Like the rest of the house, the dining room had hardly changed. The solid oak table had been a present from her parents and was made in Merryville. At one end, her China hutch showed off the good plates, the ones that only came out for Wednesday dinners and holidays. I spotted a corner where the floral wallpaper had peeled away from the wall. I’d argue with her to peel it down and put up a coat of paint, but it’d fall on deaf ears.
“I miss him,” she admitted.
“Me too.” There wasn’t a day that passed where I didn’t think about him. “You know he’s watching us.”
“He was always a nosy bastard,” she said. I squeezed her tighter, and she didn’t stop me. We were always a close family. When I moved out, Mom acted as if I were moving across the country. It took two minutes,exactlytwo minutes, to drive from my house to hers.
“I’m not going to wait for you.” She ducked out of my arms and pulled off her apron. Tossing her muscular physique on the back of her chair, she pulled up to the table.
I went into the kitchen to wash my hands while she started plating the food. “Is Amanda coming tonight?”
“I don’t think so. She’s having one of those artistic fits. She’ll be in the studio half the night.” It might be partly because I made her cover the store for part of the day. After theincident,I had to run home and change. It’d beawkward to greet customers with dry white stains on my t-shirt.
“You both work too hard.”
I pulled out a chair and sat across the table from my mom. It was hard to not notice the extra place setting. Either out of habit or to honor his memory, she always left a place for Dad. If I asked, she’d claim she did it for Amanda, but she wasn’t fooling anybody.
“So, are you going to tell me how the date went?”
The meatloaf hadn’t hit my plate before she inquired about my love life. Usually, I wasn’t even at the table before she asked. I knew she didn’t mean my liaison this afternoon, but I couldn’t help but think about Simon’s hand squeezing mine. No, she wanted to know about theactualdate I had gone on.
“It was okay.”
Her eyes narrowed as she held the butter knife. “But…” She locked eyes, refusing to let me dodge the question. We needed to revisit the boundaries conversation.
“There was no chemistry.”
“What does that even mean?” I loved her. Every time Mom met a gay man, she would drop my name. It’d be cute if she didn’t act like my pimp. She pointed at me with the knife before buttering her bread. No more episodes ofI Married the Mob.
“We had nothing in common. Tim is an accountant.”
“I’m hearing your date had a steady job.”
“He spent half the night talking about finances. Do you know what kills the mood? Profit margins. It was onlydownhill from there. How can I date a man who doesn’t have a favorite superhero?”
“Sentinel, of course,” she said. “That beard…”
“We shouldnotbe attracted to the same men.” She flashed a smile. My love of bears might have something to do with my dad and his burly physique. I’m sure I should discuss this with my therapist. The last time he shaved his beard, Mom made him sleep on the couch. He was only allowed back into the bedroom once the stubble hid his chin.
“How was he in the sack?”
“Mom!”
“I’m not a prude. I know what goes on.”
Nope. We were not having this conversation. It didn’t help that Tim was possibly my number one worst lay. I should have suspected it when he couldn’t kiss worth a damn. At best, I’d describe his attempts as slobbering. If he had kissed like Simon, maybe our one-night stand would have had a repeat.
Simon. He knew how to kiss. It was the perfect amount of pressure, not too much tongue, and no slobbering. He got an A+ on technique, but it was the mix of eagerness and yearning that made my pants tight. Him? He wouldn’t have to ask for another chance. I’d gladly throw myself at him.
“Way you’re blushing; looks like Tim wasn’t half bad.”
“We are not having this conversation.”
“Why the red face, mister?”
How did I explain it in a way she’d understand? I go from one failed date to a random hookup? She might not bea prude, but I don’t think she’d quite understand gay culture. Yes, some of us said our first hello’s on our knees. I didn’t need Mom thinking I was a ho… even if it might be true.
“What about you? Seeing anybody?” Ha! Take that.
