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Thank God.
“Okay, Linz. I’ll talk to you later. Congratulations again!”
I hung up the phone.
“Another one of your friends is getting married?” My mom’s question sounded innocent enough, but I felt the sting just the same.
“Yeah. You remember Lindsay? The one who had the botched nose job sophomore year?”
“Oh, right.” Mom nodded. “But she looked lovely when it all got fixed in the end.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Her parents had flown her to some world-renowned plastic surgeon to fix the horrible first surgery. Her nose looked fine in the end, but no one in our high school had forgotten the first outcome. She endured countless ‘nose’ jokes throughout high school. It should have made her more compassionate and sensitive to others, but she was still an entitled, snobby bitch. We’d been friends only because it was far easier to stay on her good side.
Mom put down her phone and looked up with a smile. “Sweetie, I’m going to take a shower. I’ve made dinner reservations for 7 o’clock at the Rusty Anchor. Have you ever been there before?”
“No. I’ve never heard of it.”
“The Henderson’s recommended it. Why don’t you wear that emerald green dress that I like so much?”
My brow crinkled. “I wasn’t planning on dressing up that much. It’s just dinner.”
My mom dismissed my words with a headshake. “I’m wearing my blue Oscar de la Renta. Ooh, I know. How about you wear that black off-the-shoulder dress? It’s not as formal and it looks so lovely on you.”
An argument formed on my tongue, but I bit it back. It was better to pick my battles with her, and this wasn’t one I needed to win.
Honestly, it surprised me she wasn’t asking more about Scotty, my fake boyfriend. She’d peppered me with a million questions about him when we got back from the coffee shop, but I’d done my best to give her the run-around. That she’d given up so easily was suspicious, but I’d take the reprieve. I had a feeling she was gearing up to give me the third degree over dinner, so I needed to get my story straight in my head.
How could I juggle this lie that had grown so dramatically in the past few hours? Unless I came clean, the only answer was to lie some more, which didn’t sit well with me. Her meeting a real person as my boyfriend and having a name and face to go along with the idea of him was like adding kindling to the fire of her curiosity. I was toast.
Needing a way out of this mess, I racked my brain. I could tell her we were having troubles, and that I was ready to break up with him. Then I would tell her that I didn’t want to ruin her visit by talking about him, but I knew that wouldn’t shake her. She’d step into the counselor role to console me and ask me a million more questions about our relationship.
My brain grappled with the problem for the rest of the afternoon while Mom remained suspiciously silent about Scotty when normally she’d be relentless. It was making me super nervous.
While I got ready for dinner, I came up with a million scenarios in my head about my supposed boyfriend, each more preposterous than the next. Even though I was desperate to come up with a reasonable story to tell my mom and time was running out, my mind kept drifting. I was daydreaming about Scotty. Underneath his sloppy clothes, I could tell that the man was built. And he was so damn attractive. He dressed like a bum but had a level of arrogance to him that was insanely appealing. He was just the kind of loser I usually fell for.
I stared into the mirror and realized I went a little heavier on the makeup than I wanted to. I wasn’t about to wash it off and start all over, so I just sighed. Mom would love that I was getting all dolled up. Besides, if I was going to wear the black dress that Mom wanted, I might as well complete the look. Instead of tossing my hair into a sleek, long ponytail as I’d planned, I pulled out the curling iron, added soft wavy curls to my hair, and let it cascade down my back.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was almost time to leave for the restaurant and I still hadn’t come up with a solid plan.
Frankly, I was wondering if it would be better overall if I just came out and admitted the truth. She’d be so disappointed that I’d lied to her all these months, but what else could I do? Everything had become too complicated. I’d only lied in the first place to get some breathing room from all her questions and to stop her from worrying about me in a new city. I’d just needed a reprieve from her kind-hearted meddling in my love life.
Mentally exhausted, I rubbed at my temples. I didn’t enjoy lying to my mom. Keeping up the pretense of having a boyfriend was draining my energy. Now that Mom had met him, she wasn’t going to let this go. Her eyes had sparkled with glee when she’d first clapped eyes on him. She was deliriously happy that I’d found Scotty.
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. I was even starting to think of Scotty as my real fake boyfriend when he was just a fake, fake-boyfriend. How did I ever let things get this far?
My mom looked gorgeous. Her dress hugged her curves, her makeup hid the tiny signs of aging that I’d just started noticing, and her blonde hair looked elegant in a French twist. It wasn’t the first time that I’d noticed how much we looked alike, nor was it the first time I said a silent prayer that I’d age just as beautifully.
The biggest difference in our looks was that she was about 20 pounds heavier than me. Mom enjoyed eating and thoroughly despised working out. I hardly ever ate out and so far my metabolism kept my weight in check naturally. I’d cross the diet/workout bridge when I came to it.
Mom and I posed together while my dad snapped several photos of us with Mom’s cell phone. When my mom was satisfied with the pictures, we left my apartment and headed out to the waiting taxi.
On the car ride to the restaurant, my parents discussed an issue my dad was having with one of his employees. I tuned out their conversation as I stared out the window.
I’d made my decision. If Mom started asking about Scotty, as painful as it would be, I was going to come clean about the whole thing. The fake boyfriend had started with a small fib over the phone. Now, it had tangled into something much more complicated and my conscience was balking. I’d explain to Mom how I was doing the “no man” plan and that I was happy with it. I wouldn’t tell her what happened with my boss, but I’d let her know that another breakup had me hightailing it out of Kentucky for a fresh start.
My mom slipped her arm through mine as we stepped into the restaurant. “I hope we didn’t bore you with all the shop talk, sweetie. I think we got it all out of our system.”
My parents always talked about Dad’s work. Mom had always been a good sounding board for him, and she understood the nuts and bolts of Dad’s business better than most of his employees did.
