"I was talking to Beau because he was talking to me," I told him, chin raising slightly. "All you did was stand there," I told him, stomach rolling. I avoided confrontation like the plague. Maybe it was the talk with Fee that had bolstered up my confidence. Because if he wanted to talk about that last day, I had some things to say. Namely, how cold and detached he had been, how he'd seemed annoyed and angry and had been a jerk to poor Beau who was just trying to make up for our situation.
"You're mad at me," he concluded, sounding a mix of confused and surprised.
"I'm sick," I insisted, deciding I didn't want to get into it. I could feel the confidence Fee had instilled slipping with each passing second. "I will be back to work when I'm well. I'm not avoiding you. And I'm not mad at you."
Clear and concise communication. My therapist would be proud.
"Did you talk to Fee?"
"Yes. She brought me soup," I told him, waving toward the bowl on the counter.
"Don't eat that," he warned, eyes going wide. "Unless you want to get sicker."
"She assured me that she didn't make it herself."
"Oh, okay. Do you... need anything?"
"You know, I've been asked that more in the past two days than I think I ever have in my life."
"It's nice to have people around who want to take care of you. You should—"
"Honey, I brought you some—oh," my mom said, coming to a stop. "Hello," she said, giving Rush a warm smile as her eyes did an appreciative once-over of him. "I'm Lilly, Kate's mom."
"Rush," he said, offering her his hand. "We work together," he added.
My mom knew all about my work, got laughs out of the antics I often told her about, the way Martha would call men 'dirty little pig boys' while she knitted sweaters for her grandchildren.
She even knew that there was one male worker in the office. I had left out the fact that he was stupidly good looking and that I had been calling his line for a while now. That wasn't exactly information you wanted your mother to know about you.
"Kate has mentioned there is one man there. I guess I always figured you were older like some of the ladies that work there. You'd think she would have mentioned that you were young and handsome..."
"Mom!" I hissed, feeling the heat rise up my neck.
"What? I'm old, not dead, sweetheart."
"You'd think she would mention something so important, wouldn't you?" Rush teased, smiling at my mother.
"I've always wondered about women who call into a phone sex line," she admitted, motioning toward the table, inviting him to stay in my apartment. "What are they like? Older? Younger? Married? Not?"
"It's hard to tell age unless they share that with me. You know, I think, it is mostly different than it is for the men. It isn't so much about the sex. It's about the connection. Hell, the majority of my callers end up talking about their days or what they are stressed about. They want someone to listen."
"I get that," my mom agreed. "I've tried dating a handful of times since Kate's father, but I'd swear these men never heard a word I said."
Of course my mother had dated. I didn't imagine she'd been a monk. But she never really mentioned it around me. I always figured it would be awkward for her to talk to her daughter about it. But then there she was, talking to Rush.
Maybe the problem wasn't her, but me. Maybe I needed to specifically ask, tell her that we could talk about that kind of thing. Because I didn't date often, I guess it was just never something that was on my mind, so I never stopped to think it might be on hers.
"This is the part where I am supposed to truly humiliate my daughter by asking if you have an attractive, available father. See," she said, beaming at me when I felt myself blush.
"I'm afraid I don't anyway," Rush said, shrugging.
"Did you grow up in the area?"
"No, actually. My family and I traveled a lot. But my sister Scotti met someone when we were staying around here, married, settled down. My brothers and I decided to stay as well, put down some roots. My brother King has a private security place in town. Two of my brothers work there part-time. Nixon has been working at a whiskey company lately."
"No interest in private security?" my mother asked, and I could practically hear her thoughts: it seems a more likely job for someone than a phone sex operator.
"It took a while to get it going. In the interim, I needed work. Fiona, our boss, who is an in-law to my sister, had the idea of me working for her. So I fell into that. And by the time Kingston got things running, I was already settled. I do pitch in here and there, though. I like the work. I guess I am just comfortable where I am now."