I bite my lip.That’s true, but it feels different from the time in my life when I was glued to Candace. Even my mom knows this is different. She must, or she wouldn’t be in favor of it.To say she wasn’t Candace’s biggest fan is the understatement of the century.
“I know,” I say. “It’s my fault I can’t say the stupid words and be in a relationship with her already.”
Mom’s voice softens. “Honey,” she says. “That’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.” It’s like Su-Lin and I were talking about last night. Sometimes a lot of things feel like my fault, even when I know logically they aren’t. “I’m in love with her, so I should be able to call her my—” My throat tightens. “That g-word.”
“That’s closer to saying it than I’ve heard you before.”
“Right. And when saying the first letter of a word counts as progress, that’s when you know you’re really pathetic.”
“Brendan,” Mom says, “did you call me just to tell me how awful you are?”
I slump back in my chair like a sulky teenager. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly why I called her. Half because I need someone to talk to about the mess that I’m making and half because I want to hear her tell me that I’m wrong. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” Mom says. “But honey, are you happy with the way things are going?”
I think about that. “Yes and no. I mean, I love that I can finally admit I have feelings for her, you know? And the making out is amazing.”
“You can spare me the details of that,” Mom says. “But you’re not sleeping together yet?”
I don’t usually spare my mom the details, largely because I don’t have anyone else to talk to. “Like, early second base. Clothes on, hands under.”
“No details!” Mom says, and I smile, twisting my coffee cup around on the bistro table.
“Oh my god, Mom. Like you don’t know what constitutes second base.”
“I’ll remind you I have been to all the bases. I just don’t want to hear about my son’s escapades, though I’m glad you’re having them now. It’s been long enough.”
I take another sip of coffee and look up at the sky through the leaves of a short palm tree. “You’re one to talk.” My mom hasn’t dated anyone since my father, and the divorce was two decades ago.
“It hasn’t been all that long,” Mom says.
I raise my eyebrows.This is news to me. Not that I go inquiring about my mom’s sex life, but I just assumed. “Really?”
“Yes, I ran into your orthodontist a couple months ago. He was such a nice man.”
I blink, sure I can’t be following this conversation. “You had sex with my orthodontist? Isn’t he married?”
“Divorced,” Mom says.
She didn’t deny it. “Oh my god, Mom. Myorthodontist?Do you know how many hours he’s spent with his hands in my mouth? And he had bad breath.”
“Well he didn’t have bad breath when I saw him, I can tell you that.”
I reach up and cover my ear, even though the phone is pressed to the other one, so this does me no good. “Ughhh.”
“Now you know how I feel. Besides, you haven’t been to the orthodontist in ten years. It was all very cordial.”
I have no words for the fact that my mom describes her sexual encounters ascordial. “So are youseeinghim?”
“No,” Mom says. “But a woman has needs.”
This I understand, but I definitely do not want to think about my orthodontist and my mom getting it on. Possibly in an orthodontists chair.Though I’m pretty sure Su-Lin and I could have a lot of fun with one of those. Yes, this is a much better train of thought; I lean into this one. I imagine Su-Lin on top of me, reclining the chair, shining one of those blinding overhead lights in my eyes and making some joke about bedside manner. Do dentists have that? Is it chairside manner?
Oh, god. I’m not supposed to be thinking about that, either. Casual. We’re being casual.
“How’s Su-Lin doing with everything?” Mom asks. I’m not sure if she means us seeing other people or me being a crazy person or the fact that I won’t call her my . . . g-word.
