I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans as I ran down the stairs to get her. When I opened the door and saw her for the first time in months, a grin spread across my face and my eyes filled with joy.
"There's my pretty girl!" She greeted me with a grin just as big, her arms outstretched to embrace me. She hugged me long and tight. It felt good to be in my mom’s arms. I almost felt like a little girl again. I was a spitting image of my mom, just a younger version. I got my blonde hair and clear blue eyes from her, as well as my smile. My mom looked really good. She worked out and was really fit, so if she wanted to, she could probably beat Marquise up. She held me at arm’s length to get a good look at me, and then she noticed my promise ring. She pulled it up close to her face, staring at it.
"This is real!" She exclaimed. I blushed and smiled sheepishly.
"Yea," I said simply. She turned her intense stare on me.
"Who gave you this?" She asked me.
"My boyfriend," I answered. Her eyes widened and her brows rose.
"Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend and you didn't tell me? A boyfriend who can afford diamond rings at that! We have a lot of catchi
ng up to do! Where's your apartment?" She asked looking around.
"On the second floor," I told her as I led her upstairs. My stomach was doing flips as we approached my door. When I opened it, we were immediately confronted by the delicious aroma of dinner.
"Mmmm, it smells good in here," my mom said sounding pleasantly surprised as we walked in and I closed the door behind us. "Did you cook?" She asked me. Before I could answer, Marquise came walking out of the kitchen, removing an oven mitten from his hand.
"No, I did. I'm Marquise," he said with a smile as he held out his hand to my mom. My mom looked caught off guard as she stared at Marquise and shook his hand.
"Hello Marquise, I'm Monica, Dahlia's mom," she said politely. I had a smile plastered to my face as I watched helplessly from the side. "So, what did you cook?" She asked.
"Come find out, dinner is ready and will be served in the kitchen," Marquise announced as he turned around and walked back into the kitchen. My eyes were on my mother but she paid me no mind as she stood up and followed Marquise into the kitchen with me following her. My mom sat down at the table but I hesitated.
"I'll set the table," I said.
"No no no. Sit. This is my jurisdiction," Marquise said. I sat down beside my mom. I couldn't read her. I had no idea what she was thinking and that scared me. Marquise set the table and placed the food in the center. There was a carved turkey, baked macaroni and cheese, broccoli, and mashed potatoes. "Dig in!" Marquise declared. My mom began helping herself, then I made my plate and finally Marquise fixed himself a plate of food. For some reason, Marquise and I were waiting for my mom to eat before we started eating. She stabbed a piece of turkey, brought it to her lips, opened her mouth and closed it around the fork. She removed the fork and we watched her chew.
When she finished chewing, she swallowed and finally spoke.
"This is delicious!" She said. "I'm impressed! How did you make the turkey? I've never tasted a turkey this juicy!" Marquise looked pleased with himself.
"Thank you, thank you! I cooked it in a crock pot for twelve hours," he told her. At this, my mom looked genuinely impressed.
"And what was the occasion?" She asked.
"Your arrival of course!" He exclaimed. My mom laughed. I was grinning from ear to ear. We were off to a great start. Marquise's dinner was a success. But if I knew my mother, and I did, this was just the beginning. My mom was not easily distracted or impressed and I was sure there would be an interrogation. My mom took another bite of her food. Then washed it down with a glass of white wine.
"So, Marquise, what is your relationship to my daughter?" She asked. And it began.
"I'm her boyfriend," he answered. My mom watched him over her wine glass as she took another sip,
"You're a little old to be a BOYfriend, don't you think? And how old are you?" She asked. My face went hot as I blushed. My mom didn't hold any punches.
"I'm thirty-five," he answered. My moms eyes widened.
"Thirty-five. So, you're thirteen years older than my daughter. And what are your intentions?" She asked.
"I intend to marry her."
"Did you give her this ring?" She asked motioning at my hand.
"Yes."
"So why not an engagement ring instead if you intend to marry her?" She asked. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, I kept looking back and forth from Marquise to my mother.
"I didn't want to propose to your daughter before meeting you. Especially since I am sure that she would like you to be there for such an important moment," Marquise answered. I felt like he was handling himself quite well in front of my mother.