by Tanith Morse
“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all,” I smiled, glancing at Mum, who had a permanent grin etched on her face. “I really did want to meet you.”
Greg laughed softly. “Thank goodness for that. I kept telling Lisa not to arrange this unless you were completely comfortable with it. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
“Fancy a cup of tea?” Mum asked, moving toward the door.
“Oh, I’d love one,” Greg replied. But before she could go any further, he placed his hand on her arm. “Tell you what—why don’t you and your lovely daughter both put your feet up and I’ll make the tea? I’m sure you’re both tired from making that delicious dinner I smell cooking.” He ushered us to the sofa and literally forced Mum to sit.
“Oh Greg!” she pouted. “I won’t hear of it. You’re supposed to be the guest. Please, let me …”
But he was already out the door.
“Well, what do you think?” Mum whispered.
“He seems lovely,” I whispered back.
Her smiled deepened and she squeezed my arm affectionately. “You see, darling? Told you you’d like him.”
I nodded vacantly, listening to the sound of the kettle boiling and the chink of cups and saucers coming from the kitchen. This guy really was something else.
Mum’s face froze. “Oh god, what if he sees that awful lion mug?” She clutched her forehead in despair. “And what if he looks in the wastebasket and sees those burnt potatoes? What then? He’ll know I messed up dinner.”
“Stop worrying,” I said, trying to calm her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
With a triumphant grin, Greg returned carrying a tray of tea and cookies. Placing it on the table, he took the chair opposite and proceeded to pour us each a cup. “I presume you both take milk and sugar?”
“Yes,” we replied in unison.
“Two sugars,” I said.
“None for me,” Mum said.
“Already sweet enough, huh?” he joked.
She giggled. I raised my eyes heavenward. This was starting to get embarrassing.
After the teas were poured, Mum took hers to the kitchen to finish making dinner and left me to get better acquainted with Greg. We talked about many things: school, how bad TV was, and what good books we’d read lately. It turned out his all-time favorite novel was Nineteen Eighty Four.
At one point, he even asked me if I thought he was wearing too much aftershave and admitted that he’d had an unfortunate accident before coming over here.
“I was so jittery about meeting you that I spilled half a bottle of Hugo Boss down my shirt!”
I laughed. “You smell great to me.” I was touched that he even cared what I thought. Most adults treated people of my age like we were invisible.
By the time Mum popped her head round the door to tell us the food was ready, he’d totally won me over. Greg was kind and sweet and attentive, hanging on my every word like he’d waited half a lifetime to hear it. He was, hands down, the most charming guy I’d ever met. Despite my allegiance to Dad, I started rooting for this relationship to work.
We took our places at the dinner table and Mum served the roast beef. She’d tried to make the meal classier by putting the French fries in glass dishes, but she was fooling no one.
The moment my teeth sank into the beef, I cringed. It was dry and leathery and tasted like burnt rubber. I struggled to keep any of it down.
Greg cleared his throat. “Um, Lisa, you wouldn’t happen to have any salt, would you? I think mine might need a bit more seasoning.”
“Of course, darling.” She got up and went to the kitchen.
Greg shot me a knowing glance.
“I’m so sorry about this,” I whispered. “We had a little mishap of our own before you got here. Don’t worry, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
He placed his finger to his lips as Mum returned carrying a pair of condiment shakers. “There you go,” she said. “Salt and pepper for anyone that wants it.”
She sat back at the table and took a few mouthfuls of beef before pushing the plate away in disgust. “Oh my god, that’s abysmal, isn’t it? It’s like eating cardboard! I’m so sorry I’ve tried to poison you both.”
“Nonsense,” Greg smiled. “I’ll admit the meat is a bit on the tough side, but then, I do like my beef well done. All in all, I think it tastes rather good. All it needed was a bit of salt to bring out the flavor.” And to demonstrate the point, he devoured an entire forkful without flinching. I followed suit, and for the next ten minutes, the three of us battled to finish what was on our plates.
Mum couldn’t keep her eyes off Greg. Every few seconds, I’d catch them flirting with each other. I didn’t mind, though. I really liked Greg, and Mum seemed happier than I’d ever seen her, so where was the harm? I wanted her to be happy.
“So, you guys work together, right?” I asked, picking a chunk of beef out my teeth.
“Yes, Greg works in the accounts department,” Mum gushed.
He smiled indulgently at her and reached across the table for her hand. “Your mother was the one who interviewed me for the job. I knew from the moment I entered that office that she’d hire me. We got on so well.”
Mum fluttered her lashes coquettishly. “Well, you were the best applicant. The fact that you were so charming and funny and witty had nothing to do with it. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I laughed.
“Right, time for dessert,” Mum said, getting up to start clearing the table.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it.” Quickly, I stacked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen. I wasn’t just being helpful. I wanted to ensure dessert didn’t end in disaster, too.
After dumping the plates in the sink and leaving them to soak, I rummaged through the fridge and found a delicious-looking chocolate layer cake. Not much preparation involved, thank goodness.
I took a knife from the rack, cut three slices from the cake and distributed them on the silver dessert dishes Mum loved so much. Then, balancing it all on a tray, I kicked open the door and returned to the living room.
Greg beamed as I presented him with his slice. “Wow, this looks great. Thank you, Samantha.”
“It’s Sam,” I said dryly. “I’d prefer for you to call me Sam. That’s what all my friends call me.”
“Well thank you, Sam. Nice to know I’m part of your inner circle.” He winked at me and I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
After dessert, Greg announced that he had a couple of surprises in store.
“The first one is just a little housewarming gift,” he said. He reached into a canvas bag and withdrew a long, wrapped object shaped like a large bottle of wine. Tentatively, Mum pulled off the tissue paper to reveal a silver candle holder shaped like the Venus de Milo. The thing was huge, almost two feet in height, and beautifully crafted.
“Wow, it’s heavy,” Mum commented, placing the holder in the middle of the dining table. “I’ll have to find a very big candle to put in it.”
“Do you like it?” Greg asked.
“I love it!” she said. “Thanks so much.”
Then he handed us each a blue bag. I opened mine and was shocked to see there was a Burberry handbag inside. I wasn’t into designer accessories, but even I knew quality when I saw it. Becky will be so jealous.
“Thanks Greg, this is lovely,” I beamed.
Mum dove into her bag and pulled out an identical handbag. Then setting it on the table, she reached in again and took out a little black jewelry box. Carefully, she flipped it open. Nestled inside was a pair of gorgeous pearl stud earrings that matched the necklace she wore.
“Oh Greg, you shouldn’t have!” she gasped. “These are simply divine.”
He didn’t say anything, just continued grinning that half-grin of his. For a second, they gazed into each others’ eyes like two lovebirds. I decided to cut in before it got too intense. “Who’s up for a game of Monopoly?”
“Me!” Greg said.
I went
to the cupboard and brought back my tattered old box of Monopoly. Then for the next hour or so, the three of us sat around the table acting like excited children. It had been so long since I’d had fun like this, and it brought back all my good childhood memories – from a time before the dark shadows descended.
We played three games, and Mum thrashed us in all of them. Greg consoled himself by admitting this was the first time he’d played Monopoly in twenty years.
“I just need some practice,” he said with a wink. “Next time, I’ll be a force to reckon with!”
Just before ten, I turned in for the evening. I kissed Mum goodnight, said goodbye to Greg, and went to my bedroom. It was long while before I slept, though. Mum’s shrill giggles and the sound of the TV kept me awake until sleep and I found each other.
It was nearly twelve when I awoke the next day. I showered and then went to make something to eat. When I got to the kitchen, I found Mum sipping a cup of black coffee at the breakfast bar, looking slightly hung over.
“How was last night?” I asked, refilling the kettle at the sink. “You look pretty rough.”
She smiled mysteriously. “Oh last night was very interesting. Let’s just say I had an amazing time.”
Resisting the urge to interrogate her further, I took a mug down from the shelf and spooned in some instant coffee. “What time did Greg go home?”
She was silent.
“Must have been late,” I continued. “He was still here when I finally fell asleep.”
“All right ladies, I’m off,” said a voice from the doorway.
We both turned and saw Greg standing there, adjusting his cufflinks, his coat folded over one arm like he was ready to go.
“All right, darling,” Mum trilled, getting up and kissing him on his cheek.
“Good morning, Sam,” he smiled. “Did you have a good sleep?”
“Um, yeah,” I replied uncertainly.
He turned to Mum. “I’ll call you later, my dear. I had a wonderful night.” They hugged and she saw him off into the hallway. There was a lot of giggling and whispering, and then I heard the front door slam.
She came back to the kitchen with a dreamy expression on her face. “Isn’t he just the best?” she gushed.
I didn’t answer. The kettle had finished boiling and I poured myself a coffee. After a couple of sips, I turned to face her, my eyes flashing. The two of us had some serious talking to do.
“So is this going to become a regular thing?” I asked darkly.
“What do you mean?” Her face was the picture of innocence.
“Greg sleeping over.”
She colored up. “Of course not! I didn’t plan this, you know. It just sort of happened. We had a few drinks, it got late, and he wasn’t in a fit state to drive. It made sense for him to stay over.”
“You don’t have to justify it, Mum. I’m concerned, that’s all. I mean, aren’t we moving a bit fast here?”
“Whoa! So now I’m getting relationship advice from a seventeen-year-old? Who’s never even dated before?”
“I might be in a better position than you. At least I can still see straight.” I tucked a damp hair behind my ear. “I mean, I really like Greg and everything, but you know how men are—even the nice ones.”
“Actually I don’t. Perhaps you’d enlighten me?”
I shifted awkwardly. “Most guys don’t like women who give it up too easily. They want us to play hard to get. Or so I’m told,” I added hastily. “Look, bottom line is, you’re my mother and I love you to bits and I just think that maybe you should take things a bit slower, that’s all.”
“This is surreal. I feel like I’m the child and you’re the parent.”
“And I hope you’re being careful,” I added sternly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She almost spat out her coffee. “Oh no, now you’re going too far. I’m not going to discuss my contraceptive arrangements with you.”
“Well, if my boyfriend slept over, I’m sure you’d be asking me the same thing.”
“Some chance of that,” she muttered. “Darling, you do like boys, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“There isn’t anything you want to tell me, is there?”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“Because I want you to know that I’ll love and support you no matter what sexuality you are.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Mum, I’m not a lesbian, okay? Get that idea out of your head right now. Just because I don’t going around hurling myself at every boy, that doesn’t mean I’m gay. Jeez.”
“Just checking,” she said, grinning. “But even if you were, I wouldn’t mind. You know how open-minded …”
“Leave it. You’re only digging a deeper hole for yourself.”
There was a moment of charged silence. I sipped my coffee and suddenly noticed how bitter it tasted. I realized I’d forgotten to add sugar.
“How much do you really know about Greg?” I resumed.
“Well, let’s see: I know that he’s funny and smart and one heck of a kisser.”
I made a barfing gesture. “Urgh! Way too much information.”
She cackled wickedly. “What else do you want to know?”
“How old is he?”
“Old enough.”
“Does he have any kids?”
“He’s never been married.”
“That’s not the same thing. Not being married doesn’t mean he doesn’t have kids.”
“Well he never mentioned any to me,” she sighed. “Although, he did say he’d like some. Look darling, I know this can’t be easy for you. I know how much you miss your father, and it’s obviously going to be difficult to adjust to idea of me having someone new in my life. But please, give Greg a chance. For my sake.”
“You really like him, don’t you?” I said.
“I do,” she admitted. “And I want to do everything in my power to make this work. So if you don’t want him staying round again—fine. He won’t. Want me to take things a little slower? I will. I’ll give you all the time you need, darling. We can take things one step at a time. Agreed?”
“Agreed. And Mum?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We hugged and I felt unaccountably teary-eyed. She quickly pulled away from me and took her empty mug to the sink.
“What are your plans for today?” she asked with her back to me.
“Nothing much. I’ve got some History course work to finish but nothing too major.”
“And how’s the lovely Frasier?”
“Oh, he’s fine.”
“You really should invite him round again. Maybe we could make it a foursome. You, me, Frasier, Greg.”
“Hello? I thought we were supposed to be taking things slowly?”
“Oh yes, I forgot.”
“Plus,” I said, emphasizing the word, “for the umpteenth time, Frasier is not my boyfriend. Never was, never will be. He’s just a friend.”
“So you keep saying,” she replied, grinning. “So what about the other boy?”
“What other boy?”
“The mystery boy who took you to lunch at the Winchester. What was his name again? Lee? You’ve been very, very secretive about him.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. We just went out a couple of times as friends, that’s all. Nothing more. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be seeing him any more.”
“Why not? Did he do something to upset you?”
“You could say that.”
“What happened exactly?”
I clutched the back of my head, feeling a migraine coming. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
I sighed. “Basically, he said he Googled me and he started asking me loads of questions about Elliot and stuff. Poking his nose in where it didn’t belong.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
That wa
s the last we said on the subject.
***
“Does anyone know the meaning of the word irony?” Mr. Maine pressed his spidery fingertips together and surveyed the class. “Becky, any ideas?”
Becky glanced up from her notepad and gave him a goofy smile. “Um, is it when you say one thing but you mean something else?”
“Yes. But there’s so much more to it than that. Frasier, what do you think? Can you give us a meatier definition?”
Frasier didn’t miss a beat. “It’s when you do or say something that has the opposite effect from what you intended.”
“Better,” Mr. Maine enthused. “Doesn’t completely sum it up, but you’re getting close.” He pointed to a red-haired girl at the back. “Lucy, give us an example of irony.”
“I go shopping, forget to carry my umbrella, and it rains.”
Mr. Maine cocked a brow. “Well everybody, is that ironic or not?”
There was a long pause before someone answered, “Yes, definitely.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought it wouldn’t rain, and it did.”
Mr. Maine’s expression remained ambiguous. “We’ll come back to that in a minute. Okay, someone else give me some irony. Sam? You got one for me?”
I bit my lip, trying hard to think. To be honest, I hadn’t really been listening, as I assumed I already knew what irony was. Now I’d been put on the spot, my mind had gone totally blank. “Um, I really enjoy answering questions about irony—not!”
“Nope. That’s sarcasm,” he snapped. “Not the same thing. Sorry.”
“Now I’m totally confused,” Becky muttered. “Sam said one thing but meant something else. I thought that was irony?”
“No, and I’ll tell you why in a moment.” Mr. Maine marched up to Becky’s desk, palms outstretched as if waiting for something. Reluctantly, she took the ball of gum out her mouth and handed it to him. He walked back to the front of the class and tossed it in the bin. “Believe me,” he continued, “if you can grasp the concept of irony and learn how to apply it properly, you’ll all be infinitely better writers. I promise you.”
“Ironically, he’s giving me a bloody headache,” somebody whispered.
I held my breath to stop myself from laughing. Frasier turned around in his seat and stared at me, making my smile drop. Discreetly, he slid a piece of paper under my desk.
