face. Not a real smile, sure, but my mom isn't picky.
"Here you go, sweetheart," she leans down to set a big glass of milk next to my plate with her hand on my shoulder.
"Thanks, Ma."
She takes a second to ruffle my hair and I dip my head down in a half-hearted attempt at dodging her grasp. Now that she has that little display out of the way, she continues this embarrassment train as she sinks into her chair across from my dad and directs her attention to the fourth member of our table.
"So, Payton, how is everything going at the bar? I hope my boys are treating you okay."
"Everything's great," she replies politely as my dad passes her a plate of mashed potatoes. "I really love working with all of you."
That sweet smile on my mom's face just reeks of manipulation and honestly, I feel bad for Payton. She's a nice girl and with her dark curly hair and doe-eyes, I probably should feel at least a spark of interest on principle alone.
But I don't. And she really doesn't deserve what's happening here tonight.
The poor girl's only been waitressing for us for a couple of weeks and already, my mom's got her sights set on her like this is her last hope at ever getting any grandchildren. But, seeing as how the baby of the family is in prison and her oldest son has been married without any kids for years, I can't really hold it against her.
So, for her sake, I endure the rest of this dinner, filled with awkward small-talk and too many hopeful nudges from my mom to get me to ask Payton out for a 'real' dinner. Thankfully, after she's doled out the apple pie and ice cream, Payton sees the writing on the wall and politely heads home.
"I don't understand you," my mom wags a finger at me as she sweeps my empty plate off the table. "She's a sweet girl, Jack. You could've at least offered to walk her to her car or something."
Finally, after some long, bated silence during dinner, my dad chimes in without even looking up from his paperwork. "Maybe he just didn't want to get her hopes up, Maura. You know, unlike some other people in this room."
She shoots my dad an exasperated glance from over her shoulder. "So sue me for trying, Roark."
My dad just shakes his head and checks out of this conversation by flipping a page over. Now, unfortunately, that means the attention is back on me.
"I'm sorry," she lifts a shoulder and drops a plate into the sink. "I just thought the two of you would hit it off...maybe make a nice couple down the road."
I meet my dad's eyes from across the table and his lips pull apart in a wince. We both know exactly how this conversation is going to go and we also know it has more to do with Sean than it does with me. Still, I'm surprised she hasn't dropped the whole you're 30 now, Jack, and you're not getting any younger argument. So, I have to make a choice here: I can play along and make her happy or I can be honest.
"Ma," I smile softly and reach for her hand. "I like working with her—at least, from the few times I've actually worked with her."
"You like her?" her voice is filled with so much hope and for a second, I almost give her what she wants just because I don't want to do anything to make that hope disappear.
"Sure, Ma. I like her. And if I decide I want to see her outside of the bar again, maybe let me do it on my own terms next time? I mean, come on, it doesn't make me look too good if I got my mom settin' up dates for me, yah know?"
She huffs out a laugh, but she squeezes my hand and that smile on her face tells me I've made my point.
"Okay," she laughs and with that, goes back to putting the rest of our dishes in the sink. "You better make sure you stay for another piece of pie before you head off to work though."
Crisis averted.
"Ah, I don't know," I pat my stomach a little, but she's probably not going to take no for an answer. "You trying to fatten up or somethin', Ma?"
"Never," she grins.
She doesn't give me any time before setting another plate of that sinful apple pie in front of
"Here you go, sweetheart," she leans down to set a big glass of milk next to my plate with her hand on my shoulder.
"Thanks, Ma."
She takes a second to ruffle my hair and I dip my head down in a half-hearted attempt at dodging her grasp. Now that she has that little display out of the way, she continues this embarrassment train as she sinks into her chair across from my dad and directs her attention to the fourth member of our table.
"So, Payton, how is everything going at the bar? I hope my boys are treating you okay."
"Everything's great," she replies politely as my dad passes her a plate of mashed potatoes. "I really love working with all of you."
That sweet smile on my mom's face just reeks of manipulation and honestly, I feel bad for Payton. She's a nice girl and with her dark curly hair and doe-eyes, I probably should feel at least a spark of interest on principle alone.
But I don't. And she really doesn't deserve what's happening here tonight.
The poor girl's only been waitressing for us for a couple of weeks and already, my mom's got her sights set on her like this is her last hope at ever getting any grandchildren. But, seeing as how the baby of the family is in prison and her oldest son has been married without any kids for years, I can't really hold it against her.
So, for her sake, I endure the rest of this dinner, filled with awkward small-talk and too many hopeful nudges from my mom to get me to ask Payton out for a 'real' dinner. Thankfully, after she's doled out the apple pie and ice cream, Payton sees the writing on the wall and politely heads home.
"I don't understand you," my mom wags a finger at me as she sweeps my empty plate off the table. "She's a sweet girl, Jack. You could've at least offered to walk her to her car or something."
Finally, after some long, bated silence during dinner, my dad chimes in without even looking up from his paperwork. "Maybe he just didn't want to get her hopes up, Maura. You know, unlike some other people in this room."
She shoots my dad an exasperated glance from over her shoulder. "So sue me for trying, Roark."
My dad just shakes his head and checks out of this conversation by flipping a page over. Now, unfortunately, that means the attention is back on me.
"I'm sorry," she lifts a shoulder and drops a plate into the sink. "I just thought the two of you would hit it off...maybe make a nice couple down the road."
I meet my dad's eyes from across the table and his lips pull apart in a wince. We both know exactly how this conversation is going to go and we also know it has more to do with Sean than it does with me. Still, I'm surprised she hasn't dropped the whole you're 30 now, Jack, and you're not getting any younger argument. So, I have to make a choice here: I can play along and make her happy or I can be honest.
"Ma," I smile softly and reach for her hand. "I like working with her—at least, from the few times I've actually worked with her."
"You like her?" her voice is filled with so much hope and for a second, I almost give her what she wants just because I don't want to do anything to make that hope disappear.
"Sure, Ma. I like her. And if I decide I want to see her outside of the bar again, maybe let me do it on my own terms next time? I mean, come on, it doesn't make me look too good if I got my mom settin' up dates for me, yah know?"
She huffs out a laugh, but she squeezes my hand and that smile on her face tells me I've made my point.
"Okay," she laughs and with that, goes back to putting the rest of our dishes in the sink. "You better make sure you stay for another piece of pie before you head off to work though."
Crisis averted.
"Ah, I don't know," I pat my stomach a little, but she's probably not going to take no for an answer. "You trying to fatten up or somethin', Ma?"
"Never," she grins.
She doesn't give me any time before setting another plate of that sinful apple pie in front of
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