opportunity to have her over, too,” she explains in detail. Too much detail.
I huff. “Life isn’t like those books you read, Ma.”
“I know, but I want you to be happy,” she tells me and now I feel like a total asshole for snapping at her.
“I know, Ma. I actually just started dating someone and I really like her. I don’t want to ruin it before I get to see where it can go.”
“You don’t have to marry her. Just meet her. We’ll have dinner. You may like her,” she tries again.
I bow my head in defeat. “What did you tell her about me?” I ask in annoyance.
“Nothing, honestly. Just that you are the same age. And also enjoy reading.”
“I’ll stay for dinner, Ma, but nothing more. I want to see where this is going with my new girl.”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Yeah. So far she’s been great.”
“What’s her name?”
“Violet.” I smile just saying her name. I’m a total goner.
“Like the flower?” she asks, smiling, probably because I’m smiling.
“Like my flower.”
My mother nods in understanding just as the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” My dad shouts as he pushes through the swinging door that leads from the kitchen out to the great room where we are still standing. He gives me a slap on the back in greeting as he passes by. “Son,” he acknowledges with affection.
My mother and I follow him to the door. I grab my balls and suck it up, as my manners win over my frustration with my mother. It’s not this poor girl’s fault.
I lean down to my mom’s ear and ask quietly, “So what’s her name anyway?”
But my father opens the door before my mother is able to speak, and I get the answer myself. Shit.
This is bad. This is very bad.
Like Seinfeld opening the door to Newman, I grit my teeth and welcome our guest.
“Susie,” I bite out.
But Susie just stands there like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widen like saucers, and for a split second, she actually looks…genuine? Within seconds, I see her facial expression morph into a manipulative-bitch face, and know this is not going to be a pleasant evening.
“Oh good! You already know each other; this should be fun!” my mother says then welcomes her into the house, completely oblivious to my disdain.
“So nice to see you again, ma’am,” she says sickeningly sweet.
“Please, call me Angela, dear. And this is my husband, Tom,” she introduces my father.
My hands ball involuntarily into fists as I try to contain my annoyance. My father notices my change in demeanor and sends me a questioning look. I just shake my head, silently telling him, “don’t ask.”
“Of course, Angela. What a beautiful home you have,” she sucks up some more and my lunch makes it’s way back up.
“Thank you, Susie. How kind of you,” my mother falls for her fake act.
“Why don’t we eat,” I suggest, wanting to get this night over as quickly as possible. There will be no more before dinner chitchat.
I help my mother carry all of the food and drinks to the table to expedite the process.
“Don’t get any funny ideas, Ma,” I say while we are alone in the kitchen gathering everything.
Her homemade meatloaf is usually my favorite, but the acrid taste in my mouth that Susie created completely killed my taste buds. What a fucking disappointment.
“Dear, why don’t you sit next to Susie so you can catch up.”
My mother points to the two chairs that are side by side. She and my father are already sitting at the heads of the table, but there is absolutely no reason for us to be sitting next to each other. I don’t want to be anywhere near her to be honest.
“That’s alright, Ma. I can sit across from her. That’s close enough,” I say.
“Don’t be silly, Jordan.” My mother is still clueless. She doesn’t sense the hostility oozing from my pores.
“Darling, let your son sit where he would like.” My dad comes to my rescue.
My father obviously feels
I huff. “Life isn’t like those books you read, Ma.”
“I know, but I want you to be happy,” she tells me and now I feel like a total asshole for snapping at her.
“I know, Ma. I actually just started dating someone and I really like her. I don’t want to ruin it before I get to see where it can go.”
“You don’t have to marry her. Just meet her. We’ll have dinner. You may like her,” she tries again.
I bow my head in defeat. “What did you tell her about me?” I ask in annoyance.
“Nothing, honestly. Just that you are the same age. And also enjoy reading.”
“I’ll stay for dinner, Ma, but nothing more. I want to see where this is going with my new girl.”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Yeah. So far she’s been great.”
“What’s her name?”
“Violet.” I smile just saying her name. I’m a total goner.
“Like the flower?” she asks, smiling, probably because I’m smiling.
“Like my flower.”
My mother nods in understanding just as the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” My dad shouts as he pushes through the swinging door that leads from the kitchen out to the great room where we are still standing. He gives me a slap on the back in greeting as he passes by. “Son,” he acknowledges with affection.
My mother and I follow him to the door. I grab my balls and suck it up, as my manners win over my frustration with my mother. It’s not this poor girl’s fault.
I lean down to my mom’s ear and ask quietly, “So what’s her name anyway?”
But my father opens the door before my mother is able to speak, and I get the answer myself. Shit.
This is bad. This is very bad.
Like Seinfeld opening the door to Newman, I grit my teeth and welcome our guest.
“Susie,” I bite out.
But Susie just stands there like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widen like saucers, and for a split second, she actually looks…genuine? Within seconds, I see her facial expression morph into a manipulative-bitch face, and know this is not going to be a pleasant evening.
“Oh good! You already know each other; this should be fun!” my mother says then welcomes her into the house, completely oblivious to my disdain.
“So nice to see you again, ma’am,” she says sickeningly sweet.
“Please, call me Angela, dear. And this is my husband, Tom,” she introduces my father.
My hands ball involuntarily into fists as I try to contain my annoyance. My father notices my change in demeanor and sends me a questioning look. I just shake my head, silently telling him, “don’t ask.”
“Of course, Angela. What a beautiful home you have,” she sucks up some more and my lunch makes it’s way back up.
“Thank you, Susie. How kind of you,” my mother falls for her fake act.
“Why don’t we eat,” I suggest, wanting to get this night over as quickly as possible. There will be no more before dinner chitchat.
I help my mother carry all of the food and drinks to the table to expedite the process.
“Don’t get any funny ideas, Ma,” I say while we are alone in the kitchen gathering everything.
Her homemade meatloaf is usually my favorite, but the acrid taste in my mouth that Susie created completely killed my taste buds. What a fucking disappointment.
“Dear, why don’t you sit next to Susie so you can catch up.”
My mother points to the two chairs that are side by side. She and my father are already sitting at the heads of the table, but there is absolutely no reason for us to be sitting next to each other. I don’t want to be anywhere near her to be honest.
“That’s alright, Ma. I can sit across from her. That’s close enough,” I say.
“Don’t be silly, Jordan.” My mother is still clueless. She doesn’t sense the hostility oozing from my pores.
“Darling, let your son sit where he would like.” My dad comes to my rescue.
My father obviously feels
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