“I didn’t.” I consider the rest of my explanation before opening my mouth.
Mom just stares at me, waiting.
“A friend ran by for me.”
“A friend, huh?”
She’s on to me. If it were Shannon or Laura, I would have said their names.
“Don’t get too excited,” I tell her. “He’s knocking on the wrong door.”
Mom smiles softly at me. I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say.
“Just because the hinges are rusty and the jamb sticks doesn’t mean you shouldn’t open that door.”
I laugh, grabbing a drumstick out of the to-go container and plopping onto one of the chairs.
“Well …” I say with a sigh. “... when you open the door, there are two adorable, rambunctious, needy preschool boys, threatening to eat one another’s caterpillars.”
Mom’s face scrunches in confusion.
“The twins, Mom. I can’t date right now. Besides, what man wants to take on a whole family? Men are simple creatures. They want their own children. And they may see a woman and think they want to date her. But they don’t want an instant family.”
“Any man from around here knows your situation.”
“Knowing I have the boys is not the same as committing to be a part of their lives. And I’m not starting a parade of men through their lives. If I date, I need to know he’s serious.And if he’s serious, he’s taking on more than I think most men would—or maybe even should.”
“Or …” Mom licks the tip of one of her fingers, setting the bone on her plate. “You could just let a man take you to dinner.” She pauses and smiles at me. “You know. For fun?”
I finish the drumstick and take Mom’s plate and mine, scraping them into the trash and rinsing them. Then I kiss my mom on the cheek and tell her goodnight.
“Fun, Angie,” Mom says, looking me dead in the eyes. “You deserve some fun. Don’t make it such a big deal. You can go out with this man and not tell the boys. Explain to him that you aren’t getting serious right now. Go have some fun.”
I smile at her and say, “Goodnight, Mom.”
“Fun!” she shouts after me as I walk out the kitchen.
Do I think about her words? Yes.
I might enjoy a night out with EJ.
I probably would.
I sigh, remembering the way he looked when he came to check up on the dryer. And then the way he stared into my eyes when he handed me the dinner he went out of his way to buy for us.
Yes. I’d enjoy dinner with EJ. More than I want to admit.
I walk upstairs and into my bathroom.
But then what?
And isn’t going out for fun just leading him on?
More importantly, is there a support group for overthinkers like me?
I laugh to myself as I squirt toothpaste onto my toothbrush.
The next day at the salon, Laura continually asks me how the burgers were.
