Which is a long-winded way to say that my next Greek food lunch with Mom, the weekend after the Pirates-and-LotR weekend—didn’t include Diego.After we hugged and settled at our table, Mom said, “I haven’t heard from you since last week.I thought you’d call after the Pirates game.”
I flushed and ducked my head.“Sorry.Got a little crazy last weekend.”
“With Diego?”She arched an eyebrow.
I nodded, trying not to smiletoomuch.
“I was hoping he’d come with you today,” she said.
“Still trying to take it slow,” I replied easily, in spite of it not being true at all in my mind.If Diego was taking it slow, great.I was all in, and he knew it, and if I ended up broken-hearted…
Worth it, at this point.
“Why is that, again?”she wondered.
“Everyone our age has plenty of war stories.”
“I was married for three years by the time I was your age,” she said with a little laugh.
“You saying I’m on the shelf?”I chuckled, throwing some Jane Austen at her.
She loved it, of course.“You’re just getting started, honey.Though If you do find a rich nobleman who’s looking for a husband…”
“Probably not.”Had to admit though, “I’m impressed.You adjusted to queering your jokes pretty fast.”
“Thank you.”She smiled genuinely.“I’m working on it.Not that it takes work to accept,” she added quickly.
“I get it,” I assured her.It was nice to think she’d actually tried to educate herself after last time had gone a little bit sideways.Best case scenario.
“Do you think Diego would ever get married?”she asked.
I laughed even harder.“Diego won’t even say I’m his boyfriend.”
“But you obviously are.You two are constantly together.”
“Not constantly.I mean, I tried it, but he’s way too smart to let me get codependent and weird this early on.”
“You’re a romantic,” she said, eyes crinkling at the corners.“Just like your father.”
She winced.
I smiled, though.“It’s okay.I want to talk about him.”
“He was such a feminist, you know.I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.”
I chuckled, because yeah, absolutely.“I’m sure.”
She sighed.“I think he was just… saying things he heard his whole life.”
“Partly,” I agreed.She’d clearly been thinking about it, though probably not as much as I had.“But there was a lot of, I don’t know, vitriol.Like, who has vitriol for Winnie the Pooh?”
“Winnie the Pooh?”
“Yeah, he had a high voice, like Mickey Mouse, so dad always sneered and called him a faggot.”
She blinked the word but recovered quickly.“Probably made him cry when he was a child.You know that’s why he wouldn’t watch Bambi?”
“I thought it was because he used to hunt.”
