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“I’ve been busy, Ma,” I said.
“Busy,” she said. “Where’s your girlfriend? How come you don’t got a girlfriend? With your face and your brain, they should be falling all over themselves for you. I’ll tell you what it is—you don’t smile enough.”
“Jesus, Ma.”
She nudged Paul with her elbow. “For years, I’ve been telling Wes he’s a sweet, handsome guy, but he don’t smile. How can you attract pretty girls if you look like you’ve got a stick up your ass all the time?”
“Miranda, leave him be,” Paul said mildly.
Beside me, Connor was laughing into his napkin, shoulders shuddering silently.
“Look at Connor,” Ma said. “Always smiling, showing those beautiful teeth. And let me tell you, Wes.” She started counting off on her fingers. “You’re a beautiful boy. You’re the fastest runner out there when you’re not falling on your face. And you’re a brilliant writer. Paul, did I tell you he’s a brilliant writer?”
“Once or twice.” Paul smiled at me. “I heard you wrote a winning essay for a scholarship to a very prestigious prep school in Boston.”
“It’s all true,” Ma said. “That’s how he met this one.” She patted Connor on the shoulder. “This one…” She shook her head, her lips pursed to hold back a sudden rush of emotion as she took Connor’s face in both of her hands. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without him. And his family. They took care of me. Took care of us…”
I clenched my teeth. That was my dad’s job. And since he’s fucking gone, it’s my job…
“Come on, Miranda,” Connor said, hugging Ma’s shoulders.
“Times are tough and I just feel so grateful to have these beautiful boys.” She turned to Paul. “And now you. I’m surrounded by good men. How did I get so lucky?”
The waitress appeared with a tray, laden with plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. After she sorted out who got what—with Ma’s loud assistance—we dug in.
I glanced at Paul beside me as we ate, still searching for the scumbag that lurked within his mild-mannered, nice guy act.
“What do you do for a living, Paul?” I asked.
Are you ‘between opportunities’? Taking some time off? Crashing with Ma until you get back on your feet?
Paul opened his mouth to answer but Ma swooped in with a proud smile.
“He’s a regional sales manager for a lumber distribution company. How about that? The buildings you see going up all over? That lumber gets there because of him.”
That lumbah gets they-ah cuzza him. Ma’s accent seemed stronger every time I saw her, and listening to her drew mine out of me against my will, when I worked so hard to kill it.
Paul chuckled. “Miranda makes my job sound loftier than it is.”
“Don’t minimize yourself,” she scolded. “And I’m so happy you took time off to drive out here to see my son. Wish it was a better performance.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I said over my coffee cup, just as Connor dropped his gaze toward his plate and Paul mumbled, “Miranda…”
“Well? Am I wrong?” she said. “You’re always the best one out there. What happened today?”
“I tripped on a hurdle, Ma,” I said. “It happens.”
She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Such a shame.”
“I thought you were terrific in your first race,” Paul said.
“He came in second,” Ma said. “He never comes in second. That’s how he got the NCAA scholarship, for being so fast.” She ripped open a packet of Sweet & Low and dumped it into her coffee. “Speaking of which, baby, what are you going to do about next year?”
“What happens next year?” Paul asked.
“No more scholarship, that’s what happens.”
I exchanged glances with Connor and shook my head slightly. If I told her the NCAA people had been there on the same afternoon I DQ’d a race, her head would explode.
