“It’s not such a big deal,” Jessica argued. “It’s old. I can just get a new one when I get home.”
“Nonsense, you’ll take one of mine home.”
My mother was nothing if not generous.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Jessica said, seeming as wholesome as an apple pie.
“Please, I think I have twenty in the garage. Ben’s father is constantly buying new things to replace perfectly good things, and I am constantly saving things that aren’t worn out. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“It’s true.” I smiled, feeling quite settled with my decision to bring a “girlfriend” home with me. My mother was obviously delighted, and it felt good to make her happy for once.
After a beat, my mother asked the exact question Jess said she would. “Tell me, Jess, how did you meet this nefarious son of mine?”
We hadn’t actually decided how to answer the question, but Jess took that in stride.
“Can you really call him nefarious?” Jess asked. “I mean, has the man ever even been late for a cup of coffee?” My mother laughed and Jess continued. “I swear, he wakes up before the alarm.” That was true. How did she know that?
“Okay, okay… maybe not nefarious.”
“Dynamic, yes. Efficacious, certainly. Adept, absolutely,” Jess listed before making a silly face and adding, “Neurotic, potentially.”
I pursed my lips in annoyance, but my mother was laughing again, and when I caught her eye, she winked at me and mouthed, “I like this one.”
Jess, who was in the back seat, had situated herself in the middle so we could all chat, but now she shifted so she was behind me. Draping her arms over my chest, she rested her head on the seat so that her cheek was just above my shoulder closest to my mom.
“Do you really want to know how we met?” she asked my mom.
“Of course I do.”
“We met at his opening at the Christophe Gallery. The Metamorphosis show. I was a cater waiter. And this wonderful goofball of a woman stumbled into me—drowning me in a tray of red wine.”
My mind raced, harkening back to that show, remembering that there was a cater waiter who had a tray of wine spilled on her.
“Your son made sure the mess got cleaned up and gave me his undershirt so I could finish my shift. He was a real gem.”
That part wasn’t true, but if I remember correctly, the woman who had spilled the wine did just that. I turned to my mom, wondering if she was buying Jessica’s story, and found her eyes all glassy.
“You did that?” she asked.
I nodded yes.
My mom focused her eyes on the road and under her breath, she mumbled, “Good boy.” Then, clearing her throat and shaking her head to push off any burgeoning sentimentality, she boomed, “Okay, so tell me, Jess, how strong is your influence? Did you convince this boy of mine to wear a costume to tomorrow’s shindig?”
Jessica unfurled her arms and sat up, indignant, her jaw dropped open in the back seat for a second before she tore off, punched me in the upper arm, and hollered, “You told me your family doesn’t wear costumes.”
Fuck, I hadn’t told her anything of the sort, but I had no choice but to play along.
“Well, that was partially true. One member of my family doesn’t wear a costume.”
“Oh yeah, who is that?” Jess gawked.
“Me,” I said snidely.
I was not wearing a costume. It was not happening, no way, no how.
Jess
“Yes, absolutely stop at the costume shop on the way home,” I teased, staring into Ben’s obviously annoyed gaze. He turned around to give me the stink eye. And I should have listened, but the whole point of hiring me was to make his mom happy. So, in some way I was doing just that—being the woman she wanted for him. I liked Marla immediately. She was warm and welcoming, and I couldn’t imagine how Ben was her son. How did he stray so far from her free-spirited vibe?