My eyes are getting wet.
Will my baby get this kind of relationship with my mom?
Or is there zero chance at all now that we’ll ever be the same?
Goldie slips an arm around me and squeezes. “Everything will be okay,” she whispers.
“We can pre-write obituaries for people who’ve pissed you off,” Evelyn says.
“Done it before,” Odette agrees.
Sheila shakes her head. “I don’t like to manifest that. Manifest that we live a long time, yes. Manifest that others intentionally die…that’s not my cup of tea.”
“We know, hon, and that’s why we love you.” Evelyn smiles at her, then turns the smile to me. “So what can three old ladies who know a little bit about this rugby team do to help you today? We have alotof pull in certain places in the office, if you know what I mean.”
I somehow doubt they have more pull with my dad than I do. “Tell me I’m not making a mistake fighting to date a guy my parents are opposed to?”
It’s remarkable how three women can spring into action while sitting still.
“Your parents don’t like the captain?”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“He’s the nicest man. Do you know he once walked me to my car, holding an umbrella over my head while he was getting soaking wet, when I went to see training all by my lonesome because I was having a day and I needed to see some strong men beating on each other to feel better? And he even gave me a hug and told me I was going to be okay.Andshew. Do you know what that man smells like? Like all the best things and all the best things that are bad for you, if you know what I mean.”
All of us stare at Sheila.
I do, in fact, know what Holt smells like.
Intimately.
And I like it, and I’m suddenly a little unsure what to think of Sheila liking it too.
“What?” she says. “I might be the sweet one, but clearly, I’m not dead yet. Let an old lady have a thrill once in a while. I didn’t make a pass at him. I just enjoyed that there are still polite young men out there in the world.”
Evelyn and Odette both grin at her.
Goldie hides her own smile behind another sip of spritzer.
“What’s your plan, hon?” Odette asks me.
“Wait them out.”
All three of the older women cluck their tongues.
“Bad idea.”
“You wait them out, they’ll wait you out longer.”
“Next thing you know, you haven’t talked to your parents in four years.”
And there go the wet eyeballs again.
I love my mom. I’m so grateful she found a man for herself who—until this weekend—was exactly who I would’ve hoped for her to find. Miranda’s stuck in the middle, and that’s not fair to her, even if she keeps telling me she’s not in the middle, she’s on my side.
And this isn’t how it’s supposed to be with them.
I’m supposed to be mildly frustrated that they want to do too much for me when I want to be more independent, and that’s it.
