Page 20 of Can We Fake It?
She even asks about Jada every time I call, and I hear the joy in her voice as she does. It gives me a little peace of mind knowing that if these really are my mom’s last days, at least she’ll leave the world thinking I’ve found what she always wanted for me – true love.
I find myself enjoying the time with her parents, too. At one point I actually take her dad up on his offer of a golf game, and it becomes immediately clear where Jada gets her sense of humor from.
“Well, you can laugh at my jokes,” he tells me as we’re walking from one hole to the next. “I guess you’re welcome in the family.”
It’s not hard to hold up my end of that bargain, since I genuinely find him funny, and it quickly becomes clear that her parents are as happy with our arrangement as my mom is.
I start helping Jada’s mom in the kitchen whenever we go over for dinner and quickly discover that that’s the way to get myself in Florence’s good books. And I’m actually learning a lot from her, since I was never much of a cook myself before this.
“You know, any man who knows his way around a kitchen is okay in my book,” Florence tells me as she hands me a tomato to chop. “You’re good husband material.”
She gives me an approving nod before going back to prep the salad. In the background I see Jada roll her eyes, and we exchange a knowing glance and a smirk.
I still haven’t suggested taking things further and turning this fake relationship into a fake marriage, but the thought still lingers, especially seeing how much my mom loves Jada. I could actually see myself going through with it, just to make Mom happy and give her the wedding she still so desperately wants. It helps, of course, that hanging out with Jada is fun too – I have no doubt she’d make an amazing fake wife.
We even start spending time together without our families involved. It only makes sense, since I don’t know any couple that exclusively spends time together with their respective parents in tow, but soon it becomes clear we actually like hanging out together.
Some nights after work I end up at the Clearwater Ocean Resort, chatting with Jada as she pours drinks. Other times we go out to catch a movie or to have dinner, and I find our time together is more and more enjoyable every time I see her. It’s not just about keeping up appearances anymore either.
We discover more things that we share in common – we both love hiking but never have any time to do it. We both hate board games and resent that it’s become a new trend among a bunch of our respective friends. We both agree that pineapple on pizza is an abomination. And we both share a guilty love for early 2000s pop music.
“Britney was a visionary,” I tell her one night as we’re taking a walk along the beach.
“I dare say underrated,” Jada replies. “Even if she was and is an international sensation, she’s still not appreciated the way she should be.”
We exchange a knowing but self-conscious grin before laughing.
“Okay, but what about NSYNC? Yay or nay?” I ask and the conversation flows from there.
It pretty quickly becomes obvious that we’re becoming good friends. More and more I find myself looking for her number whenever I have something to share.
My mom just got another MRI. The tumor hasn’t gone down but it hasn’t grown either,I text her one day after getting the news from my mom. She’s the first person I want to tell when I get news like that.
But it’s not just stuff about my mom or about her parents that I feel like sharing. One day I send her a funny video I find on Instagram – a dog that’s been trained to serve drinks, along with a little quip about hiring him at On The Rocks. Another time, I forward her a link to tickets for her favorite band and offer to take her if she feels like going.
She sends me funny memes that link up to conversations we’ve had – sometimes things I’ve just mentioned in passing that she somehow remembers. Other times, she sends me minute-by-minute updates about couples she’s seen dating at the bar – terrible first dates, or marriage proposals, or massive, out-of-control arguments. It’s like sharing in the soap opera that is occasionally her professional life.
It doesn’t take long before we’re exchanging texts every day, and I start to feel like she’s not just a good friend – she’s almost like my best friend. I could easily imagine us getting married. It would be a painless arrangement, good for both of us, and a way to temporarily go through the motions my mom so badly wants, with someone I actually like.
It would be easy, with no strings attached. Since we’re both on exactly the same page when it comes to love and marriage, we could break it off without any mess and probably still remain friends. The more time I spend with Jada, the more sense it seems to make.
Still, there are times when I have to laugh at how crazy all this is.
“You know we could be criminal masterminds,” I joke one day when I go to visit Jada at the resort. “We’re getting so good at this fake relationship thing, I bet we could be real grifters if we really wanted to. What do you say? You could quit bartending, I could quit pharmaceuticals, we could get some beat up old car and just travel the country conducting elaborate scams like Frank Abagnale.”
I shoot her a goofy grin, knowing she’ll appreciate the absurd suggestion.
“Oh definitely,” she says in that dry way I’ve come to love so much. “We’ll find stray parents across the country and make them happy… for a price.”
I laugh and she hands me the beer I ordered, giving me a wink before turning back to the bar and serving the next customer.
14
JADA
Ican see Carter making his way over to me, and I smile. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting him. He does this all the time now. I mean at first, he actually surprised me whenever he showed up, but now it’s like we’re actually a couple, and he comes to the resort constantly.
It’s nice, having him here. And not only does it feel like we’re together, but at this point, there are a lot of coworkers who have come to the conclusion that we must be in love with each other. I don’t even bother to correct anyone anymore, and neither does Carter.