“Eris has a really twisted sense of humor, Linda,” Allie explains. “I wouldn’t rely on zim finding something funny as a good metric.”
“Bitch!”I mouth at her behind my hand, my shoulders still shaking.
Smug, Allie smirks back at me, a silent,“Takes one to know one.”
“So, yeah, we can come to brunch with you in the morning?” Matt prompts.
“I can ask if we can add to the reservation,” I say, since Blake is in shrimp-mode next to me in the booth, face buried in their phone under the guise of ordering food for everyone. I leantowards Linda, hoping she’ll say no, but asking anyway, to be polite. “Do you want to come?”
“I assume it’ll be loud?” Linda asks, glancing at Michael next to her.
I nod. “Very. And it’s outside, so it’ll be hot, too.”
Waving her hand again in that vague dismissal, Linda shakes her head. “We’ll just meet you for a late lunch then!”
I send a quick text to Dream, who immediately responds that she will bribe the host tomorrow as much as it takes to make room for “Blake’s fool of an ex and the man-stealing best friend,” because she and Kelsey have been dying of curiosity to meet them.
“So…anything you’re looking forward to seeing while you’re here?” I ask Linda, hoping that simple question doesn’t turn into a philosophical debate. The polite question feels flat and fake. From the weird looks Matt and Allie are giving me, it sounded that way too.
The Ryans, Blake included, don’t seem to have noticed. “Anything my baby wants us to see!” Linda beams proudly at Blake, who groans and sinks deeper into the booth. Sometimes I forget Blake is younger than me; it’s validating that they have their immature moments too. “But Michael wanted to go to the natural history museum, so we might do that while you’re having brunch.”
“We could meet you there after?” It feels so weird, being the nice one at the table, instead of the surly jackass judging everyone from the sidelines with a snarky comment from time to time. I don’t like it. But Blake is still looking weird and blank, and everyone else here is technically their guest. This is what partners do, right? Act like a host, or whatever? “We could walk along the lakefront, and there’s a tapas place with a patio overlooking the pier we could go to for lunch.”
“That sounds perfect!” Allie chimes in.
“Perfect, the plan is settled!” Linda nods with a bright hum. “So, Eris, how much career stability and growth potential do you see in the cannabis industry, given that it’s such a young and heavily regulated industry?”
A pang of annoyance burns inside me, and I do my best to swallow it. Linda is definitely a professor, answering every question while she’s asking it.
“Linda, that’s a leading question!” Allie teases. She’s so good at correcting people, while keeping up that sweet facade. Matt looks on, hanging on his wife’s every word with a proud, affectionate smile, and zero thoughts inside that pretty head. “Maybe a better question to ask would be, ‘Where do you see your career going?’”
“That’s not what I asked, though, is it?” Linda rolls her eyes. “That’s a boring job interview question. I don’t want a boring job interview answer. I want Eris’s insider expertise on where he-” Linda pauses as she corrects herself on the pronoun, “zesees the industry going, given the risk and industry fragility.”
“You want my honest answer?” I challenge. If Linda doesn’t want a job interview answer, I’ll give her the real one. The nonchalant jackass answer, instead of the charming response I probably should give.
Blake puts their phone down next to me with a quiet sigh. I pat their thigh under the table, hoping it’s reassuring, but not really caring. Blake might wear a mask around their parents, but I don’t want to. While I could, it’s uncomfortable. I can be less abrasive without faking politeness. I am with everyone else who has made it past the repulsive exterior, why not Blake’s parents? Blake looks over at me expectantly, but they show no hint of disapproval or encouragement behind their mask. My only clue that they won’t be upset is the hand that softly touches my “And I say fuck it!” tattoo on my forearm.
With a frown, Linda nods for me to continue.
“I don’t fucking know where any of this is going. I don’t know how I ended up in this job in the first place. I stumble through life, figuring shit out as I go.” I set my jaw, daring Linda’s frown to argue with me. “This is a good job, don’t get me wrong, and I hope I can keep it, but if I can’t? I’ll stumble somewhere else. But I always land on my feet.”
It’s the wrong answer for meeting the parents. I’m supposed to say I have a five-year plan and a solid job record and bullshit. But it wouldn’t be true. I was getting by okay as a tattoo artist, and I’m getting by easier now as a cannabis scientist and retail manager of the dispensary. My parents always had so many plans for me that I never had a say in, and I don’t want to limit myself the way they expected me to.
Already, this job has way too much responsibility, too muchrespectability, for my taste. But I’m thirty-two, with arthritis that keeps me from the art that used to nourish me. I can’t even sketch for more than an hour at a time anymore without needing three days of extra-strength pain meds. At this point, I can stomach a bit of respectability if it means being comfortable.
To my surprise, Linda nods approvingly, despite the frown. “I like that attitude! Land on your feet! That’s on period!”
“No,” Blake immediately says. “Please don’t say that, Mom.”
I bite back my laugh, because there’d be some exasperation mixed in that might hurt Blake’s feelings if they’re already stressed. Blake has barely said a word this whole time, other than telling their mom what not to say. While Linda seems to be prone to saying the wrong thing, I think I like her, overall. My own mother would never have accepted me working in any risky industry, let alone not showing an ounce of ambition in my work. Linda not only accepts it, she seems to support it.
“My students say it all the time!” Linda protests.
“Doesn’t make it okay,” Blake sighs.
“Remember that link I sent you, Linda?” Matt asks. “The one about Gen Z slang?”
“Oh, is that one of those appropriation phrases?” Linda asks. “I had no idea! I thought it was just what the kids were saying.” She pats my arm with another hum; so many of Blake’s weird mouth sounds and vocal stims make so much sense after meeting their mom. “So what’s the plan for September?”
