“Right. So how is it?”
“We’re getting along better.”
“You going to ask her out?”
“No.” He didn’t have to think before he answered. “It’s not like that. We barely started treating each other as people.”
“That’s how it starts.” Caleb’s voice was that of the wisest sage on the mountain.
“I also know she wouldn’t think twice about screwing me over if it benefited her.”
“Oh.” Caleb paused. “Okay, that’s not usually how it starts. I’ve got to go. Sunday work call, if you can believe it.”
They hung up, and Wes hesitated before sending the wedding therapist link over. It couldn’t hurt, and sometimes Caleb was too focused on how he thought he should act about things instead of how he wanted to. Reading about the other couples Wes had featured might convince him to talk to Isabel.
A woman with dark hair and huge sunglasses strolled by, chatting on her phone. His heart gave a little lurch. Was that Nadine? It wasn’timpossible, as she lived in the neighborhood. No, the woman was too tall, and when she laughed, it was nothing like Nadine’s gasping chuckle.
He watched her kick a soccer ball back to the game to a chorus of thanks. A crush on Nadine. Maybe he’d had a little one all those years back, but that was a lifetime ago. Ask her out? God, he could imagine the look on her face. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it, then walked slowly back to his house. A text from Caleb came in reply to the wedding therapist link, and all it said wasLOL.
So that was a bust. Wes would make sure to keep up a regular series of calls and check-ins to see how he was doing. Caleb wasn’t a guy used to needing help, and he’d bristle at any offer. Christ. Why were people so difficult?
Speaking of. He fished out his keys and let himself into the house.
“Ma?” Wes called out as soon as he came in the door, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a pale ghost rose from the table. “Shit.”
“Wesley. Watch your language.” His mother’s chiding voice came right before the lights flashed on. “Did you eat?”
“Why were you sitting at the table like that?” There was no book or anything in front of her. She was just waiting.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, Ma.” At least she was in a pleasant mood.
“Sit. You need to eat.”
“I’m good.”
His mother bustled to the stove as if only activated when one of her children came home. “Go wash your hands.”
He apologized to his stomach but knew when he was beat. To refuse would mean several days of assuring his mother that he loved her and she was a good mother.
Twenty minutes later, he was back at the table, picking at a plate of rice and flavorless greens. His mother must be the only Chinese woman on earth to not season her food with garlic. Or soy sauce. He felt the chalky grit of the boiled spinach in his teeth and cursed his mother’sstint in England during her formative cooking years, although he knew that was unfair. Even the British used salt.
His mother sat on the other side of the table, using him as a captive audience to pour out a litany of complaints that he barely heard anymore. He’d tried so hard over the years to fix her problems, but nothing ever worked because another issue simply rose to take its place. He made the appropriate noises so she felt heard though, because the moment she sensed him tuning out, she would turn on him.
First it was the people next door. Their baby cried too loud, and she thought the woman smoked. So dirty. Ella wasn’t answering her calls. Wes wasn’t married. Amy was working too hard and getting wrinkles. “Aiya,” his mother said. “No one will marry her if she looks old. She’ll end up like me. Alone.”
He ignored the last part. “She hasn’t hit thirty.”
“I had you when I was twenty-three,” his mother announced as if she didn’t constantly remind him.
“Amy has plenty of time to meet someone if she wants.” Wes picked up his plate, having nobly eaten as much as possible, and went to do the dishes. His fingers ached, and he looked down to see his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the sink. It was always like this with his mother, who simply refused to see the world through anyone else’s eyes or accept it in any way other than what she wanted.
“Amy made me a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow for my check-up,” said his mother from the table. She hadn’t moved. “Come to my office to take me for two in the afternoon.”
Wes took a long breath and turned off the water. “I have to work.”
“Tell work you need to take your mother to the doctor.”
