Chapter 5 #2
It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Just because you don't know about it doesn't mean it didn't happen."
"Okay, so when was the last date you went on?"
"Um." I know exactly, so why am I pretending to have to think about it? I'm being ridiculous. "Five years. I went out on a date with Charlie Cousins while you were on that overnight trip to Juneau in eighth grade."
"Mom!" she exclaims.
"What?" I ask, genuinely puzzled as to why she’s yelling.
"Five years?" She exclaims, louder than before. "You haven't even been on a date in five years?"
“Yes, Mal."
"Why not? You're beautiful, you own your own business, and you're cool as hell. How are the men not tripping over themselves to get with you?"
"Cool as hell?"
"For the purposes of this conversation, yes. If you bring it up around my friends, I'll deny ever saying it." She holds a straight face for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I'm kidding. Yes, Mom. You're cool."
"No teenager thinks their parent is cool."
She shrugs. "I'm not most teenagers."
"I guess not." I sigh, thinking carefully about what to say to my daughter.
I dump the leftovers into the container, seal the lid, and stuff it in the fridge, and then lean on the counter opposite Mal as she finishes eating. "Listen, honey. I…there are a lot of reasons why I don't date. No, it's not for lack of interest. Jukebox Jackson, for example."
Mal cackles. "Okay, I like Jukebox as a person, but just no…for a lot of reasons.”
"Exactly." I shake my head, shrug. "I've been asked out a few times. I just …"
She pushes her empty bowl away and turns toward me. "Men are dicks?"
I sigh, nodding. "More or less, yes."
"Coach Austin isn't a dick."
"Mal—"
"Mom. He obviously likes you. You obviously like him. I'm not a child anymore. I'm not gonna get all attached and then be heartbroken if it doesn't work out. Also, you're not your mom."
That last part hits like a freight train. "Wisdom from my seventeen-year-old child," I mutter.
"Why can't you just see what happens? You don't have to hide it from me. If you don't want to talk to me about it, I get it. But talk to someone. Just don't…" She shrugs, searching for what to say. "Don't let a good thing go because you're worried about me or my reaction. I want you to be happy."
My eyes sting. "God, Mal."
She leans into me, hugs me. "I love you, Mom. You've worked your ass off my whole life to take care of me. But now it's time for you to do things for yourself." She kisses my cheek and then whispers in my ear. "Like make out with Coach Austin in our garage."
"I wasn't—" I start, and then stop myself; lying to my child is a bad habit, and one I'm not keen on starting now. "Fine. We may have kissed."
Mal squeals. "And?"
I sigh; it feels weird to share this with my daughter; I love the hell out of her, obviously, but I've always tried to maintain a clear line between mother and friend; this is muddying that boundary. "And what? That's it. We kissed, and he left."
"Did you get his number? Are you gonna see him again? Is he taking you on a real date?"
"Yes, we exchanged numbers. I'm sure I'll see him again at some point, but we didn't make any plans."
"But the kiss, Mom. How was it? You only went out with Charlie Cousins once, right, so you must not have kissed him. Are you shook? You look shook."
I did a bit more than just kiss Charlie Cousins, but I'm not about to tell her that.
She's too damned insightful, however. "Wait. Did you kiss Charlie Cousins?"
Charlie is a few years younger than me, and he's a planning engineer for the city. When we went out, I was forty-three, and he was thirty-seven. He's attractive, in a chinos-and-plaid sort of way…and that way is too much like my ex, which in hindsight is likely why it went nowhere.
Well, partially, at least.
I shrug. "That was a long time ago."
"Mom, c'mon."
“Okay, fine!” I snap. “Yes, I kissed Charlie Cousins.”
She's a dog with a bone, I tell you. "But? You're not saying something, I can feel it in my nuggets."
I frown at her, snorting a laugh. "You can feel it in your nuggets?"
"Surf's Up, Mom. Obvi."
"Oh, the surfing penguins movie you were obsessed with when you were little." I sigh. "There are some things I'm not going to tell you, since we have to have some boundaries as mother and daughter. But…yes, we kissed. And maybe it progressed a little faster than I was ready for and I freaked out."
"Ohhhhh, I see, I see." She sounds so sage and aware.
"Doubtful."
“Then explain."
I think about it, but shake my head. "I dunno, Mal. I feel weird having this kind of conversation with you."
"But you wouldn't feel weird asking me about it if I started dating some guy."
"Are you?" I ask. “Seeing someone?"
She rolls her eyes. "No, Mom, I'm not. After Heath, I decided to take some time away from boys."
Heath, her ex-boyfriend, spread rumors about her around school—false and disgusting rumors—because she shut him down when he pushed her to sleep with him.
Mal had to physically restrain me from slapping the shit out of him at PT conferences.
And just for the record, yes, it's totally coincidental that his boss at the lumber mill found out about what he'd done, fired him, and had him blacklisted from getting a job at every business in town.
He's currently bussing tables at a diner forty-five minutes from Tomlin Falls because no one around here will hire his punk ass.
But I had nothing to do with that. I swear.
I'm just saying, don't fuck with a single mama. Especially not single mamas with a penchant for creative vengeance.
My shitbag of an ex, for example. Someday, he may find out that the super expensive golf clubs he loved so much weren’t stolen or lost while he was packing up to move, as he assumed: I sold them on Craigslist and used the money to get some brake work done on Cherry.
And before you go whining about stealing or whatever, they were a gift from me for our anniversary.
Also, he's a terrible golfer. Just saying.
"Heath," I grumble. "Fucking loser."
She grins, shaking her head and sniffing a soft laugh. "I'm pretty sure he knows it was you who got him blacklisted in town, but he can't prove it."
"I didn't blacklist anyone."
"So the fact that his former boss just happens to be the mayor's brother and co-chair of the town council is just a coincidence?"
"Yup."
"The mayor…who is your best friend?"
"Alaina didn't blacklist anyone either, to my knowledge."
She grins. “You can tell me, Mom. It's okay. I won't be mad."
"I may have vented about what he did to Alex Frey," I say. "But whatever he may or may not have done after that has nothing to do with me."
She snickers. "Got it. And why have you never gone out with Alex? He's fine as hell and super nice."
“Because I've got the wrong plumbing, babe."
Her eyes widen. "What? For real? Alex Frey is gay?"
"Why is that surprising? He's the best-dressed man in Tomlin Falls. He wore a pink short-suit to Gina Hawkmore's wedding."
"I wasn't at that wedding, remember? I went snowboarding instead because you said it would just be a bunch of drunk adults."
I laugh. "And I was right. That was the sloppiest wedding I've ever been to. Gina and Tommy were both falling-down drunk by the end of the night. They missed their flight to their honeymoon, as I recall."
Mal shakes her head, shrugging. "Cool, but I still had no idea that he was gay. This is making me question my gay-dar, which I've always thought was pretty spot-on."
"He's not hiding it, but he's not, like, publicly out, if you know what I mean."
She shakes her head. “Whatever. So, Charlie Cousins."
I hold up my hands. "Mal, enough. What it comes down to is that I wasn't ready for what Charlie wanted. We both moved on. It's not a whole story."
The story, such as it is, is that we started making out in his car, which was fine. He smelled good, his car was clean, he had decent breath, and it was nice. He asked if he could kiss me, which I appreciated. But then, once things started to…err, progress, he went right for the boob: honk-honk.
Yeah…no.
I freaked out. Partly because the way he touched my boob was just weird.
It was a literal honk. Not a caress, not even a squeeze, which would have been tolerable; too soon, but tolerable.
No, this was a honk. Like a clown's nose.
If my boob had had a squeaker in it, it'd have sounded like a dog’s chew toy.
But I also freaked out because I just wasn't ready for that.
Kissing, yes. It's a nice reentry into the world of physicality, which I've been out of since before Mallory was born.
Well before, in fact, since Kevin and I hadn't had regular sex since well before his accident, and me getting pregnant was the accidental result of a liter of Barefoot Chardonnay and rom-com-induced nostalgia.
Which I regretted, juicily, the next morning.
And for the next nine months.
I’d still regret it to this day, if not for the fact that Mal is the best thing about my life—the best thing about me.
Mal is quiet for a moment, then gives me a side-eyed look. "Is it me you don't want to talk about this with, or anyone?"
I tip my head to one side. "Both, to be honest." I reach across the island and cover her hands with mine. "It's not because I don't trust you or value your input and opinion, Mal, do you understand that?"
"Sort of, I guess. Feels a little personal, though."