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I knew nothing I could say wouldn't start a fight, so I asked the question that was burning in my mind.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, changing the subject as I wiped the paint from my hands onto my overalls again.
My mother watched the action with disdain in her eyes.
"How about you go get cleaned up? I'll make us something to eat, and then we can discuss things," my mother said with her nose scrunched up.
I raised an eyebrow in question before glancing at my door.
It could use another coat of paint, but I could always do that tomorrow.
"Fine."
We went inside, and I went to shower. I undressed and stared at myself in the mirror. I had red paint on my face and hair, but I knew a long shower would help. No wonder my mother was judgmental; I looked like I survived a murder scene.
As I scrubbed myself clean, I couldn't help but wonder what my mother was doing here. Usually, when she came and visited, it was quick and to the point. Today, though, she was cooking lunch while I was showering. It was peculiar.
I hoped she wouldn't try to set me up with anyone, but if that was the case, then she must have had another important reason for being here.
After I exited the shower, I changed into a flowing floral maxi skirt and a white top. I knew my mother would approve of the girly attire, and I had to admit, I did look rather cute.
"Now, that's what I like to see," my mother said once I walked into the kitchen. "You clean up very well."
"Thanks, Mom. What are you making?"
I could smell the Italian seasoning from the doorway. I was leaning in, but I wasn't sure what Mom was cooking since she was blocking the stove.
"Spaghetti. It should be done in a few minutes. Come, take a seat," my mother said as she gestured toward my island.
I sat at one of the bar stools and leaned my head on my hands as I stared at my mother while she cooked.
She flitted around the kitchen, tossing seasoning into the meat sauce as the noodles boiled.
"How is Dad doing?" I asked.
My mother glanced up from the stirring. "He's doing good. Wishes he could have come with me today, but you know how work is. It keeps him busy."
She put the finishing touches in the sauce before announcing that lunch was done.
It smelled amazing, and she set a heaping bowl of spaghetti down in front of me before sitting next to me on one of the bar stools. I noticed she hadn't poured herself a bowl.
"Mom, why are you here?" I asked again as I dug into the meal.
It tasted delicious. Home-cooked meals by my mother were always yummy. I missed her cooking, but it wasn't always worth it when we constantly had the same conversations over and over again.
"Honey," my mother started before facing me with a wide grin. "My friend from yoga, Laura, has a son who is a pilot. He and Laura are coming over for dinner tonight, and I was hoping you would come and join us."
"But, Mom, you just fed me."
Why would she come here, cook me a meal, and then expect me to join them for dinner? She knew how I felt about these setups anyway. Her logic made little sense unless she was trying to bribe me by showing how good of a cook she was.
"Because I wanted to show you what you would be missing. Tonight, we have baked tilapia. I know that's your favorite."
My mother wasn't wrong. I loved fish, especially tilapia. Still, I would need to find a way to join her and my setup for dinner. I had no desire to meet another man, even if he was a pilot. All the men my mother had set me up with were the same.
Rich. Shallow. Boring.
"Mom, I'm busy tonight. If you had given me more notice, I might have fit it into my schedule," I lied.
