Chapter 44 - What About Your Future?
Tori's mother lasted four days.
Four.
Honestly—
better than I expected.
Wednesday night, Tori was at my place.
Dinner.
Takeout.
No culinary experimentation.
Excellent decision.
We were sitting on the couch with our laptops open because apparently both of us had agreed not to work during dinner—
then immediately moved work to after dinner.
Compromise.
Tori was reviewing something when her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Paused.
"Ma."
I looked back at my laptop.
Not my conversation.
She answered.
"Hi, Ma."
Pause.
"Yes."
Longer pause.
"No."
I kept typing.
Tori's fingers stopped moving over the trackpad.
"No, I'm not busy."
Pause.
Her face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just—
closed a little.
I stopped typing too.
Not staring.
Listening enough to know whether she needed me.
"No, Ma."
Pause.
"I heard you."
Pause.
"No."
Another pause.
Then—
"Because I don't want to."
There.
Different tone.
Still calm.
Less patient.
Her mother said something long enough that Tori stood.
Walked toward the kitchen.
Distance.
Privacy.
I looked at my screen.
Didn't read a single word.
Then—
"Ma, I'm not meeting Carlo."
Ah.
Carlo survived.
Unfortunately.
"I don't care if it's just coffee."
Pause.
"No."
Pause.
"Because I have a girlfriend."
Silence.
Then Tori closed her eyes.
"No, that is not the same thing."
There.
I looked away.
Whatever came next—
I already disliked.
Tori leaned one hand against the counter.
"I'm not confused."
Pause.
"No."
Longer.
"I'm not being influenced."
My jaw tightened.
Fuck.
Not—
because Tori said something attractive.
Actual fuck.
Her mother kept talking.
Tori's voice went flatter.
"Lia didn't make me gay."
I stared at my laptop.
Okay.
We had escalated.
"No, Ma."
Pause.
"I dated women before Lia."
Another pause.
"Yes."
Pause.
"I know you knew."
Pause.
"Then why are we pretending this is new?"
Her voice sharpened slightly on the last word.
I wanted to stand.
Didn't.
Not mine unless she asked.
That rule was becoming harder to follow.
Then—
"No."
Pause.
"I am not meeting him."
Pause.
"No."
Tori breathed out.
"Ma, stop."
There.
First real crack.
Not yelling.
But—
stop.
Her mother apparently did not.
Tori's eyes closed again.
Then—
"What exactly do you want me to say?"
Silence.
I could hear the faint cadence from the phone.
Not words.
Just—
a mother talking for a long time.
Tori listened.
Her expression went very still.
Too still.
When she finally answered—
"No."
Her voice was quieter.
"I don't want that."
Pause.
"No."
Another pause.
"I said I don't want that."
Then—
"Because it's my life."
There.
Tori looked toward me.
Not intentionally, I think.
Her eyes found mine anyway.
I waited.
She looked away.
Her mother continued.
Then Tori said—
"I'll call you another time."
Pause.
"No."
Pause.
"Because we're not getting anywhere."
Another pause.
"Goodnight, Ma."
She hung up.
Just—
ended it.
Then stood there.
Phone still in hand.
Silent.
I closed my laptop.
Didn't speak yet.
Tori stared at the kitchen counter.
Then—
"She wants me to meet Carlo."
"I gathered."
"She says coffee isn't cheating."
Interesting argument.
Technically true.
Entirely irrelevant.
"She says I'm making a permanent decision based on something that might be temporary."
I waited.
Tori laughed once.
No humor.
"She said I should think about my future."
There.
I knew where this was going.
Marriage.
Children.
Normalcy.
Grandchildren.
A life her mother could recognize from ten kilometers away.
Tori put her phone down.
"She asked how I'm going to have a family."
I looked at her.
"She knows lesbians can have families, right?"
That got the smallest laugh.
"Apparently biology has become extremely complicated this week."
"Technology really moved fast."
Tori almost smiled.
Then didn't.
She crossed her arms.
"She said she doesn't want me waking up at forty and regretting everything."
There.
I stayed quiet.
Tori continued—
"She said I'm thirty someday whether I like it or not."
"Accurate."
"She said thirty-five."
"Also likely."
"Forty."
"Possible."
Tori looked at me.
"Do not help her."
"Sorry."
She sat down again.
Closer this time.
Not touching.
Her shoulders were tense.
I waited.
Then—
"She asked if I really think you and I are going to last."
There.
That one—
different.
Because the answer was—
I had no fucking idea.
No one did.
I especially didn't.
I had already died twice.
One relationship ending was practically optimistic.
Tori looked at me.
"Don't answer that."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
She caught herself.
I caught it too.
Neither of us commented.
Small mercy.
Then she said—
"That's not even the point."
"No."
"Even if we break up next month, that doesn't make Carlo relevant."
"No."
"Even if we break up tomorrow."
"No."
"Even if I never date another woman after you."
I looked at her.
"Still no Carlo?"
"Especially no Carlo."
I laughed.
She finally smiled.
Barely.
Then the smile disappeared.
"She keeps talking like you are the reason I chose this life."
There.
That hurt her more than the future question.
I could tell.
Not—
what if you're alone?
But—
you wouldn't choose this on your own.
I leaned back.
"What do you want from me?"
Tori looked at me.
Direct question.
Important.
She thought.
"Nothing yet."
"Okay."
"I just want to be annoyed."
"Can support."
"I don't want solutions."
"I have several."
"I know."
"Very strong ones."
"Lia."
"I said I wouldn't."
She sighed.
Then leaned sideways until her head rested against my shoulder.
There.
That was what she wanted.
So I stayed.
Friday, Tori's mother called again.
I wasn't there.
I knew because Tori messaged me afterward.
she sent carlo's photo
I stared at the message.
Then—
handsome?
Pause.
lia
what
this is serious
i know
Then—
but was he
Long pause.
annoyingly yes
I laughed out loud.
tragic
you are terrible
still not meeting him?
absolutely not
Then—
she also sent his resume basically
Oh.
Now we were in my territory.
education?
stop
occupation?
LIA
I laughed.
Then—
sorry. actually sorry.
Pause.
thank you
Then—
i told her to stop sending me men
I looked at that.
what did she say
Longer pause.
that she's just giving me options
Ah.
Options.
That word.
I didn't like it.
Not because options were inherently wrong.
I had recently had them.
Very transparently.
But Tori had said no.
Multiple times.
At that point—
options became pressure.
you told her no
yes
then she should stop
Three dots.
exactly
Then—
she says i'll thank her someday
I stared.
That line had weight.
Because it converted current refusal into future gratitude.
Convenient.
Any boundary could be dismissed if you assumed the other person would eventually agree you were right.
I typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
do you want me to say anything
Immediate.
no
I put the phone down.
Then she sent another.
not yet
There.
Okay.
Not yet.
Sunday became worse.
Not because Tita Elena called.
Because she arrived.
At Tori's condo.
Unannounced.
Tori told me afterward.
I got the story Monday night.
We were eating at a restaurant this time.
Neutral territory.
Tori had barely touched her food.
I noticed.
"You've eaten three bites."
"I know."
"You hate it?"
"No."
"Then?"
She looked at me.
"My mother came over yesterday."
I put my fork down.
"Okay."
"Without telling me."
"Less okay."
"She brought food."
"Mother behavior."
"And a printed photo."
I stared.
"No."
"Yes."
"Carlo?"
"Carlo."
I covered my mouth.
Not laughing.
Mostly.
Tori looked offended.
"This is not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"She printed his photo, Lia."
"Like biodata?"
"Almost."
That broke me.
I laughed.
Tori stared.
Then—
despite herself—
she laughed too.
A little.
Then stopped.
"She also brought his mother's number."
I stopped laughing.
Oh.
"She said Tita Susan wants to talk to me."
"About?"
"About Carlo."
"Why?"
"Because apparently arranged networking is alive and well."
I leaned back.
"Did you call?"
"No."
"Obviously."
"She got upset."
"Your mom?"
"Yes."
"Because you wouldn't call?"
"Because I was being disrespectful."
There.
Escalation.
"She said she wasn't forcing me."
I gave her a look.
Tori gave me the same look back.
"Exactly."
"What does forcing mean in her definition?"
"Probably physical abduction."
"High standard."
"She said she was only asking me to keep an open mind."
"You already did."
"I know."
"And closed it."
"I know."
I took a drink.
Then—
"What happened?"
Tori looked down.
"She asked me what I see with you."
There.
I waited.
"I said I don't know yet."
Reasonable.
New relationship.
Weeks.
Not years.
"She didn't like that."
"Because?"
"She said if I don't know, why am I choosing you over a normal future."
Normal.
There it was.
I went still.
Tori saw.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
"My face is neutral."
"No."
Fair.
I looked away.
"What did you say?"
Tori took a breath.
"I asked what normal means."
Of course.
"She said husband."
Pause.
"Children."
Pause.
"Family."
Her mouth tightened.
"She said grandchildren."
There.
Not subtle anymore.
"She said she wants to see me married properly."
I stared at the table.
Properly.
Interesting word.
Very efficient.
Could do a lot of damage in one word.
Tori continued—
"I asked if marrying a woman would be improper."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
Worse.
"She said that's not what she meant."
"Also worse."
"Yes."
Then—
"She said I know what she means."
Tori looked at me.
"I did."
Of course she did.
No one needed clarification.
I reached across the table.
Stopped before touching her.
She looked at my hand.
Then placed hers into it.
Okay.
"What did you tell her?"