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Ugh. Being waterboarded would be more fun than talking to my mother-in-law.
Taking a deep breath and channeling a neutral tone, I answer the phone. “Hi, Rosalita.”
“Eleanor. Are my tickets for the carnival coming in the mail today or do I need to drive over there to pick them up?”she asks, annoyance dripping from her tone.
Oh, I’m great Rosalita, thank you so much for asking. How are you doing today?
Swallowing my annoyance, I say, “We planned to meet you at the entrance tomorrow, but if you want me to drop them off today before I pick up the kids I can.”
“No, it’s fine. I called to make sure you didn’t forget about me,” she bites.
Like you’d ever let that happen.
“Nope, I planned on going in as a family, with my parents too.”
“Oh, Nancy and Dave are coming?” She sounds genuinely surprised like my parents aren’t at almost every one of the kids’ functions.
“Yup.” I’ve plastered a smile on my lips, even though she can’t see me. Fake it until you make it,right?
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten a.m. at the school,” she says and then hangs up the phone before I get a chance to reply.
It’s probably for the best before I accidentally tell her to fuck off.
Rosalita got pregnant with Marco when she was in high school, and she has blamed him for his existence ever since. She won’t even tell him who his father is, and since he hates confrontation in his personal life, especially with her, he doesn’t ask anymore.
When he was fourteen, she gave him a book about sex and told him not to ‘screw up his life by getting a girl pregnant.’
When Rosalita and I met, she accused me of “stealing” her baby boy. Even though it’s been sixteen years and I've been his wife for twelve of that, I’m still a thief. That, coupled with the fact that our skin colors don’t match, I never stood a chance.
She’s hidden her distaste for me well though. No major blows up or arguments, and her snide remarks always border compliments. It’s clear to anyone watching we don’t get along, but Marco always plays a good peacekeeper.
Marco and I had vastly different upbringings. Growing up, my parents were as vanilla as a double scoop, never showing any of their emotions, affection or otherwise. I never saw them kiss beyond a quick peck, and I never saw them fight about anything, big or small.I love youwas the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard them say to each other and they’re the same to this day.
Even though my parents aren’t big on emotions with each other, they have supported me in every way they knew how and are incredibly affectionate to my kids. They’ve been a huge help since they were born.
Marco walks in and plops down on the couch next to me. “Who was that?” he asks.
“Mommy Dearest.” I offer a cheesy smile and he smirks at me knowingly.
“What did she want?”
“To piss me off.”
He laughs as he grabs my feet and places them on his lap. I set my laptop on the coffee table in front of me and settle back into the cushions.
“Be nice,” he teases while squeezing my toes.
“I’m always nice, sweet as molasses.” I laugh. “No, she wanted to know where her ticket was to the carnival, implying that I forgot her — like I ever could. I told her we’ll meet her there and go in together.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He smiles at me and then looks down at his phone where he's watching racing highlights. He gently rubs my foot with his free hand.
I’ve been working up the courage to have a conversation about our relationship and sex life for the last three days, and now seems as good a time as any.
Is it hot in here?
Clearing my throat, I whisper, “Love.”
Lowering his phone, his unassuming eyes meet mine. “Yeah?”
