A La Carte by Tanita S. Davis Page B

the new “busboy” how to tie her red silk tie in the traditional half-Windsor knot the waitstaff use. The girl looks rushed but smiles at me as she leaves, wrapping her long white apron around her black slacks. I laugh when I settle into Mom’s desk chair and look at the notes on her computer.
    â€œI thought you didn’t like my idea for carrot macaroons.”
    Mom sighs and rolls her eyes. “I was trying to get it out of my mind. My
Southern Melodies
cookbook has a recipe that uses a cup of mashed carrots, but I haven’t found anything I like in the macaroon category.” Mom shrugs. “If you can find me something that works, I’ll put your name to it in the menu.”
    â€œWhat’s the special tonight?” I ask as my mother buttons herself into the white silk jacket she wears during dinner. It isn’t anything I would cook in, but Mom mostly walks around smiling and schmoozing, and the coat, with its double row of knotted frog fastenings, rarely gets dirty. Mom has four of them just in case one does.
    â€œI think we’ve got a garlic squid pasta,” Mom says, pulling out the low chef’s toque she wears with the formal chef’s jacket, “and Pia’s said something about a pecan-encrusted catfish. The soup is white asparagus with prawn and coconut milk, a little spicy, very warming for this nippy evening, a nice pumpkin curry soup as well…and then there’s the usual.”
    I nod, trying to keep my face still as I think of squid pasta. Bleeuch. In my cooking show of the future, we’ll only have vegetarian dishes. To me, animals are pretty much either too ugly to consider eating or too cute to imagine dead.
    â€œI’ll come up for some of Pia’s fresh spring rolls later on. I’ve got to finish a paper.”
    Mom doesn’t look at me. “If you’d like, we can run by Sim’s job, that Soy World place, after the rush is over and have some coffee.”
    I blink.
    My mother turns back toward the closet, rummaging for her lipstick. “Only if you want to,” she goes on. “And if it wouldn’t bother him.”
    I bite my lip, considering. Mom is still bugged by the whole Sim thing, and I can’t tell where she’s going with it. Does she think I need her to come with me to see him?
    â€œMaybe another time,” I say uncomfortably. “I really should work on this paper.”
    Mom turns back around, fiddling with an eyelash curler. “All right,” she says absently. “Another time, then. It was just a thought.” She closes the closet door and does a turn. “Do I pass?” She gestures at her outfit.
    I nod. “You look fine.”
    â€œAll righty, then. See ya.” My mother gives a quick wave and steps out.
    I drop my chin into my palm and frown at the door.
    My mother is driving me nuts. She’s constantly saying I don’t have enough friends, then the minute one comes over, she starts making rules about how we can hang out. Now she’s taking a huge interest in Simeon—and wants to hang out and watch him work? I can’t say I like how this feels. I have no idea what my mother’s up to. But when it’s my mother? It can’t be good.

6
    â€œHey, so, was your mom okay last night? You’re not in trouble with her or anything, are you?” To my happy surprise, Sim is waiting at my desk in physics the next day.
    I can barely keep a smile off my face. “No. Mom’s cool. You know how she is.”
    â€œYeah.” Sim nods, relieved. “Look. You know that stuff you guys got when your grandma died? Think your mom would care if I took some of it?”
    â€œNo…” I make a face, imagining the boxes crammed into the guest room closet. “Why?”
    Sim grins and lowers his voice. “I got my place last night.”
    â€œNo way!”
    â€œWay.” Simeon leans close. “It’s two blocks from Soy, and