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“R-right,” I stammered. Ned lives with his mother, my brain cried out, followed by internal laughter.
“I’ve got it from here, Mom,” Ned interjected, coming to the door and inviting me in.
“OK, honey. Just make sure you clean up any messes you make, and if you do anything naughty, be sure to use protection.”
“Mother!” he shrieked.
I was silent, focused on wishing a hole would just swallow me up right then and there. How soon was too soon to leave?
“I mean, I want grandkids, but I want you to be married like a good Christian first, son!” she protested as a bright red flush spread up his cheeks. I felt the same heat spreading up my own. Where was that hole I ordered?
“We’ll be fine, Mother,” he gasped, and she shrugged, turning to leave the room. He watched her leave for longer than seemed normal, no doubt trying to regain his dignity, but how much dignity could a man in his mid-thirties still living with his mother really have?
One martini and I made my excuses, saying that I had forgotten an early meeting I had with my estate lawyer. He seemed disappointed and suggested we do it another time. I gave him a less-than-concrete answer and made my way to the door, extracting myself as quickly as possible. It was a shame. The martini was delicious.
I had barely been home for a week and had no desire to date. It wasn’t that I was still hung up on Shaun. It was just that it had been such a horrid experience that I could see being single for a while before I tried to get back on that horse. Still, I needed to do this, at least according to Beau. I just had to find someone that I could tolerate for a while. Who knew, maybe I’d even forget not wanting to get attached and luck upon someone I couldn’t do without?
Unfortunately, that date was followed by a litany of similar experiences. Bernie Turgoff invited me to a wine tasting, which turned out to be his homemade wine he was making in his garage. It tasted like rocket fuel, and the conversation made me wish I had a rocket to put it in so I could blast off out of there. Todd McKenzie asked if I liked reading, and I said yes. He said he wanted to show me some rare books at the library and take me to dinner, but we never made it to dinner as he got way too involved reading sixteenth-century literature silently beside me while I flipped through an old issue of National Geographic.
During it all, it seemed like I was constantly coming home to find Jon working at the house next door, but not attempting to talk to me. I couldn’t imagine what I had done and wondered why he couldn’t just tell me. I should’ve gone over there and confronted him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Then, he finally stopped coming, which was both a relief and somehow worrisome.
Soon, twenty-four hours were all that I had left. It seemed like a good time to go to the bar, but I was in no mood to be hit on at one of the redneck pickup joints that existed on the outskirts of town, just out of the moral majority’s sight, though they were known to lay eyes on them from time to time anyway. Instead, I made my way to the old VFW club Jon’s father used to go to and made my way up to the bar. All eyes were on me, the only person under sixty in the place and the only woman. As it turned out, it was more fun than any of the dates I had been on recently, as the old men regaled me with bad jokes and war stories from their youth.
I was quickly well past my limit thanks to cheap drinks and generous men who were happy enough just to enjoy my company. I wondered what Aunt Bertha would think if I got myself an octogenarian boyfriend. A couple of them were cute, for old guys, or maybe I had just had too many beers. I knew I had when I looked up and one of them looked exactly like Jon.
“Come on, Rain. Let me get you home.”
It was Jon!
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Jon Rayburn.”
“Yeah, you are, Rain. Bailey here is getting ready to close, and you’re in no condition to drive. Give me your keys.”
“Fine, but I’m not sleeping with you,” I pouted, and several of the men around me snickered.
“OK, Rain. That’s fine. Let’s go.” He put his hand on my elbow.
I jerked away and walked out ahead of him in what I hoped was a straight line, but I felt far too wobbly for that to be the case. Out in the parking lot, I spotted what felt like a ghost, and I stopped, squinting at it through blurred eyes for a better look.
