11 Undeniable Chemistry
Undeniable Chemistry
“What’s Ross’s mom like?” I asked Will quietly as we got out of the car.
Naya, Sue, and Ross were straggling a few feet in front of us, arguing about who knows what. Well, actually Naya and Ross were the ones arguing. Sue was just moaning and groaning about how she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was.
I was nervous. Stupidly nervous.
“Relax,” Will said, “she’s nice. I’ve never seen her be rude to anyone. I’m sure she’ll love you.”
There’s always a first . Yeah, thanks for that, brain.
But his words must have cheered me up somewhat, because I realized I was smiling, and not because I was trying.
“It’s not like I care, anyway,” I said.
“Jenna, of course you care. She’s your friend’s mom.” The way he emphasized that word friend reminded me that he knew Ross was something more than that.
Naya turned back to us and shouted, “Are you guys coming or what?”
We hurried over. She opened the door for us, and I noticed again how strangely informal she looked.
I, who usually threw on whatever, had spent half the day digging through my closet.
She, to everyone’s surprise, had gotten dressed in no time.
Of course, she still looked way better than I did.
She just had a gift. She could throw on a potato sack and make it elegant. I was the total opposite.
“How long is this going to last?” Sue asked.
As he hurried past us, Ross said, “It lasts as long as it lasts.”
The first thing I saw as I followed him in was two men in suits greeting everyone who entered.
I imagined they were assistants or something because Ross just walked past them with a nod.
The main gallery was a big white room with four columns.
Paintings covered the walls. Some were colorful, some were black and white, some were portraits, some were just strange shapes.
People milled about there or walked into the two side galleries with glasses of champagne in their hands, while waiters and waitresses walked around with trays offering appetizers to the guests.
When I found the food table, I had the urge to lick my lips, and probably would have if I wasn’t worried about having to touch up my makeup.
“You hungry?” Ross asked.
“I’m not going to smear my lipstick that fast,” I told him.
A man came over to talk to him about his mother, and I gestured that I was going to go join our friends on the other end of the gallery.
I didn’t make it over there, though. He grabbed my arm and stopped me.
The poor thing didn’t want me to leave him alone.
Since I had nothing to say, I stood there and smiled politely while Ross talked and talked, as charming as always.
The man eventually left, and I asked who he was.
“No idea,” Ross said. As I laughed and shook my head, he said, “Shit, come on,” dragging me toward the next room over. “Those are friends of my mom’s. They’re the most boring people I’ve ever met, and I don’t want them to see me.”
His strategy didn’t work. No sooner had we set foot in the neighboring gallery than a couple blocked our path.
I could tell the conversation would be a long one, and much as I liked him, I wasn’t up for it, so I abandoned him in favor of the appetizer table.
I needed to calm my nerves, and food seemed like a good distraction.
Once I’d munched on something and gotten a drink, I decided to take a look at the artworks.
Ross hadn’t spoken of them flatteringly, but I thought they were nice.
Some were better than others, of course, but that was to be expected.
There was one that consisted of four canvases showing a blue car: in one it drove forward, in two it moved back, in the last one it had nearly disappeared.
It didn’t take long for me to get bored and look for Ross.
He was in the entryway and seemed to be looking for me, too.
We nearly met, but he was intercepted once more, so I decided to browse the last of the galleries.
The work featured there was a little sadder, a little more maudlin, with faded colors.
I really liked a few pieces, especially one of a girl with her back turned, looking out from a balcony.
Everything was black and white except her bright yellow dress.
I stared at it for a long time before returning to the entrance, determined to rescue Ross.
It was hard not to laugh when I saw how he was struggling to maintain his usual polite exterior with what looked like some of the dullest people on earth. I took a drink.
He shouted, “Babe!” Then he took my hand and gave me a quick kiss. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I’d have met you at the door.”
What was he talking about. I mumbled, “I, uh…”
“Sorry, you guys will have to excuse me,” he told the people he’d been talking with. “This is my fiancée and we haven’t seen each other in forever. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
Once we’d walked off, Ross beathed a sigh of relief. “Jesus,” he said, “I thought that would never end.”
“Fiancée?” I asked. “Is that really the best thing you could come up with?”
“It is,” he replied. “And I don’t mind saying it worked like a charm. Our chemistry is undeniable.” I was about to tell him not to get a big head, but he went on. “Is there anything worse than running into friends of your parents you haven’t seen in ages?”
“Do you come to these things a lot?” I asked.
“I try. I’m a good kid. When I don’t have anything better to do. I’d probably be a good fiancé, too. Maybe you should consider it.”
“Ross, shut up.”
We were passing by the snack table again, and I grabbed a canapé and stuffed it into my mouth.
“Where’s Mike?” I asked him.
“He could be in Guantánamo for all I care. You’ll be surprised to know he’s not exactly reliable. He generally limits his appearances to showing up when I don’t want him around. Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Sure,” I said nervously.
“Is something up with you today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Jen, we’ve been over this a thousand times. You’re not a good liar.”
“I’m not lying!” I said.
“Let me guess. You’re anxious about meeting my mom.”
“I am not!” I shouted.
“Cool. She’s right over there. Let me introduce you to her.”
“Right now?” I blinked as I tried to get ahold of myself and swallowed my drink in one sip. He was grinning slyly. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Are you sure we won’t be bothering her?”
“She’s my mom. We’re not going to be bothering her, and it’s better to catch her early while she’s still in a good mood. She’ll love you. I’ve told her all about you.”
I hesitated, put my drink down, and grabbed another one to help me through it. He squeezed the back of my neck as I asked him, “What exactly did you say?”
“That’s for me and her to know,” he answered. “Anyway, she already likes you. That’s what matters.”
I nodded and prepared for battle.
“She is a little weird, though,” he warned me. “Hippie-ish. Easily distracted. You’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”
Before I could respond, I saw her hurry over, and her hands with their blue-lacquered nails wrapped around his shoulders. She was middle-aged, with long, dark hair and bright eyes that seemed to scan me from head to toe. I stiffened, unable to help myself.
“Hey, Mom,” Ross said.
She certainly made an impression. She was wearing flowing gray slacks and a silk blouse, and she had a tattoo of a vine that wove down to her pinky finger. I’d expected someone more formal. But she didn’t really look like a hippie, either. She was… I don’t know. She was just herself.
“Hello, Jackie dear,” she said in a slow, melodious voice. She had a distracted air about her, but she was obviously a woman attuned to her surroundings. I could see why Ross’s attitude toward her was complicated.
“Mom, this is Jenna. The girl I told you about.”
“Yes, I saw you both when you came in.” She smiled at me and asked, “How are you, dear?” She came in for one of those strange hugs where your bodies don’t touch. It caught me off guard, but I think I reacted as naturally as I could under the circumstances.
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Ross.”
“Mary,” she corrected me. “Mrs. Ross is my mother-in-law’s name. I don’t like to be all stuffy. And speaking of your grandmother, Ross, I haven’t seen her in some time. We need to all have dinner together soon.”
Before Ross could say anything, his mother had put an arm around my shoulder and was walking me further into the gallery. I caught sight of his face briefly. He gave me a look as if to say, This is just how Mom is .
“So, Jenna,” Mary asked, “what do you think of the exhibition? Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s great,” I said.
“I won’t be mad if you say otherwise. My son doesn’t like it, and I haven’t written him out of my will. Not yet, anyway.”
“Mom,” Ross said, catching up to us, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I just said it doesn’t speak to me. Anyway, if you need someone to suck up to you, there are plenty of people here besides Jen who can do it.”
“Hush up, Son. This is a girls’ conversation. And you know art isn’t a beauty contest. You have to try to understand it, not just say this piece is pretty and that one’s ugly.”
As Ross rolled his eyes, I mentioned that I had painted a little in high school.
“Oh, really?” Mary responded. “Ross didn’t say anything about that.”
“I didn’t know you needed a full bio of all my roommates before you met them, Mom,” Ross interjected.
“Not all of them,” she replied. “Just the ones you’re kissing in front of all my friends and colleagues.”