“I have no idea,” I say honestly. “I’ve been using it in place of anything better. The meaning fits, anyway.”
He takes his eyes off the road and shoots me a smile. “I think so.” Returning his attention to the traffic, he adds, “You’re right, it’s time they know.”
So after we’ve eaten, I leave Jason watching TV, get in my car, and go to the house I grew up in. As usual, I don’t bother ringing the bell, using my key to let myself in.
“Hello?” I call.
“In the living room.” That’s Dad, and I close the door and go to find them. They’re settled comfortably, Mom and Gram watching TV and Dad reading, but they all look up when I come in.
“Hello, baby,” Mom says, holding her cheek up for a kiss. “What are you doing here?”
I kiss her and Gram on the cheek and drop a kiss on Dad’s head and a slap on his shoulder, then take a seat in an armchair.
“I wanted to tell you all something. It’s good,” I tack on, just so they won’t worry.
They exchange glances, and Gram mutes the TV.
“We’re all ears,” Dad quips.
“I’m seeing someone, have been for a few weeks, and it’s pretty serious.”
“That’s great, Dimi,” Mom declares, sounding a bit surprised but grinning wide. “What’s his name? Do we know him?”
“Actually, yeah. You met him at the holiday party. It’s Jason.”
Dad laughs. “Jason, the director you work with? The guy you’ve had a professional crush on for fifteen years? That’s fantastic!”
Gram claps her hands. “It’s like a movie! I didn’t get to meet him at Christmas; you’ll have to bring him to meet us.”
“If it’s okay, I thought I’d bring him Monday night,” I suggest, and Gram nods approvingly.
“Of course it’s okay,” Dad says. “You know you can bring a guest anytime you like.”
I stay and chat for a little while longer, but when Gram suggests we have coffee, I make my excuses. “Jason’s waiting at my place,” I explain, and she and Dad get these smug little smirks.
It’s not until I’m nearly home that I realize Mom didn’t say much.
***
Monday night, Jason and I get out of my car and start up the front walk. Well, I do, and then I realize he’s not with me. When I turn around, I see him still standing beside the car, looking at the house.
O-kay.
I walk back to him. “Hey. You okay?”
The smile he pastes on is a little forced. “Yeah. Just nervous, I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
Aw. I kiss him lightly, because we don’t have time for a proper kiss, and squeeze his hand. “It’ll be fine. You met Mom, Pat, Cait, and Sienna already, so it’s just Dad and Gram, really. And they’re excited to meet you.” It’s true. Gram’s rung me three times since last Wednesday with questions about Jason.
He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s do this.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, though, and I can’t say I mind.
I let us into the house, but I don’t need to call out—Sienna and Ryan are hovering in the entryway, waiting for us.
“Hi,” I say dryly, but am completely ignored. Instead, Sienna swoops on Jason and hugs him.
“Thank you so much for taking him on!”
What.
Fuck my life. I hate my sister.
Jase laughs, a startled little sound, and hugs her back. “Uh… no problem? It’s kind of a pleasure, really.”
She pulls back and rolls her eyes. “You say that now. Just… when he starts to drive you insane, we have tips. Don’t just dump him.”
Really. Hate. My. Sister.
“Thanks, Sienna. So glad you’re here.” My tone is completely flat, and I take Jason’s arm and tug him past her. Ryan steps into our path. “What?” I sound very unfriendly, and that makes me wince. Ryan’s good people. “Sorry, but….” I shrug and tip my head toward Sienna.
Ryan grins. “Just wanted to congratulate you both on hooking up. And to let Jason know that he’ll get used to the Weston family insanity, and if he ever needs it, I have a great ear and a fridge full of beer.”
That’s actually helpful, and I smile gratefully at my brother-in-law. “Thanks.”
“I might take you up on that,” Jase adds, smirking.
By the time we make it into the living room, I’ve almost forgiven Sienna—though not really—and Jase is feeling more confident. Our entry prompts a wave of people standing—it’s pretty funny. Have you ever seen meerkats popping up?
“This is Jason,” I announce. “Jase, my gram, Alina, and dad, Carter. You’ve met Mom.”
“Well,” Gram declares, studying him. “Don’t I feel foolish? I didn’t realize how old you are. I should have. Dimi has talked about you.”
In other circumstances, this would have been followed by an awkward pause, but Gram counters that by stepping forward, hand outstretched. Jason takes it and is promptly pulled down for a smacking kiss on the cheek.
“I have questions about the theater industry. Mostly I’m interested in the gossip. We have good gossip around here, but I imagine it can only be better in New York.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jase says thoughtfully. “It’s pretty spectacular here.”
“We’ll talk later,” she tells him, smiling. “Welcome.”
Dad comes forward to shake Jason’s hand. “It’s good to meet you,” he says sincerely. “Dimi’s been talking about you for about fifteen years. I should have known it was more than just professional interest.”
Seriously, can my family embarrass me any more? I thought my dad, at least, was above that. He winks at me so I’ll know he’s doing it on purpose.
Jason laughs and shoots me a sidelong glance. “Mike and Brody mentioned that he’s been a fan of my work for a while. I’m completely flattered.”
“I’m sure you are,” Mom says. “Dinner’s ready.”
There’s a general flurry as everyone moves toward the dining room, but I hesitate. What was that? Mom sounded… well, less than welcoming. And since when does she call everyone in to dinner? Meals are Dad’s domain—and Gram’s, now that she lives here.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Sure enough, by the time we’re halfway through dinner, I’m genuinely ready to strangle my mother. On Christmas Day, Mom seemed to like Jason. They talked. They laughed. That’s not to say they found life-long besties in each other, but they definitely got along. Tonight? Not so much.
For one, Mom’s been decidedly uncommunicative. She’s normally quite outspoken and chatty, especially a family dinner, but tonight she’s spoken only a few times.
Dad’s been completely normal. He’s treated Jason the same way he’s treated every guy I’ve brought home since I became an adult—not that there have been that many. Remember the man drought brought on by workaholic tendencies? I think Dad’s just so relieved I’m not going to be a lonely old man á la Scrooge that he would have been glad to meet anyone I brought home, no matter who. And Gram’s been hitting Jase up for theater gossip since we sat down. I think that might actually be contributing to Mom’s attitude, because every time Gram asks Jason a question, Mom’s mouth tightens.
Does she not want anyone to include him in conversation? Does she not like him? What? I just don’t get it.
Worst of all, though, is that the few times she speaks without being spoken to first, it’s to make sly little comments intended to make Jason—and me, and everyone else at the table—uncomfortable. Like when Patrick and Cait were talking about the new version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which their kids are addicted to, and she said, pseudo-fondly, “I remember when you kids used to love watching that. Did you used to watch it too, Jason? Oh, sorry—you would have been too old for cartoons then.”
Which brings us to now. Honestly, the only fly in the ointment is Mom. Dad and Gram, as I’ve said, have been great. My sibs and their significant others have made a few cheeky or embarrassing comments, but I expected that. It’s what we do. The kids really don’t care. Jason is just another face at the table for them. So if it weren’t for Mom’s inexplicable behavior, things would be going great.
I’ve given up on trying to work her out, but plan to chase her down in private and ask her what the problem is. Jason, bless him, is still trying. I feel bad that he’s being subjected to this after I convinced him everyone would be welcoming.
“Sascha,” he begins, “I don’t know if Dimi told you, but Chloe is working for me now as my assistant. She’s amazing—I can’t imagine it was easy for you to let her go.”
Mom looks at him coolly. “I usually prefer my kids’ partners to call me Mrs. Weston.”
Ryan chokes.
Sienna drops her fork.
“Really, Mom?” I ask, dumfounded, because that is a blatant lie. Even when we were teenagers, she always let all our friends and anyone we dated call her Sascha.
Mom pastes on an innocent look and says, “What?”
Patrick glances up from where he’s trying to get his husband breathing properly again, and the expression on his face says he’s wondering if Mom’s on crack.
Leona, who was one of those teenage girlfriends and has been in the family for twenty years, clears her throat. “Does that mean I can’t call you Mom anymore?”
Mom’s expression turns stricken as she seems to realize what she’s done. “Oh—no, you and Cait are married, sweetheart. It’s different.” Then that sinks in and she turns wide eyes on Sienna’s boyfriend, who looks like he wants to sink into the floor. He hasn’t been around for that long, and he’s still getting used to us. “Uh… I guess it’s okay if everyone calls me Sascha.”
Jason stayed scrupulously silent through the whole exchange, his face that blank mask I’ve learned means he’s either seriously pissed or really hurt. It’s probably both right now. Maybe we should just leave.
Cait catches my eye and shakes her head slightly, her mouth set into a grim line. My big sister is pissed, and I’m not willing to be the one who riles her further. Cait’s a law unto herself sometimes, but you definitely want her on your side.
“You were saying that Chloe is your assistant, Jason?” she asks. “That’s great. I don’t know her very well, but whenever I see her, I’m so impressed by her energy.”
Jase relaxes a little. “She runs circles around me,” he admits. “I always considered myself to be a reasonably organized person—not like Dimi, of course,” he adds slyly, sliding me a sideways look, “but Chloe knows what I need almost before I do.”
“That’s great,” Patrick puts in, still lightly patting Ryan on the back, even though he’s mostly breathing normally, with just a hint of a wheeze. “I used to babysit for her and her brother, and she’s always been that way. Bossiest little kid I ever met—after Dimi, of course.” He smirks.
“She was like that at school, as well,” Sienna adds. She’s been quiet the last few minutes, and she’s a little pale. I think Mom shocked her. “On pretty much every committee we had.” She snorts. “Mike and Brody both have huge crushes on her.”
Jase quirks an eyebrow. “I know. It came up at Christmas.”
Pat shakes his head. “Neither of those dumbasses stand a chance with her.”
“That’s what I said.” I’m keeping an eye on Mom, just in case she decides to say something else. If she manages to behave herself, we might be able to make it through dessert.
And speaking of…. Dad gets up and begins gathering plates. “Anyone want chocolate cake?”
***
We get into the car, and I immediately turn to Jase.
“I am so, so sorry. I have no idea what got into Mom.”
He smiles a little and shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” He shrugs. “I even kind of get it. When you were born, I was already several years out of college and establishing my career. She’s your mom, and you’ll always be her baby.”
“That’s really sweet of you, but it’s still not right. I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t.” He reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh. “Let’s give her time to get used to the idea.”
I’m reluctant—avoiding issues is not my jam, aside from my mini crisis the day after Christmas—but I agree. After all, this affects him more than anyone else, so he should get a say.
But as understanding as my boyfriend is, Mom had better get used to the idea fast. I’m not prepared to allow her to treat him that way indefinitely. She doesn’t have to love him, but she does need to extend the same courtesy to him that she has to all the other partners my sibs and I bring home. Hell, one time when I was a kid, Jack brought home an evangelical Christian girl who prayed aloud before we ate, asking God to please forgive the heathens she was about to break bread with. Mom never blinked, just waited until she was done and asked if she wanted potatoes. Sure, she had a few choice words for Jack when she got him in private, but she was completely polite to the girl.
My mom is better than this. Maybe she was just having an off night. Maybe Jase is right and she just needs to get used to the idea. Next week will be better.
Except it’s not.
Not even close.
In fact, one could call it a disaster.
It starts out okay. Mom smiles and says hello when we arrive, which is an improvement on last week. I’m feeling hopeful as Dad calls us in to dinner. Cait winks at me, and I wonder if maybe she had a word with Mom.
Probably.
I love my big sister.
Then, halfway through the lasagna, the conversation turns to Ryan’s upcoming fortieth birthday. Pat’s planning a big party, which Ryan halfheartedly complains about.
“It’s not that I’m really worried about turning forty,” he says, “but it feels like such a landmark event. I mean, aren’t I supposed to have a midlife crisis or something?”
“How is having a party going to have any impact on that?” Sienna teases, and Ryan snorts.
“Don’t ask me to be logical. We middle-aged people are allowed to be unreasonable. It just feels like if we don’t celebrate it, it will slide on by with all the associated furor, including the midlife crisis.”
Pat’s laughing so hard he’s almost crying, and I can’t blame him. I guess technically with life expectancy what it is, Ryan’s not wrong about being “middle-aged,” but I have never met a person less “middle-aged” in attitude than him.
My brother finally gets himself together enough to lean over and kiss his husband. “It’s all right if you have a midlife crisis, babe. I’ll still love you.”
“As long as you don’t find a boy toy like Jason did. Although does it still count as a midlife crisis when you’re clearly past midlife?”
“Sascha!” Gram sounds horrified. The shocked silence from everyone else speaks volumes. Even the kids are quiet.
I push my chair back and get up. “We’re going, Jase.”
He stands, his face blank, not saying a word. My heart aches for him.
“Thanks for dinner, Dad.” I nudge Jason toward the door and follow him out, but we don’t say anything until we make it into the car.
“I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe she said that.” I literally can’t. That’s not my mom.
He sighs. “I want to say it’s okay, but… it’s really not. But it’s not your fault. She obviously has an issue with the age gap between us, and there’s nothing we can do about that.” He looks suddenly vulnerable. “Unless this is a deal
breaker for you?”
“No! It absolutely isn’t,” I say forcefully. “She’s going to get over this, and if she doesn’t, she’ll pretend she has and be decent to you.” No matter what I have to do to make it happen. “Jason, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, ever. That’s not going to change just because my mom’s got some kind of issue.”
His face goes all soft. “I can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”
Huh. Are we admitting to deeper feelings and a long-term commitment in a car outside my parents’ house after my mom insulted him?
I grin. “Let’s go home.” Together.
***
It’s the end of the week before I can bring myself to deal with Mom. I was just too angry right after dinner, even with Jason’s declaration and our sweet, romantic sex marathon that night. It’s been a crazy week, emotionally, because I’ve swung from being incredibly happy to so pissed off I can’t see straight and then back again more times than I want to consider.
Still, overall my life has never been this good.
Have you ever had everything go so well that you wondered if maybe you were dreaming? That’s how I feel during the last days of January. I wake up every day in a great mood and go to sleep in that same great mood—next to Jason. I have a fantastic boyfriend, my career is going gangbusters, the show fully cast, choreographed, and in rehearsals, and it looks like this going to be the Best Year Ever.
If not for Mom.
Which is why on Friday, I rearrange my schedule for the day and slip out of the office to visit Mom at work. Jase is at rehearsals, so he’ll probably never notice—he gets so incredibly focused. It’s really hot. And wow, I get it now why Trav says he has a reputation for being an asshole to work for. He’s not mean, not abusive or anything, but he gives no quarter. The performers better get it right, or they’ll keep doing it over until they do.
I stroll into Mom’s store, hearing the bell chime discreetly as the door opens. Mom spent forever trying to find the right bell—I’m not joking. It had to be loud enough that the staff could hear it if they were in the back room, but not grating. I was about ten that year, and I remember she brought home about six different bells and put them over doors throughout the house. “Whichever one has annoyed us the least but proven most effective by the end of the week is the one I’ll use,” she declared. By day three, my sibs and I mutinied and took all the bells down and buried them in the backyard. As far as I know, they’re still there.
Follow My Lead: A Joy Universe Novel Page 14
