Heath sat across from his wife, sharing about an upcoming fishing trip he was looking forward to with a male coworker he called Gus. Tallus informed him he expected a freezer full of fillets, and when was salmon season again?
Bernice talked about a film festival she was interested in attending, asking Tallus if he might want tickets. They spoke of reality TV shows. She inquired after his best friend Memphis, his coworker Kitty, and his paternal cousin Costa and his wife. “When’s their baby due again?”
“Any time,” Tallus informed his mother. “I think Tia was due last week.”
“That’s exciting, and it’s a boy?”
“That’s what they say.”
“You never know. The doctors have been wrong in the past. Keep me posted.”
Streams of praise over the food flowed between branches of conversation. I absorbed it all, content in a peacefully silent bubble until Bernice’s attention turned to me. “So, Diem.”
That was all it took. Two words, and the food in my mouth turned to ash.
“Tallus tells me you’re throwing your grandmother a birthday party.”
“Y-yes. Well, no. Um, Tallus is doing the planning. End of the month. She’ll be ninety-three.”
“Isn’t that something. Ninety-three.”
“Hope I live that long,” Heath said.
Tallus, thankfully, explained our plans—hisplans—and went over the finer details of the event. I sank into the background, my heart calming.
I was grateful for the rescue, but it was short-lived. Bernice propped her elbow on the table, chin cupped in her upturned palm. “So, Diem.”
I swallowed the stone in my throat.
“Did you know that you are Tallus’s first serious boyfriend?”
“Mom, don’t.”
I glanced at Tallus, who seemed more annoyed than embarrassed.
“I did.”
“You’re quite a bit older than him, aren’t you?”
“I’m… Ah…”
“Mother, you promised you wouldn’t give him the third degree.”
Bernicetsked and turned to her son. “How is asking him how old he is giving him the third degree?”
“Just don’t. We talked about this. You’re making him uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.” Bernice waved Tallus off. To me, she said, “You’re not uncomfortable, are you, Diem?”
“No, ma’am. B-bernice. I’m thirty-six.” I reached for the recently refilled glass of wine and drained it, cheeks heating. Was that too old? Tallus was a lot younger. Too young? I hadn’t worried about it before.
Heath—a man I had a sudden urge to hug—refilled my wine.
“Thirty-six. Nope. That’s not too old. I told Tallus you might change your mind yet. It takes longer for young men to come around to these things sometimes.” She patted my hand. “You’ll get there.”
“Get where?”
“Mother—” Tallus snapped, a knife’s edge to his tone. “Stop it.”
