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“Oh, that’s good. Maybe I’ll have you do my hair sometime.” She patted her short gray hair and it didn’t even move an inch she had so much hairspray in it.
“You’re full of shit, Mom. You have been seeing Patty for thirty years,” Weston called her out and I hid my smile behind my glass of water.
Alan pulled his head out of his paper. “He’s right, honey.”
She patted her hair again. “Maybe I want something different.”
Alan shook his head and went back to his paper.
“What about your family?” she asked me.
This was the most uncomfortable of all conversations. “I don’t have a relationship with my family and my husband was an orphan.”
Weston’s eyes took me in and I felt exposed, laid bare. For some reason, I didn’t want him to know how truly alone I was.
“I see,” she said, quickly changing the subject like the polite Southern woman she was. “Well, let’s just get to the nitty-gritty. How long have y’all been seeing each other?” she asked, eyeing West and then me.
Almost simultaneously, we both started. “Oh, we’re not—”
I stopped and let him continue. “We’re just friends, Mom. Cool your jets.”
She nodded. “Yes, I mow all of my friend’s lawns.”
Looked like Ms. Beverly went to the same fuck buddy school that Miranda did.
Weston gave her a hard eye roll. “I was there working on her truck and noticed the yard, Mom. It’s not a big deal.” He stood up from the table, grabbed both my plate and his, and headed toward the kitchen, seemingly completely done with this line of conversation.
“Naturally. I also fix all of my friend’s trucks,” she smarted to him.
This time I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
She and Miranda had definitely gone to school together.
Weston came back to the room, collecting more dishes off the table while his mom went on.
“Well, then if you and Emily here aren’t dating, then what about Vanessa next door? She’s still available.”
I almost choked on the water I had just taken a sip of. I started sputtering and coughing.
Ms. Beverly looked at me like the cat that ate the canary. She knew what she was doing.
“Behave, Bev,” Alan said, barely sparing us a glance, which told me this kind of shit happened all the time in this family.
I glanced up at Weston, who was staring at me like I’d failed him. And I had. I so had.
I was not good at playing it cool.
His mom was playing a game I couldn’t win. She was good at this shit and I had no practice.
I stood up from the table, helping Weston. It was time to go before she somehow figured out that Weston and I had made filthy, dirty love on that couch ten feet away and we hadn’t even known each other’s names.
That was how good she was. I could see the writing on the wall.
“I should be getting home,” I said, laying the groundwork for getting the hell out of there. “Just let me help y’all straighten up first.”
Beverly was right behind me as I made my way to the kitchen. “Don’t rush off on our account, honey. We won’t be here much longer, anyway.”
It was dark out and I got the distinct impression she thought I was staying over. I had to set the record straight. “I have to get home. My kiddo is waiting on me,” I said, putting dishes in the dishwasher.
