Mom
You know I will get it out of you one way or another.
She has all four of us, and when my father was well, and my dad, wrapped around her little pinky finger. Strong and determined, yet soft and loving, my mother is an incredible woman who always gets her own way.
Yet another text appears.
Mom
This is the first Saturday you haven’t been to see me in months. This is good for you, Eli. I know you think I don’t see you struggling, but I do. I know your father’s illness has been hard on us all, especially you, and I’m here for you, all of you. Enjoy yourself today. I love you x
My mother is also observant. On more than one occasion, she’s expressed her concern, noticing my need for order and my tendency to stick to strict routines.
Me
Love you, Mom x
I don’t tell her I’m fine or not struggling because that would be a lie.
“Miss me?” Sapphire returns with our order much quicker than expected, and I set my cell phone down, lining it up with the edge of the table.
I wish I understood why my brain pushes me to do that. My therapist diagnosed me with a subtype of OCD called just-right OCD, which makes me want to arrange objects out of place. It might seem irrational, but I fear that something bad will happen if things aren’t perfectly orderly. It’s impacting every part of my life, and I hate it. Especially when it comes to work. It’s not the content of the documents I’m writing, it’s the margins, and the formatting that drives me nutty. It sometimes takes me hours to fix it all and it’s no wonder the merger I am working on has taken so long. My productivity is shot to pieces.
I stop touching my cell phone, the feeling of incompleteness has disappeared, it’s now just right, as it should be. “No need for a search party then?” I ask as she places the tray down and sits opposite me.
“Luckily for you, there’s no need to put out a missing persons alert today.” She places the mug on the table and slides it toward me. “I hope you love muffins as much as donuts. I got you a lemon and poppy seed one.”
It looks great. “Thank you. Anyone would think you’re trying to sweeten me up with baked goods.”
“Maybe I am.”
I enjoy the way she toys with me; her easygoing nature makes me feel calm. A rare place I thought was long gone for me.
“What is that?” I point to a luminous green drink that looks like someone liquidized Kermit the Frog.
“Iced matcha latte. It’s delicious. Wanna try?”
“Mm,” I hum, shooting the drink a skeptical look.
“It’s good for you. Better than that coffee you’re drinking. Matcha helps reduce stress and anxiety, and you don’t get the jitters like you do from caffeine.”
I’m still not convinced, and I can tell she senses my hesitation.
“It’s rich in antioxidants and is known to improve focus and enhance calm.” She does her best to convince me otherwise, sliding the glass mug in my direction. “You know you want to.” She’s such a tease.
“I’m good, but thank you.” I don’t like trying new things.
“You’re missing out.”
“Maybe next time.”
I’m mesmerized as she bites her lower lip, making me want to nibble on it too, to taste her glossy lips and see if they’re as soft as they appear.
“So, should we have coffee again sometime?” Her expectant voice is as sweet as sugar, laced with something that sounds like hope.
Is that what she wants? I didn’t think she liked me at all. But she did agree to a coffee, so that’s something; I’ll hold on to that for now.
Straight-faced, I reply, “Well, we are going to be working together.” As much as I want to talk to her via email, there’s a huge part of me that would prefer to see her every day. I like not knowing what she’s going to do or say next. It might seem strange, but I now actually look forward to whatever comes out of her mouth; it always sparks something unexpected in me and never fails to make me pause and reflect.