“No, he doesn’t, James. Stop pulling my leg.” She scratches his chin, and he headbutts her knee. “Oh, he’s a sweetheart.”
“Uh-oh,” my dad says, coming to stand by her and looking down at Mr. K.
“I’m not pulling your leg. He really does like swimming.”
My mom corners me later that evening when I’m dragging a sheet and a blanket out of a closet in Des’s bedroom to make up a bed on the couch.
“James, you and Sadie don’t have to pretend you’re not together,” she whispers. “Just because your dad and I are here.”
What? “What the hell gave you that impression?”
“There’s a whole load of fantasy books in here,” my mom says, waving her hand toward the bookcase. “You don’t read fantasy.” Her jaw is set.
Uh-oh.
But she’d be surprised these days. Sadie’s been persuading me to try all sorts of things. We put all the books we brought back from Queens in here because they were the only shelves with any space.
“We just collected a lot of books from her mom’s place. This was the only space in the apartment.”
My mom gives me a skeptical look. “Are you telling us the truth here, James?”
“About what?”
“About you and Jane? Your dad and I thought it was very strange. Jane’s far too sensible to give up on you, and then we turn up here and find you living with another woman!”
“Mom, I’m not living with Sadie. I work with her. That’s it.”
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
What? “She never looks at me, Mom.”
“Exactly!”
The following day, I have perhaps the most uncomfortable day I’ve ever had with my parents. After the conversation with my mom, it’s clear that they’ve decided that, because she’s sharing an apartment with me, the breakdown of my relationship with Jane is all Sadie’s fault. I shake my head and tell them quietly, when Sadie’s out of earshot, that she had nothing to do with it, but they are icily polite to her and keep asking pointed questions. They’re convinced I’m sleeping in the living room to save face. And they are not those people; they’re always warm and kind. Now I’m wishing that I’d shared some of the oblivious things that Jane has said to me. But something about how they’ve been ever since they arrived makes me think that the only way it’ll get through to them is if they meet Jane and ask her all their own questions. Maybe she’ll behave differently with them.
So Saturday night, fortunately, or unfortunately—I can’t quite make up my mind—the three of us head off to meet Jane for dinner. We leave Sadie at home and catch the subway to Camillo’s, an Italian restaurant near Prospect Park, which is halfway between Des’s apartment and my old place in Brighton Beach.
I’m studying the menu against the wooden tabletop when movement in the doorway catches my eye, and when I look over, a server is talking to Jane, and …holy shit… Kevin is standing right behind her. She broughtKevinhere for this meal? My heart starts a crazy rhythm in my chest. What is she thinking? As they weave through the tables, he takes her hand in his, and all I can think is:
Run!
Run!
Run!
This is a disaster. Of epic proportions. My parents are not prepared for this. At all.
I put my napkin on the table and stand up, and my mom and my dad turn to where Jane is now standing, a big beaming smile on her face.
“Mom! Pops!” she says.
They both get up with equally huge smiles, and my mom wraps her in a warm hug.
“It’s so good to see you!” my mom exclaims. “I don’t know why you and James …”
“Likewise!” Jane interrupts, still grinning as she steps back quickly and tugs Kevin forward. “And this is my boyfriend, Kevin. He’s come here straight from his train to meet me. I hope you don’t mind one extra.”
An odd frown crosses my dad’s face, and my mom’s eyes whizz down to where Kevin’s fingers are linked through Jane’s and back up again as her mouth drops open.Fuck.On the subway, she said she would talk to Jane this evening and smooth over whatever it was that had caused us to have a “falling-out.” Her words not mine. She patted my hand and told me that she’d fix it and not to worry.
