"You're the belle of the ball," I comment, backing out of our parking space.
"They know I'm sick," she answers, waving me off.
"So if you weren't sick, they wouldn't talk to you?"
Mom flicks my thigh with the side of her hand. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. Are you hungry?"
"Starving."
I smile. "Creamed spinach it is."
"Autumn Marie…"
"I'm kidding, Mom." I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me.
We settle on pizza and salad. Unfortunately, she doesn’t eat much. I see her pop an anti-nausea lozenge into her mouth after two bites … the chemo effects I’d read about must be finally bothering her. I want to ask about it, but she doesn’t say anything and I wonder if she just wants a normal Sunday lunch with her daughter, so I don’t mention it.
When we’re eating, Mom tells me there's no way the pizza in New York City could be any better than it is at this place. I tell her she's right, it's better here because when I ate it in NYC I didn't have her sitting across from me. She tears up, which makes me tear up, and she tells me to quit saying sweet things.
It's something she would have said to me years ago, but aside from the words themselves, everything about her delivery is all wrong. The tone, the tears, the expression on her face.
This time, I don't believe her.
* * *
Later that night,my phone buzzes with a text and I inwardly groan. If it’s Matt again I’ll vomit. He tried to send moreI miss youtexts, but I’ve just ignored them. His most recent text said,I’m starting to get the hint. Hopefully by now the hint has been fully received. I blow out a relieved breath when I look down and see it’s from Livvie.
Livvie: I don't know about you, but I could use a drink.
Me: Perfect timing. My mom just went to bed.
Livvie: Orange Peel Brewing Company? I don't want fancy wine. I'm in a cold beer mood.
Me: I can be there in twenty.
Livvie: See you soon, baboon.
Me: Is that one of the inappropriate texts you warned me about?
Livvie: No. I'm just feeling you out to decide how receptive you are to jokes in general. Starting slow, you know? Like, just the tip.
The water I'm drinking catches in my throat and I cough while I'm laughing. It burns.
Me: Ahhh there it is.
Livvie: That's what she said. See you soon!
I pullon comfortable jeans and my Converse shoes. No spiked heels for this meetup. Livvie is my keep-it-real girlfriend, one who I can be myself around. Maybe I'll wear heels again, but right now it's difficult to imagine a scenario in which I'll need them.
I get to the brewing company first and grab a booth. Livvie walks in a few minutes later. She's dressed like me.
"Tell me the truth," she says, sliding in across from me. "You thought about skinny jeans and heels too, didn't you?"
"Of course," I nod. "But Chucks are one thousand times more comfortable. What were we doing going out in heels?"
"Rookie mistake. Blame it on youth." She eyes me. "How old are you? I know you're younger than me." She points at her eyes. "You don't have fine lines yet."
