages to catch her breath, and then he hands her some water. She takes a long, slow sip.
