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Foster reenters my room.
“Evelyn,” she growls, “that should be you, not some…some attorney from Nebraska.”
“She lives in New York.”
“Whatever. She’s just a poser from the Midwest. He should be marrying you.”
Foster slips into his boxers and then pulls his T-shirt over his head while my mother mumbles a slew of gibberish.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you for this,” she says, finally finding comprehendible words.
Foster takes a seat at my side, placing his glasses over his face.
“He loves her,” I respond factually, “not me.”
“And why not?” she asks, like she really has no clue whatsoever.
“Because I wasn’t the one.”
“Well, you should have done a better job at trying to convince him otherwise. Have I taught you nothing?”
Angered, I sit up taller, gritting my teeth. “I’m sorry I failed you…again.”
She then quietly says the same words she has said to me weekly since I was a child, “The world is a cruel place, Evelyn. Your decisions will haunt you if you aren’t careful and you don’t choose wisely. We make our own lives, and you aren’t in control of yours.”
“I know what I want to do with my life.”
“What we want and what is best aren’t always the same thing.”
I squirm and reply as I’ve been taught, “You’ve been telling me this for years. I’ve gotten the gist.”
“Then, start acting like the smart young lady I raised,” she huffs, air vibrating through the connection. “I’m going to tell your father about this. He’s not going to be happy.”
“I know.”
“You should,” she says, her voice hard and full of daggers. “I’m going to go now. I will send your congratulations along with ours to Gerard and his new fiancée.”
“Thank you,” I say, my mouth tight. At my side, Foster patiently sits as I continue with this extremely uncomfortable but not unexpected conversation, “That’s very thoughtful.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” she says like it’s a lesson I need to learn. “And don’t forget to call us as soon as you hear about grad school. Surely, you won’t make a mess of that as well, will you?”
“Of course not.”
“Take care, Evelyn,” she says shortly before ending the call.
I lower the phone from my ear, set it on the nearby table, and then slink under the covers, resting my head on the pillow. Foster expectantly stares down at me as I try to mentally wash away the conversation with my mother.
“Should I go?” he asks.
“If you want.” I shrug.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Just had a lovely chat with my mother about how I’m the child she always dreamed of and I’m living up to all of her expectations.”
“I see.” He scratches behind his ear, releasing a few tufts of hair. “Do you want to go and get some breakfast?”
“We can do that.”
