She was fishing. Gideon took the bait.
“My girlfriend.”
“Okay, then.”
He and Hannah had gone on a few dates over the past month. It had thrilled his mom, and he liked the feeling of being normal again, of having a plausible story to tell people. If Hannah wanted to make things official, then so be it. It didn’t matter much to Gideon, not when he couldn’t stop thinking about Mac.
“You got your mom to come to Noah’s wedding and be excited about the baby.” Hannah offered him a sip of her water. He declined, and she slipped it in the seat pocket in front of her. “This weekend is going to be great.”
Gideon remembered the hug his mom gave Christina when she and Noah came over for a post-Thanksgiving dinner. It was stilted, but he could tell she was trying.
“Thanks for bringing me with you,” Hannah said.
“Thanks for coming.” Gideon had pangs of guilt whenever he looked at her, like he was cheating on her. Which he was not.
He held her hand. He couldn’t get through this weekend alone. Which was funny because he’d be with his family, the very people who weren’t supposed to make him feel alone.
“Is there anything else? You just seem off.”
Gideon looked at her and pushed down his memories about Mac, about his now-empty apartment. “Just stressed.”
A sly smile came on her lips. She dragged her hand up his thigh. “Well, maybe tonight we find a way to relieve that stress.”
Her hand had the opposite intended effect. He crossed his legs, knocking it away. “I don’t know. I think I’ll be wiped out. We’ll see.”
“I didn’t peg you for the guy to take things so slow. It’s cute. Very old-fashioned.”
“Isn’t that what girls want?”
“We wantsomethings.”
But it was no use. An erection seemed like a Herculean task.
Hannah put in her ear buds and rested against his shoulder as the train continued its voyage to Westchester.
Φ
“Oh, Jesus,” Gideon’s mom said.
She wasn’t being dramatic. There was Jesus, bloody and suffering, hanging from a cross on the altar. She shook her head at him in a “Can you believe we’re here?” gesture.
“At least we’re not the only Jews in here,” Gideon wrapped his arm around her. “You’re doing great.”
They and Hannah stood in front of the altar while an organ played. Gideon knew this wasn’t what his mom wanted. But she was being a good sport. The lines on her face were fully creased with worry and stress, more than her typical levels.
“You love your son,” Gideon whispered to his mom.
“I do.” They were here for Noah. “I do.”
“Are we sure Jesus was Jewish?” Hannah asked them. “I don’t know any Jewish person with hair that smooth.”
And then Gideon heard a sound he thought he’d never hear today: his mom hysterically laughing. She bent forward and heaved out laughs, giggling so hard her face turned red and tears beaded at her eyes.
“Although I guess if he can walk on water, he probably doesn’t need a hair straightener,” Hannah said.
Gideon looked behind them at the guests finding their seats, probably wondering what the hell those Jews were laughing about in their church. But he didn’t stop his mom. Her laughter was music to his ears.
“Thank you, Hannah.” His mom held Hannah’s hand. “I needed that.”
