“Hold your horses, partner. I’ll have a create-your-own salad and a large fries, mayo dip on the side, and whatever he’s having.”
“Hey now, what’s that all about?”
“Lunch is on me. There’s equality now, in case you didn’t know. Women can do whatever men can do, sometimes even better.”
A line was building behind us, so I asked for a grilled chicken club and a cup of soup, watched Claire hand over her credit card, and finally, pulled her close to my hip while she waited her turn for her salad.
“That was hot, your wholewomen can do everything men can dothing,” I whispered for her ears only.
“Was it now?”
“Pretty much.”
Her number was called, and she assembled her salad, instructing the coed in a tux shirt which toppings she wanted and how to chop it—medium—and what dressing she wanted—vinaigrette.
Seated in a back booth, I slid in next to Claire rather than across.
“This is cozy. Did I mention you smell great?”
“Good thing I didn’t order onions.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
A server brought the fries and sandwich, locating our table by the number, before stealing away.
I plopped a fry in the mayo concoction and held it up in front of Claire’s mouth. “Ladies first.”
“Mmmm.” Her mouth made love to the fry, and I wished it was something else entirely.
Quickly, I decided next time I’d bring lunch to her office.
“So, did you go to the registrar?”
It was like a bucket of water had been dumped on top of my head.
“I did. Apparently, Bruce was right. My mom was, in fact, reckless and a well-known troublemaker. Never finished school and was tossed out for one too many organized protests.”
“Wow. Your dad never mentioned any of this?”
“Nope. He made my mom out to be this God-fearing woman. From what I remember, she was sweet-tempered. Almost too even, if I think hard about it.”
“Sounds like you need to have a chat with your dad.”
I nodded. “I hate bringing it up to him. He takes it hard. Too hard.”
“I don’t want to say this, and probably will regret doing so, but maybe you should just let your mom be? She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied. I should have been angry at her suggestion, but Claire knew better than anyone how it felt to not get answers. She might have been right. Perhaps I should let it all go, but I couldn’t yet.
I changed the subject to something better. “It’s Wednesday. What are you doing this weekend? I want to go explore or do something.”
She finished chewing and looked up at me. “Is this normal, to be discussing a weekend together? Already?”
“I’m no expert…you tell me.” My fingers mixed with hers, and I scooched my ass closer to her.
“It certainly feels right,” she said, “but maybe I’m wrong. Forgive me for saying this, but in the past, when things felt too good, they usually were.”
With my hand now on top of hers on the table, food spread out in front of us, chatter everywhere, I didn’t whisper. “You got to drop that feeling. It’s okay to believe in happiness, all that shit.” My lips ghosted along her cheek, making their way toward her ear. “And I see a lot of happiness with you and me this weekend…and next.”
