“Hi, Mama. Daddy.” I pull out my chair and sit down, and Charlie takes his rightful place at my feet.
Daddy gives me a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and grunts, going right back to perusing the menu he has held in front of his face like it’s Captain America’s shield. He’s been to enough of these “family” dinners. He knows how it’s going to go down, and he is not excited about it. That makes two of us, buddy. I wish I could check out like he has since I was sixteen years old.
Charlie senses my tension. He lays over my feet and keeps glancing up at me.
“I assume you have a good reason for being late to our dinner?” says Mama, not even waiting for my butt to warm in the seat before she begins her berating.
“Yep. I sure do.” I lift my menu and begin reading. Goodness, I hope they are paying for dinner tonight; otherwise, I’ll have to ask for a nice crisp water and a side of free cherries from the bar.
“Do you care to explain what that reason might be?” She’s blinking at me so rapidly I consider suggesting some eye drops.
Setting down my menu, I say, “Honestly, Mama, I don’t think any reason I give you will be good enough in your eyes for my disgraceful tardiness. So, let’s just pretend that I had to save a child from a burning building and leave it at that.”
That does NOT make Melony happy. Her bright-pink lips are pressing into a line. “Must you always act as if I’m the devil? Is it really so horrible of me to wish for my daughter to be punctual to an event one of these days?” Got it. We’ve started the manipulative portion of the evening. That was quick.
I look to my daddy, waiting to see if he’s going to perform a miracle and intervene. His menu seems to have only become more engrossing. Stephen King has nothing on this restaurant’s list of dinner options.
I sigh, mentally deciding to just say what needs to be said to get through this dinner as fast as possible. “I’m sorry I was late. I was across town training a little girl and the new service dog we just matched her with today. Training went a little later than I had anticipated, and I had to return the dog to her volunteers for the night.”
This is the part where a mother should say, “Oh, I’m so proud of you and the amazing work you do, darlin’!”
Not my mama. She looks bored to tears. “You wouldn’t have to be doing all this silly work if you would just take Tyler up on his offer.”
Silly work? I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from crying at the table. “I can’t believe we are still having this conversation. I’m not going to marry Tyler, Mama. You’ll just have to find some other way to secure the family business, because I don’t care to sacrifice my happiness for it.”
“Again. So dramatic. Tyler would make you plenty happy.”
“How? By parading me around on his arm at cocktail party after cocktail party for the rest of my life?”
She’s giving me a look that says she sees no issues with that scenario. Of course she doesn’t. We couldn’t be less alike if I were an alien freshly beamed down from space.
“Your daddy parades me around on his arm, and I happen to love it.”
“Well, I’m glad for you, Mama. But I’m not the same woman as you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you are. You’re a Jones just like the rest of us. Sooner or later, you’ll get bored with this feminism kick you’re on and come to your senses. I just hope that Tyler still wants you when you finally wise up.”
I want to scream. I want to stand up and scream. Maybe then she would finally hear my voice over the crazy ones talking in her head. “This is not a kick, Mama. This is my life, and you need to get used to it. I don’t want your money. Or Tyler’s money. And I sure as heck don't want to spend the rest of my life having to turn a blind eye when he grabs a cocktail waitress’ rear end.”
“Evelyn Grace, what a terrible thing to say about a man. Now, stop talking about Tyler like that before he overhears you.”
I frown. “What do you mean ‘before he hears me’?”
I look around, afraid that I’ll find Tyler standing right behind me. Not because I’m afraid of him overhearing me say I think he would be a no-good, cheating husband (I’ll say that to his face), but because I don’t want to have to spend any amount of time with him. Ever.
“Quit craning your neck like that. It makes you look like a giraffe hunting for leaves. Tyler is running late too, but you want to look your best when he arrives.”
“What?! You invited him tonight?!”
“Shhh. Lower your voice, young lady. We thought it would be a nice reunion for you two since you won’t spend any time with him. I can’t believe you haven’t even seen him since he moved back to town. Really, Evie, we raised you to have better manners than that.”
I am so angry I feel like my head might pop off my body. I push my chair back and shoot to my feet. Charlie does the same. He gives me the look that says, “Let’s do this, girl. I’ve got your back.”
He was at my feet during my weekly hour with my therapist; he knows I have her approval to leave when Mama starts putting me down. “I cannot believe you went behind my back and invited him here. Actually, no. I can believe it.” I shake my head. “I’m leaving. And until you can start learning to respect my wishes concerning me and Tyler, our family get-togethers are over.”
This is the scene in every movie where my mama realizes the errors of her ways. Her mouth should fall open, and she should reach out to grab my hand to keep me at the table. She should apologize and tell me all she wants is for us to have a good relationship.
Nope. Maybe when hell freezes over.