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spoke, knowing Will would know it was directed at him.  So, seeing him again?
 Maybe. Said I d call him, he answered.  Did you have fun with the matching Barbie
dolls?
Matching Barbie dolls? Oh, he meant the two girls I was with when he said goodbye.
 Do you need to ask? I asked rhetorically, not at all sure why I alluded to the fact I did anything
with either of those girls. Because I didn t. I bought them a drink, then went home by myself not
long after Will had left.
I don t know why I d just said that.
I also don t know why I wanted to lie to him. I d never lied to Will before.
I also don t know why the idea of Will fucking some random guy suddenly bothered me.
Then I remembered that I wanted him to be happy. This is exactly what I d wanted to
happen. So why did it sit in my stomach like lead?
 Anyway, I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.  You should call him. See where it goes.
 Hmm, he hummed.  Maybe I will.
And he did. When we were at lunch at the diner, he pulled out his phone across from me
and called Grant.
Grant.
They made a date for Saturday night. Another date. That would be date number two. As
in a second date.
They went to the movies, apparently. Had dinner and drinks, and from what I could tell,
Grant stayed until Sunday afternoon.
Will didn t give me any details. Just said he had fun, they got on okay, had stuff in
common. He didn t elaborate, and quite frankly, I didn t want to know.
Me, on the other hand, had the pleasure of having my mother over for dinner on Saturday
night.
Let me just explain something about my mother. Picture bottle-blonde hair, trademark
dark red lipstick, a wine glass in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She d married and divorced
six times, was currently not-married, and although she d never worked a day in her life, she lived
quite comfortably off the rewards of her six marriages.
She held no regard for the sanctity of marriage; it was merely a means for profit.
Okay, so that might be a little harsh. But it was kind of true.
I know I ve dubbed her Satan, which is also kind of true.
I loved my mother. I truly did. If anyone else called her Satan, I d probably be pissed. As
her son, I could call her Satan, but no one else could.
She was a fierce woman with not an ounce of maternal instinct, and I can safely say I
spent my teenage years looking after her when she was between husbands, not the other way
around. And when she was happily married, I basically looked after myself.
I guess that made me independent and self-sufficient.
It also made me realize I didn t need to chase love or have a significant other in my life to
make me happy.
It certainly didn t work for my mother.
I knew it worked for other people, like Carter and Isaac, but it wasn t for me. I was fine
on my own. Perfectly happy and well adjusted though some would argue that but I was
comfortable with who I was.
So while Will was off having his lovey-dovey date with Grant, I was being tortured by
my mother.
I d spent the afternoon with not much else to do, so I cooked Mom s favorite dinner and
stared at the television until she arrived.
I opened the door to the familiar waft of cigarette and perfume, and with a kiss on my
cheek, my beloved mother walked in. She walked into the kitchen, pulled two bottles of wine
from her bag, put one in the fridge and opened the other. Without a word, she took three glasses
out of the cupboards, poured the wine, handed me one glass, and sipped her own.  Will? Want a
wine? she called out.
 He s not here.
It was only then that Mom looked around my apartment.  Where is he?
 He s on a date.
My mother s mouth fell open and she looked like I d just told her he d died.  With
who?
 Some guy named Grant, I answered.  I kind of got them together at the club the other
night, and they hit it off.
 What about you?
 What about me?
 Why aren t you there?
 Will doesn t need a babysitter.
 No, he needs you.
 He ll be fine, Mom.
She shook her head.  Why aren t you on a date?
I rolled my eyes.  Because I had to cook dinner for you!
 Don t make it sound like I m a chore, sweetie.
 You re hardly a chore, I lied.
 You re a terrible liar.
 Thanks. At least I tried.
Mom smiled.  You re such a sweetie.
I tapped my wine glass to hers and took a sip.  Learned everything I know from you. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]