Page 40 of Sing Your Secrets
Her brows cinch in confusion. “Cuddly as in he wanted to kiss you while he was coming?”
I laugh so loud a few people dining nearby our table shoot me a dirty look. I don’t know why Mom always picks these quiet, upscale fancy lunch locations for our weekly get-togethers. I feel so out of place here. I feel out of place anywhere they dress the tables in floor-length white linens and insist on setting a napkin in my lap.
“No—as in we didn’t have sex. We just cuddled in bed.”
“Oh boy,” she mumbles. “How’d he take it when you dumped his ass?”
I shrug innocently. “I didn’t. I’m going with the flow. He said he wants to get to know each other first. He got up the next morning and made me coffee and kissed me goodbye—on the cheek. He’s going to plan a really nice first date. It was cute. Definitely a refreshing change of pace from my typical interactions with men.”
“I’m not going to cause trouble,” Mani says with a serious expression. “I will tell you all of Earth’s secrets while safeguarding yours.”
“What the hell kind of response is that?”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you,” she says as she swivels her fork furiously once more against the bottom of her pasta dish. “I was speaking to the aliens that have kidnapped Reese and are currently using her hollowed shell as a vessel.”
“Ha. Ha,” I respond with zero amusement.
“You slept in the same bed and he didn’t make a move? I’m just saying—that kind of screams small penis to me,” she singsongs before she inserts another giant pile of pasta in her mouth.
“I’m not worried. I’ve had great sex with guys who have small penises.” Mani gives me her I’m-calling-bullshit-so-hard look, so I correct my statement. “Okay, I’ve had decent sex with one guy who had a small penis, but it was nice actually. He was a little lacking in the size department so he was far more eager to please via other means.” I stick my tongue out at her and she raises her glass.
“Cheers,” Mani says as I clink my own glass flute against hers. “Here’s hoping Miles has a tiny dick so you’ll get oral to your heart’s desire.”
We both break down in laughter and are once again met with disgusted stares from the stuffy-ass suits, hosting their business lunches at this uppity restaurant.
“Where’s your mom? She’s more than forty minutes late.”
Yanking my phone out of my satchel, I shoot her a text.
Me:We’ve ordered and are eating. Are you still on the way?
Me: Let me know if you want me to order you something…to go.
If Mom doesn’t show, I won’t be terribly disappointed. Lunch with Mani is far more entertaining than my mother once again reminding me I can retake the LSATs if I want to attempt a decent score. My true aptitude for standardized testing is a secret I’ll take to my grave.
“It’s weird,” I mumble. “She was the one adamant about switching Wednesday to Monday this week because she had something oh-so-important to tell me that couldn’t wait. It’s why I dragged you along.”
“Emotional support?” Mani asks.
“A diversion, in case I need to slip out the back.”
Mani’s jaw drops. “A scenario in which you’d ditch me with your stick-up-the-ass mother while you flee?”
I tap my nose twice telling her she’s spot on, charade-style. “But anyway, she must’ve gotten caught up at work or something because—”
My mouth falls open when I see Mom enter the restaurant and make a beeline to the hostess stand. My expression is dramatic enough that Mani whips her head around, her red ponytail flying in the air. “Is that your dad with her?” she asks as she turns back around, her eyes almost as wide as mine.
“Yup.”
“They look like they’re together. That’s weird, right?”
I force my mouth closed and swallow the pool of saliva that’s collected beneath my tongue. “Yeah, Mani. It’s weird. Super. Duper. Fucking. Weird.”
* * *
Mom's fidgeting. She’s not usually a sheepish person. Her demeanor in a courtroom reminds me of the more gruesome scenes in Terminator. I think “total annihilation” would be the best way to describe her communication style. But right now, even though she’s dressed to kill in a classy, feminine, gray business suit with her blonde hair smoothed back in a tidy ponytail, she’s fidgety. She’s flushed. For the first time in my adult life, I think she’s out-drinking me.
“Whew,” she says, patting gently under her light eyes as if she can feel the pink blotchy patches. “Those go right to your head. Good thing I’m off early today.” She chuckles nervously as she swivels her empty champagne flute against the table.