I'm not sure if it's because of my hand on his leg or despite it that Cynthia grabs hold of what I just said and continues. “Well, yes, I do and it's ever such a worry, considering the year we've all had. Aiden's had a very hard time.”
“I know.” I squeeze Marty's hand while smiling at her in a way that I hope is both sympathetic and reassuring.
“Jenna knows all about that, and me, and well, everything.” Marty leans towards his mother now. “You already gave her an unnecessary lecture this morning. It doesn't need repeating, or that just makes your apology worthless.”
His words have a bite I haven't heard in Marty's tone before and it startles me, as does his mother's reaction when she shrinks back into her seat.
“Water, anyone?” James calls out, a bottle in his hand ready to pour.
“Thank you.” I nudge my glass forward. Marty and Maeve do the same, but Cynthia doesn't move, except to cross her arms over her body as if she's suddenly cold.
James quickly adopts the role I suspect he's going to play tonight, Chief Conversation Topic Coordinator. “Tell us a bit about yourself, Jenna. Aiden says you're a writer.”
I have an answer prepared for this question. “Yes, a columnist. I've been writing for newspapers and magazines now for around fifteen years. Mostly freelance but I have done some stints as a staff writer before.”
“Jenna writes about sex and relationships,” Marty adds, and I swear his stare is on his mother, gauging her reaction with a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Oh, really?” James' eyebrows are skyward. “That sounds err...interesting.”
I steal a quick glance at Cynthia, who has her hand flat on her chest as if to check her heart is still beating. Her jaw is clenched, again emphasising her resemblance to Marty.
“Do you like, give sex tips and advice?” Maeve asks, her phone discarded, and there's something in her question that tells me she's actually very interested.
I suck in a deep breath and take a few seconds to consider how to respond. I comfort myself with the knowledge that I'll never see these people again. I am notfiltering myself for them. “Yes, I have in the past, but I'm trying to now shift my focus to more research about intimacy, sexuality and relationships. I'm really interested in the psychology of what makes people have fulfilling relationships and satisfying sex lives...or not.”
My eyes are first drawn to Marty's father as he chokes on a mouthful of water. Out of the corner of my eye I then see Cynthia's hands grip the arms of her chair. Finally, I look back at Marty whose smile has narrowed, and I see him swallow, hard.
“Wow,” Maeve mumbles, as she sits back in her chair holding her phone. “You do pick 'em, Marty.”
“Excuse me.” Marty's father continues to cough and starts banging his chest.
“That does sound very interesting,” Cynthia speaks up with a slight wobble in her voice. “Who do you write for?”
I shift my weight in my seat. “Actually, I'm not working right now,” I say. “But I’m hoping to start writing a book soon.”
“You are?” Marty sounds surprised.
“I’ve always wanted to write a book,” I say to Marty. I then turn back to his mother. “I've got some possible angles I want to explore, and I think when I go home I'll be ready to do some research and write a plan.”
“But how can you afford not to work?” Cynthia asks as she picks up her glass of water. “Do you not have a mortgage or rent to pay?”
She looks curious, and not necessarily in a judgmental way. I'm about to answer her but Marty steps in.
“That's a bit of a personal question, Mum. Does it matter?”
“I was only asking-” Cynthia puts her glass back down without drinking from it.
“You don't have to answer that, Jenna,” Marty interrupts, turning to me and for the first time since I met him, I am not fully enamoured with the shape of his smile or the dimples it creates.
“I don't mind. It's a fair question.” I squeeze his leg again but this time it's so I can then slide my hand away from his grip. “I do have a house, yes, but itcurrently doesn't have a mortgage. I was lucky to pay it off early, as I inherited some money when I was younger that helped pay a large deposit.”
“Jenna's mother died when she was fifteen,” Marty butts in and I have no idea why he says it, especially in such a pointed way.
I blink but keep talking. “And I have some decent savings as well as the money I got for his share of the house when my ex and I divorced.” I turn and smile at Marty then, but he's not looking at me. His eyes are suddenly fixed on the cutlery in front of him.
Cynthia is as still as a statue, her mouth slightly open, and I know immediately what word will come out of her mouth next. “Divorced?”
I hold onto my smile. “Yes, we split up about a year ago now,” I say, as heat soars up my neck. I can physically feel how much of a test this is for me to own this part of my story.
