“Our mother? The same person who shamed you for coming out? Now she’s our mother?” I scoff, “She must have cut one hell of a check for your MBA.”
“You know I find it interesting that you show up here, begging for forgiveness, but are only interested if it’s you that’s being forgiven.”
A guy dressed like Billy Idol laughs at this. I shoot him a look and he retreats to another part of the patio. She takes a final drag of her cigarette, waving the blue vapors out of the air. “You love this shit Lily, you always have. Just couldn’t avoid watching this accident, could you?”
“I thought you’d be used to handling accidents by now,” she retorts. Her face contorts, immediately realizing her poor choice of words, “That was uncalled for, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.”
“Look, I’ll concede that maybe this isn’t the best time for you. But she showed up when you needed someone, so you kinda owe her one.”
I think about Dr. Felt and her directives on giving my mother love, no matter the situation. I think I need an agent because I keep making terrible deals. First, I agree to willingly be my mother’s whipping boy, and now I’m financing apartments in exchange for dating beautiful baristas. Granted, the latter deal—as of a couple of hours ago—seems to have great rewards on the horizon.
“Keep the talk away from my family, Melody doesn’t know about that.”
Lily lets out a howl. “Are you serious? Still? No wonder you’re so nervous. This just gets better and better.”
“Lily.”
“Alright, I’ll do what I can. But, if she starts drinking tequila, it’s outta my hands.”
The drinks arrive at our table, and outside of my mother, nobody makes a move—let alone any earnest attempt at conversation. My mother sits at the head of the table, Lily is opposite Melody, who’s next to me. John, sensing the Titanic was doomed, jumped in the life boat and left us to sink. We sit in silence, unsure of the next move. Like friends standing at the edge of a lake, each scared of being the first to dive in. Melody, naive to dangers of engaging my mother in conversation while she’s drunk, takes the first plunge.
“Helen, what brings you to the city?”
And we’re off.
“Well, I’m going through a season of change in my own life right now, as is my son.”
I shoot Lily a look, indicating that it’s getting a little to close to home, and she lurches up like a guard dog, ready to jump in.
“So I decided … hey, I love the city and I could use an escape. So, I jumped on a flight.”. She takes a generous swig of her wine. “For a fifteen dollar glass of wine, this ain’t doing it for me.” She begins looking for the closest waiter, and when one fails to appear, she ups the awkwardness. “So, is this thing between you two casual or …?”
Melody smiles at this, “We’re still getting to know each other, but it’s been … awesome.” She’s dragging her fingertips up my thigh under the table. I want to stop her because we’re trying to get outta this unscathed, and I need all my senses to do so. However, I’m also a male that hasn’t had intimacy, let alone sex, in a long time ,and all I can think about are her thighs, soft as dinner rolls. I get the sense that, because of her family history, she’s used to being in this kind of situation.
“Have you guys … you know,” my mother looks around—as if she’s about to give away a big secret—then mimics intercourse, sliding her index finger furiously in and out of the circle of her index finger and thumbs of her other hand.
The rest of us take healthy swigs of our drinks, realizing we’re not drinking fast enough to keep up with the insanity. Melody looks at me, and winks. “Not yet,” she replies. “But I think it’s in the cards.”
Me and, by extension, my penis are unsure how we should react to this. On one hand, we both should be happy to know that our long nightmare has a confirmed end date. On the other hand, we both sink solemnly knowing my mother is now privy to this information. Melody’s hands have graduated to my balls, and my penis decides to abandon me for the charms of her palm.
Traitorous motherfucker.
“Where did you guys meet?”
“He came into my coffee shop, I gave him my number, and he asked if he could get to know me better.”
“I bet he did,” mother replies, winking at me.
Dr. Felt said not to trade barbs and to give love, and in this case, love is me holding my tongue.
A waitress appears and a second round of drinks is ordered, giving us all a well deserved break. The three expected patrons sticking to beer, my mother switching to Don Julio. If these chair had seat belts, we’d all start buckling up. Once the waitress leaves, Lily decides it’s her turn to take the plunge.
“So, Mom, how’s Robert doing?” she asks.
I cant’ believe that’s the best she could come up with. You would think after all the years of cheating, she’d be more adept at navigating awkward situations.
It feels like we’re in one of those video game boss fights; the three of us battling against a giant sloth, spelling each other once our health has depleted. If we fail, it’ll be a long night figuring out exactly who is to blame. If I were a gambling man, I’d take Lily at +250.
“I told him it’s over and to be gone when I get back,” she croaks, like it wasn’t a forgone conclusion to Lily and myself.
“And when might that be?” I say, having found a logical entrance into the battle. It’s the two of us, thick as thieves again—just like in high school.
“That’s rude, Miles. Are you ok?” she asks, naturally causing everyone at the table to focus on me. “You’re falling asleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Melody says, like she isn’t doing the Devil’s work under the table.
“I’m good, I swear. Everyone just keep on doing exactly what you’re doing,” I say, specifically speaking to Melody. She obliges.
When dealing with a narcissist, an alcoholic one at that, it works best for everyone to keep that person as the focus. By boxing them in, you prevent toxicity from spreading to everyone else. But it requires everyone to do their part, like working on a Ford assembly line in the ‘60s. If one person leaves their post, the whole operation goes to hell and somebody gets hurt.
Our drinks arrive, and while my mother is complaining about something moot, I turn to Melody deciding to give her part of the truth.
“Anything that might fly out of her mouth, I need you to know there’s an explanation for it,” I say. She gives me a quizzical look, but nods in affirmation. If there was a chapel and a minister in this room, I’d marry her on the spot. Ok, probably not, but she’s definitely winning major points with me. She’s matching wits with my mother, and I think that’s turning me on more than her work under the table. Jury is still out on that one.
“So, how long are you staying Miles?” my mother asks.
Melody brings her hand from under the table. She’s got more to lose in this question, because her connection with me is more tenuous. We’d been living in a fairy tale together, but the question was a reminder that the train back to the real world would be boarding soon, and we haven’t bought our tickets yet. Lily could see my mind working through this realization and jumps in for the save.