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“There’s no way around it. It means our date is still open and we’ll need to close it as soon as possible.” I nodded sternly.
“Whatever it takes to fix this debacle. Just say when and where.”
Throwing caution to the wind, I placed my hand on her neck and gently pulled her closer to me. I kissed her leisurely, tasting her on my tongue, not ready to go on my way.
“Last night was incredible,” I said, with our lips still touching.
“It was marvelous,” she agreed.
“Although I did miss waking up with you by my side.” I gave her a small peck. Then another one. And a third, just for good measure. “I need to work, but I’ll see you soon. I’ll talk to you even sooner.”
“I hope so. I need a repeat of last night.”
“I’ll give you as many as you want.” I hoped I could fulfill that promise.
Benjamin made good on his promises. We “closed” our first date. Then went on another. And another. And another. We kept going as the weeks went by.
We went out together. He came to my place so I could cook for him. We ordered take-out to eat at his place when neither of us wanted the trouble of cooking. Every time, we spent the night together. He came to Beans almost every day he was in town, and whenever he was away, we texted. That also happened when he was in town.
After that first morning-after encounter with Mia, I tried to ignore my jealousy, especially because Ben never gave me a reason to doubt him. He said they were friends, and I needed to take his word for it. I trusted him. I just wasn’t sure about her.
As the weeks went by and we got to know each other better, I noticed my feelings growing out of my control. I didn’t want to assume, but it seemed to me his feelings were brewing as well.
We walked around town holding hands, I met some of his other friends, although we had yet to hang out together. I didn’t wanna push Ben on that matter. I knew he had his reasons to be cautious; I didn’t know what they were, though.
Maybe that was why I’d started to feel uneasy whenever I woke up. Whether we were together or apart, my stomach would give me a hard time, and I’d feel queasy. It didn’t help he was away, working with Mia. The only silver lining was that he was coming back soon.
But it wasn’t enough to keep my qualms away. It was one of those days when just the thought of eating something made me feel nauseated. I thought if I could just talk about this unrest with him, I’d feel better. I was still considering that when I felt my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans.
My cheerfulness died down fast when I saw it wasn’t Ben, but rather my mother who was calling me. Unable to put aside her calls any longer, I answered her. “Hi, Mother.”
“Look at that, you do remember I exist. I guess dealing with your little shop takes away your care about who gave birth to you.”
I held back my tongue, knowing it was just a trap to make me feel like a shitty daughter afterward. I regretted the day I texted her about Beans.
“How are you doing?”
“You would’ve known if you answered my calls. When did you become so selfish?”
Talking with her was always an exercise of patience and self-control. “Do you need anything?”
She snorted loudly. “As if you cared. It’s not enough that you ruined my body and put a damper on my life, I get to see the ungrateful bitch you’ve become.”
“You raised me,” I muttered. Not quietly enough.
“Why do I still bother with you, Isabella? You never appreciated all the sacrifices I made for you.”
Different place, always the same ringtone.
“Then why did you have me at all?” That question always plagued me. She never hid her displeasure at “dealing with me,” as she so lovely put it.
“Don’t you think I ask myself that every damn day?” she snapped, and I had to take a deep breath to keep my tears at bay. I knew how she felt, but it never hurt any less. “Anyway, I could use some money. That measly amount you sent me barely kept me afloat.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval and muttered, “Unbelievable.”
I should be the one saying that. I was trying to run a business, wary about the fact that so many new businesses failed in their first years. I was doing fine, but I needed to be cautious and not send money to a woman who only wore the title of “Mother” as an excuse to berate me and bully me into financing her.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Despite her hatred, I still couldn’t say no. If it was for feeling guilty for “ruining her life” or because I still wanted her love and approval, I had no idea. All I knew was that I was sick of her nastiness.
“I knew better than to deal with you,” she hissed. “Send it quick.” And then she hung up.
