Assuminghe was just busy, I carried on with my day. I trudged through a brief cleaningof the apartment, managed my social media accounts, and then, when I was aboutto curl up on the couch with the latest Dean Koontz novel, my phone rang.
Reachingfor it on the coffee table, I saw it was Mom. But I wished it had been Goose.
“Hey,Mom,” I answered, curling up on the couch with my book and cat at my side. “Howare you on this fine evening?”
“Good.I just wanted to check up on my favorite daughter and my grandson.”
“Didn’tyoujustcheck up on us this morning?” I laughed.
“Hey,if I want to call you twenty times throughout the day, I’m allowed. I’m yourmother.”
Ismiled, laying a hand over mybellyand rubbing overwhere I knew he was. “Well,weappreciatethe thought.”
“Areyou spending time with Brendan?”
Myhand stilled, as I inhaled sharply at the mention of my boyfriend's name.Knowing my mother's feelings toward him and how she relished collecting thingsto hold against him, I hesitated to mention that he wasn't, in fact, with me.But my annoyance toward Brendan was greater than my stubborn resolve to defendhim and his shortcomings, so I replied, “No, not tonight.”
“Youweren't with him the last time I called, either.”
“Wedon't spend every second together, Mom.”
“Doyoueverspend time with him?”
Isighed, rubbing at a headache starting to pierce my temple. “We just had lunchtogether earlier today.”
“Oh.Well, that's nice.”
“Yeah,it was okay.”
“Justokay?”
Witha groan, I flopped my head against the back of the couch beside Mrs. Potter,who stirred irritably and jumped down to find her bed.
“Canyou just pretend to like him?” I asked. “He'sgonnabe in all our lives forever, so you might as well learn to deal with him.”
“Isthat whatyou'redoing?”
“Mom,”I groaned, laying a hand over my eyes. “Seriously, come on.”
“I'msorry, I'm sorry. I promise to look for the good in Brendan,” she said, layingher begrudging tone on thick.
“Thank—”
“—ifyoupromise to sound happier when you talk about him. Okay?”
Ilaughed beside myself and shook my head. “I know, I know … We just … didn'thave a great day.” With that segue, I knew I had opened the floodgates that I’dintended to keep closed.
“Whathappened?” she asked, and I briefly told her about our dinner with friends thenight before, and the argument where Brendan's jealous paranoia and ugly envyhad gotten the better of him. When I was finished, I said, “I'm sure it'snothing, though. We've just been going through a lot, youknow?A lot of changes, and a lot of—”
“Yeah,but have youmaybeconsidered it might not benothing?”
Iscoffed, trying to ignore the way my cheeks instantly burned. “No, trust me;it's nothing.”
“Butyou said you do like this friend—what's his name?”
“Goose.”
“Goose,”she repeated, snickering with jest. “Where did that name come from?”
