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“He’s a real estate developer,” I say, then frown. “I think. I’m not exactly sure what he does.”
“Then how do you know he’s a real estate developer?”
"Because he has a bunch of property. I’m actually staying in one of them right now, so I’m not technically living with him.”
My mom is thoughtful for a few seconds, taking a sip of her coffee. “So, he’s just letting you stay there?”
“Yeah,” I respond, then realize how it sounds. “I mean, he’s letting me stay there, and in return, I watch out for the property and cook for him sometimes. But I'm more of a caretaker.”
“Oh.” There are different levels to her tone when she says the word, and she is once again quiet. When she does speak again, there is curiosity and a bit of hope in her tone. “Is he a nice gentleman?”
“Um, I guess,” Although ‘nice’ wouldn't be how I would describe Oliver, I guess him letting me stay in his cottage for free is pretty kind. “Yes, he is.”
“And how old is he?”
“Why does it matter?” I ask.
“If something were to happen, I think this is very important.”
“He’s forty, Mom,” I say and the silence following is deafening.
‘"Are you serious?” she asks, her voice horrified.
"Yes, Mom,” I say confused by her reaction. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Oh my god.” There is an even more dramatic pause and I can almost see my mother reaching for her smelling salts. Yes, she actually carries those around, don’t ask me why because I haven’t got a clue. “That’s quite a bit older than you, Delilah. And you’re dating this man? Is he…what do the kids call it…a sugar daddy?"
“We’re not dating,” I repeat, with my voice rising in exasperation. “And he’s not that old.”
“It doesn’t matter. I never wanted my daughter to be the kind of woman who sells her body to men for money." The disgust in her tone is clear and she shakes her head as though, tortured by the thought. "I raised you as a good girl, Delilah.”
What the hell? “That’s not what I’m doing, Mom.”
"Don't lie to me, Delilah. You know, Roger warned me about this when you moved to the big city. He warned me, but I just didn’t listen."
I stiffen the same way I always do when she mentions my stepfather. He and I have never gotten along, and I can see that he’s colored my mother’s perception of me too.
“I would never. And it’s very insulting that you would even suggest something like that.” I try to keep the anger from my voice, but this is crossing a line. My mother doesn’t know everything about Roger and my relationship, so she tends to take his side over me. “And Roger knows nothing about me.”
“That’s because you don’t give him a chance, honey,” my mother says. “You’ve never given him a chance, ever since you were a teenager.”
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about this,” In fact, I feel sick even thinking about it. My mother is wrong. I actually did give my stepfather a chance when I first met him.
He was the one who destroyed that.
I check my watch. “Mom, I have to go soon. I’m not sure I can stay for an entire meal. I have to start up for the day.” Oliver would be at my home any moment and he would be looking for breakfast.
“No, wait,” my mom interrupts. “I didn’t call to argue with you, hon. I’m just… I’m worried. But you can come home, sweetie. You know Roger’s business is doing pretty well, and he even said he could hire you as an office manager.”
“Thank you, but that’s a no,” I'm shaking my head emphatically as I'm saying it. That’s how vehement I am about this. “I’m not moving home, Mom. And I’m not working for Roger.”
"Yes, you are, and that's no question," my mother's voice starts to rise again. “I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this.”
“I’m not being difficult, Mom. I’m an adult, not a little kid anymore, and my life is there, in Landon. My friends are there, and I have better career options there.”
"What career options? As a cook for a rich man?” She sniffs indignantly before adding in a quieter tone, “A man whose bed you might be warming?”
Her accusation strikes me in the chest and I gasp from how much it hurts. A whore. That’s what my mom just implied again, that I’m a whore who's sleeping with a rich man for a place to stay. And it hurts. I expected that from Roger but not from my own mother.
