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Matt
Things are tense between Dereck and me far after Rowan has bailed from the house. Her smell still lingers in the living-room; that sweet, sensual smell of hers that seems to follow me wherever I go. It’s pretty clear to me that I’m not the only one that feels this way, but I knew that from the beginning. I guess the only thing we have to do next is figure out which one of us she likes and wants to be with.
After all, I haven’t even given it a try yet. Rowan doesn’t know what she’s in for.
Besides, isn’t she still dating that dorky kid, Jason Something?
A new text message comes through my phone, and I swipe the screen to check it. It’s my mom.
Hi, honey, do you want to have dinner today?
I’m excited to hear from her, mostly because my mom is one of my favorite people in the world. If anyone can cheer me up, it’s her, and since Dereck is still stomping around the house, fuming over my cock block, I text my mom back and ask if she wants to meet at the Mexican Restaurant near campus for a light dinner. It doesn’t take her long to respond and, when she does, she tells me she’s on her way and to meet her there. I pull my jacket back on and go to my car, slamming the door behind me. I’m still super pissed–angry that Dereck had Rowan over, on our couch, with a strong drink of whiskey. These are things the three of us are supposed to tell each other. Nothing is a secret, not in this trio, and it makes me wonder exactly how much Dereck, and even Bryce, are hiding not only from me, but from each other.
I get to the restaurant a few minutes before my mom, so I get us a table and order her a diet coke, her favorite, and an appetizer of Mexican Pinwheels, her other favorite. The pretty, dark-haired waitress keeps eying me over the front counter, but I’m not interested. Honestly, I haven’t been interested in anybody since Rowan Bates walked into that bar.
Mom gets there just a few minutes later, coming through the door, breathless but smiling. I get to my feet as the tension and aggravation of the day melts away. My mom has always had that effect on me, even as a child, and even more so as an adult.
“Hi, baby,” Mom says, embracing me. I hug her back, noticing at once she’s even thinner than she had been the last time I saw her, less than two weeks ago. I worry if I hug her too tight, I’ll crack some ribs, and when I hold her out in front of me and look into her face, the taut skin on her cheeks is prominent, and her once silky dark hair is lackluster and delicate.
“Sit down, Mom.” I take the heavy winter coat she shrugs off and hang it on the rack near the door just as the server drops off the appetizer and our drinks. I make my way back to the table and slide into the booth, taking the frail hands my mom offers me on top of the table. “How are you feeling?” I ask. “Are you extra tired? How’s the nausea? Has the doctor given you any more information since we saw him last?”
“Oh, Matty,” Mom says, and her eyes still sparkle, the way they used to before the cancer caught up to her. “I miss having you around the house. But believe me, I’m okay. Just getting by day-to-day, okay?”
“I miss being there, too, Mom, but living on campus is fun.”
Mom nods, reaching for a pinwheel. She takes a small bite and puts it back down, but takes a sip of her soda. I know the chemo really hurts her appetite.
“Tell me everything,” she says, holding one of my hands between hers. Her skin is cold, not at all like it should be, and I resist the urge to flinch. “Everything and anything.”
“We’re only two weeks in,” I tell her, sipping my ice water. “But things aren’t bad. Stupid classes, mildly interesting people. Work keeps me busy in my downtime. You know how it is.”
Mom laughs, shaking her head. “Always the cynic, you are, Matthew James Nelson.”
“I know, you’ve been telling me that my entire life.” I meet Mom’s smile just as the waitress comes over again to take our order. She can’t stop staring at me, this waitress, and for some reason I’m annoyed. At any other time, with any other person, I’d be flattered. But not here, with my mom …
And especially not now since Rowan Bates is in the picture.
“How are the boys?” Mom asks, fiddling with the wrapper from her straw. I don’t need to ask who she’s talking about, because I already know. Dereck and Bryce, as children, she called her adopted sons. It’s pretty close to the truth, too. I’m an only child and Dereck and Bryce were always around. Even when Bryce got bounced from foster home to foster home, he always managed to make his way back to us. I know that even at one point, my mom tried to adopt Bryce officially, but something kept her from succeeding. Single parenthood. Money. Whatever it was, the odds were against her.
“They’re good,” I mutter. I must not sound as convincing as I hoped I did, because mom’s thin brows furrow.
“Are you boys fighting?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. It’s like we’re all back in elementary school punching each other out on the playground. “No, Mom, we’re not fighting, okay?”
“Then what’s wrong, baby?” She’s looking hard at me, and I know she can read me better than anyone else in the world. No matter how hard I try sometimes, nothing gets past my mom.
“Look, mom, it’s fine. My stupid problems are not even worth discussing right now, okay? I want to hear about you.”
My mom shakes her head, lips tightening in a purse. “You are my son, Matthew, and I am much more interested in your life than I am in my own. Now, tell me what’s going on with you. Something is bothering you, I can tell.”
I sigh and shake my head, knowing that if I don’t come clean with my petty college issues, my mom won’t just let it drop. She pushes me until I do.
“Fine, mom, it’s about a girl, okay?”
As the words flow from between my lips, Mom’s eyes pop nearly straight out of her skull. She coughs on the soda she just took a drink of and puts her hand over her mouth.
“A girl?” she repeats. When I nod, she shakes her head, as though the mere thought of a girl I could be interested in is unthinkable.
