“That’s worrisome,” I mutter.
“Not as worrisome as you hiding yourhandsomestfriends from me.” She stops halfway across the foyer and turns. “Do you have a special someone in your life, Austin? Someone like you has to have a lovely lady back home.”
After a brief glance my way, Austin shakes his head no at her. “No special lady in my life, no, ma’am.”
“Cissy, I said,” she corrects him with a laugh, then sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pretend to be Nadine, sticking my nose in every young man’s love life. We literally just met. Besides, being single is just as healthy and productive. Turns out, you get a lot done with your day when you aren’t chasing your husband across towns.”
“We were just headed up to my room,” I tell her, desperate to get out from underneath this increasingly awkward conversation.
“Oh, but I was just about to make some lunch for myself. Why don’t you boys join me? Seeing as you’re not occupying yourself with Billy at T&S’s and rather with someoneelsefor a change. It’s averylovely change,” she adds with another cringe-worthy eyelash-batting glance at Austin. Kill me now.
And the second I try to come up with a lie, like we already ate, or we’re not hungry, or Austin is allergic to surprise-attack lunch offerings from mothers he literally just met, he leaps in with: “Oh, now that sounds amazing, Cissy. Gotta admit, kinda worked myself up an appetite,” he adds with a suggestive glance at me.
I blush.
And die.
The end.
I try with all my might, but Austin is determined to be in the kitchen with my mom when she starts fixing her fancy spread of sandwiches, vegetables, and whatever other matters of Tasty Hell she wants to serve. Dad won’t be back until the evening, according to a text that dings halfway through my mom cutting up veggies, which is likely for the best as my hands are full enough fielding Mom. She keeps losing things in her own kitchen, so frazzled with my “handsome friend”, that she asks things like, “Where’d I put the—?” Then Austin sweeps in like a hero with the peppershaker. She eyes him, impressed. I stand uselessly nearby, unless someone desires their sandwich seasoned with my anxiety sweat. “I always put a secret spattering of Kingston Spread on one side, and it always kills,” she tells Austin, like he or I or anyone has any idea what the hell that is, but he just smiles, licks off the knife when she’s finished with it, and says, “Consider me killed,” which inspiresa chirp of merry, uncharacteristic laughter from my mom before he helpfully finds a home for the knife in the dishwasher.
“So where are you from?” asks my mom when the three of us are seated at the brunch table by the back window, which is a strategic move, as it shows off her favorite part of the garden. She sits at the head, with Austin and I across from each other.
“North Texas,” he answers, “Dallas area. But my family’s been around here and there, never settlin’ in one place for too long.”
“Really now?” She gazes at me in wonder. “He’s not too far from your school. Is that where you two met?”
“Nope,” I answer right when Austin says, “Actually …” Then the both of us look at each other across the table. He smiles gently my way and says, “We met at a concert by his campus, actually.”
“A concert?” My mom appears mystified by that notion, eyes turning to me yet again. “Since when have you been into music?”
“Since me,” answers Austin on my behalf, sounding somewhat cocky about it, if I’m being honest. “Your son has a lot of passion in him. Did you know he likes drawing?”
“Don’t I ever,” confirms my mom just as I’m about to cut in, her answer surprising me. “I have a box full of his cute doodles I keep in a cabinet in my bedroom. It’s one of my dearest treasures, ever since his elementary school days.”
I nearly choke. “Y-You do?”
“He has many hidden talents,” says Austin, smiling at me with that twinkling charm in his eyes. I look down at my plate and the single bite I’ve taken of my sandwich. “He’s considerate. Giving … patient. He keeps me inspired. And I assure you, thatain’tan easy task.” He glances at my mom and taps his head. “Short attention span. My brain’s all over the place. TJ keeps me balanced. Focused. I think it’s why I click so well with him.”
After a moment, my mom tilts her head, squinting at him over her plate. “You’re very easy to like, Austin.”
He smiles back at her, touched. “I appreciate that, Cissy.”
Next thing I know, I’m chomping down on the sandwich like it is the only object of importance in the world. I can’t seem to settle the nerves crawling up and down my body with every word they exchange. The more pleasant, lovely, and perfect it seems to go, the tighter I’m wound up. I can’t explain it.
“Sounds like a whole lotta movin’ parts to keep your eyes on,” admires Austin after my mom says something about the business.
“Oh, it is, it is.” My mom’s barely touched her sandwich with as much as she’s talking. “TJ’s been around it his whole life. It’ll be second nature for him to jump right in when he graduates.”
And there it is. Again, the nail driving into my future’s coffin, a nail my mom loves to pry out and drive back in over and over.
I glance over the table at Austin.
He’s well-aware of my desire tonotinherit the burden of our family business. Somehow, that makes remarks like that from my mom easier to handle. I don’t feel nearly as alone with it.
After smiling at me, he faces my mom. “Y’know what I think? TJ’s such a smarty pants, he could waltz right out of that school and into any career on the planet and make it look easy.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she says, though I don’t suspect she’s hearing quite what she’s agreeing with, making her words seem a touch empty to me. She giggles at a thought and peers over at me with a shake of her head. “Where’d your brilliance come from? I can’t take the credit. I was justawfulin algebra. Three tutors and Istillflunked and had to finish in summer school. Have you seen TJ solve math equations? He’s a genius! Absolute genius!”