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Much, much worse.
Mom continues to talk up Alastair as if he was the first man to discover chocolate. And Alastair continues to inch closer and closer, praising me for how amazing the dinner is and how the dress I’m wearing is just made for me.
He touches me far more than what’s appropriate or wanted.
Mom bats her eyes at him in a flirtatious move that has me wrinkling my nose.
When I offer the cheesecake I made for dessert, my mother presses a hand to her stomach and announces she wouldn’t dream of eating something so fattening.
“With your figure? You can indulge a little, Celeste.”
“Oh, maybe one bite, then,” she coos. “It’s been so long since I’ve had sugar, I don’t know how my body will react.”
Alastair’s eyes focus on her breasts and he says, “I’m sure yourbodywill react just fine to a little sugar.”
Gross.
I, on the other hand, am not afraid of what a little sugar will do to me and eat two slices.
When it’s time to say good night, I breathe a sigh of relief until…
“What do you say, Hadley?”
“Hmm?” I ask, picking up the plates from the table to bring them to the kitchen.
“I asked if you’d like to go dancing.”
“Oh, what a great idea! Sounds fun!” Mom exclaims.
“Why don’t you go on, then, Mom? I need to talk to Brooklyn anyway.”
Alastair fumbles but recovers quickly, agreeing to take my mom dancing. She protests, but only for a moment. She’s staring up at Alastair with stars in her eyes and her chest pushed out.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say to Alastair.
Mom’s eyes widen and she grabs my arm in a firm grip. “Are you sure you can’t join us? Brooklyn will understand, sweetie.”
“We can wait for a bit so you can talk with her first,” Alastair suggests.
“What a wonderful idea! Go along. Call Brooklyn and we’ll wait. Ten minutes?”
“No, Mom, I…”
“Hush. I need to go out dancing. This sounds like the perfect way to clear my head. You know, from everything that’s going on.”
Her meaningful look is only a guilt trip and I hate myself a little when I cave.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll be back.”
* * *
“This was such a wonderful idea!” Mom cries out, shimmying in her place by the high-top table.
It actually wasn’t. It was a terrible idea. Alastair keeps asking if I’ll dance with him, my mom continues to push us together while flirting shamelessly with Alastair and any other man who approaches her, and I just want to go home. The music is too loud, there are too many bodies around me, and my feet are killing me from these stupid shoes.
“Just one dance,” Alastair begs.
I glance at Mom who motions with her head to join him.
