I am immediately irritated for Blake, who clams up, no grumpy face in sight. When I feel their huff of annoyance against my side, not loud enough to hear, it takes extra effort not to answer with my usual surly “drug dealer.” My default response always gives me a good read on someone based on how they react. But from the grow room setup in their basement, Linda wouldn’t even blink. “I am the retail manager at a dispensary.”
“And ze’s a contractor for the state in breeding experimental medical strains,” Blake adds. I nod, still weirded out that I’m technically a government contractoranda manager. Even though my days are spent helping people get high and making cannabis plants fuck, this is the least punk job I’ve had since I’ve been on my own. I have fucking health insurance. And PTO.
“As a person of color in the cannabis industry,” Linda starts, and I cringe internally. Oh god, where is she going with this? Linda purses her lips, green eyes narrowing. “What are your thoughts on gentrification of a previously criminalized industry?”
I take Blake’s hand under the table to keep myself from laughing, because Linda’s expression is exactly like Blake’s surly face. Luckily, Blake laces their fingers through mine, giving me a tight squeeze, as if I’m reaching for their support instead of a reminder to not laugh at their mother. “It’s bad?”
Instead of the amusement I was hoping for, Linda’s eyebrows do most of the talking, a quick raise demanding more. Next to her, Michael pulls a crossword book out of his vest and gets to work. Blake’s face is still eerily impassive, to a degree I haven’t seen since I first met them. Tough crowd.
“And I think the for-profit prison industry should be abolished, and the whole joke of a criminal justice system reformed completely?” I add with a shrug, curious how Linda will take that. I have no idea what Linda is hoping I’ll say; this is not the line of questioning I’d expect from meeting a partner’s parents. But knowing Blake, I should have guessed.
Linda purses her lips, frown lines deepening. But if she’s anything like Blake, that might be a good facial expression?
Thankfully, the hot himbo puppy dog and the secretly bitchy Barbie doll show up before Linda can ask me to elaborate, because I don’t really want to talk about prison abolition before we’ve even ordered drinks. I’d been wondering how we would manage the inevitable hugs when Blake was already struggling getting into the booth, but Matt solves that problem by draping himself over Blake to plant a wet kiss on my cheek. “Eris! You look gorgeous as ever! Love that color on you! How are you? Any new tattoos? I love your makeup!”
My face burns, because good lord, how did Blake ever leave this man behind? He smells fabulously masculine, his shoulders are built like a fucking longhorn steer, and he’s such a damn flirt, with that crooked grin and freckled nose. His face is way too close to be platonic as he rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“Get off of me!” Blake grumbles, trapped beneath Matt’s ribcage next to me.
Matt simply laughs and tucks Blake into a headlock, smooching the crown of their head in greeting. He clambers back out of the booth to let Allie sit next to Blake, who showers them in warm affection, too.
If Matt reminds me of a golden retriever, Allie reminds me of a barn cat: cute and sweet from a distance, but with sharp claws and teeth at the ready. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a high pony, ample chest and curves on display in a light blue tank top. She greets me with a knowing smirk over Blake’s shoulder as she hugs them.
Instead of a hello, I stick my tongue out at her. Just one look, and that weird, instant friendship we jumped feetfirst into over a bottle of champagne at the wedding is back. It feels like we’ve spent every day together for years, instead of a few hours together one day a month ago.
Blake never stood a fucking chance. I barely know these two and—not that I’m particularly inclined to polyamory or open relationships—if Blake ever wanted to have a foursome with their ex and their former crush, I would be down. They’re both good people, and incredibly attractive.
With the new additions to the group, the feeling of being so incredibly trapped builds as the conversation carries on around us. I fight to relax as my fists clench my skirt. On one side, Matt is rapid-firing questions to everyone at the table, and tossing compliments my way like grenades. On the other, Linda is sharing her opinion about any subject Matt bringsup, including the things he’s complimenting me on. It’s almost worse that she agrees with him, because I never know how to take compliments. Allie keeps smirking as if she knows how uncomfortable I am, and Michael is at the end of the table, ignoring us all in favor of his crossword.
Through it all, Blake is still uncannily blank. Their eyes blink sometimes, and their jaw is tight, but other than that, there is no sign of my Bambi. If we were at brunch, this is when I’d say something out of pocket, just to draw them out of their shell and annoy them. But I don’t know what their mom would think of it. Admittedly, our rapport does not look healthy on the surface. Kelsey and Dream think it’s weird how mean Blake and I are to each other, but Stella and Adrienne get that it’s basically foreplay for us.
Instead, I make myself let go of the fabric balled up in my fist to take their hand again, pressing my thumb into their palm. “Uh…should we order?” I ask, gesturing to the sign on the table.
Blake nods solemnly, and scans the QR code. “Mom, you and Dad want a bottle of white?”
“Oh, is this one of those code places?” Linda scoffs. “I knew we were going downhill as a society when people stopped taking cash, but now they can’t even take our orders?”
“I like being able to scroll the menu,” Blake shrugs. “I’m sure if you want a server, we could ask for one.”
Linda waves a hand. “Well, no, I don’t want to be a bother. I just think the farther we get from a bartering economy, the unhappier we will be.”
“It is really weird to tip the drag queens with Venmo instead of bills,” I nod in agreement. “But that’s on me for never carrying cash anymore.”
Blake hisses quietly next to me, just a sharp intake of breath. My stomach sinks. How did I fuck up withthattopic? I thoughttheir parents would be fine with drag, considering their child is trans.
“Drag queens?” Linda’s frown is back. “Now there’s an interesting question! Eris, as a non-binary person, what are your thoughts on—”
“You’re going to drag brunch tomorrow morning, right?” Matt blurts out, his eyes wide as he exchanges a glance with Blake. “Could we come with you? Allie and I?” He smiles sympathetically at Linda. “I don’t know if it’d be your speed.”
Linda laughs mockingly. “Please, I’ve been to more drag shows than years you’ve been alive, young man! Back in the day, I was quite the hag.”
“Mom!” Blake’s face is beet red; they look like they’re about to slide under the table in embarrassment. “You’re not allowed to say that!”
I lose my composure, cracking up despite my best efforts to behave. All of this is so ridiculous. Why the fuck was I expecting their parents to be so proper and polite?
“What?” Linda waves a hand. “See? Eris thinks it’s funny!”
I just laugh harder when Blake glares at me.
