Page 42 of Angel

“A friend?”

I do glance at her this time. Why does she sound so suspicious? Like chatting with a friend is a weird thing for me to do. I have plenty of friends. Look at all the guys I grew up with.

“Mario?”

Oh no, she wants to know which friend? What should I say? I can’t lie to save my life. “Uh, no.”

Her eyes narrow even more, and I swear she’s trying to see inside my brain. “Nico?”

My ears go hot. Shoot. Crap. Don’t blush, dang it! “Uh, no?” My voice goes up at the end, like I’m asking a question. Ugh.

“No? You’re not sure if it’s Nico?”

“No, it’s not Nico.”

She studies me for another long, tense moment before her eyes widen. Reaching for the lever on her chair, her voice is tinged with excitement as she asks, “Is it a girl?”

“What?” Why would she think it’s a girl?

Mama shifts forward in the arm chair. “A girl, Angel. Are you seeing someone finally? Are you dating?”

I push myself upright and scoot a few extra inches away from Mama. “No, I’m not dating anyone, Mama. When would I have the time to do that?”

She grows suspicious again. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Glued to your phone all the time with that dopey grin on your face.”

My pulse skyrockets as my hand flies to my cheek, as if the grin is a speck of food that accidentally got caught in my beard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mama shakes her finger at me. “Don’t give me that, Angel-boy. I know you better than you know yourself.”

I sputter, ears heating and palms growing clammy. “What— I don’t— I’m not?—”

“Angel,” Mama says, voice admonishing. “You’re such a good boy. Handsome and strong. Kind and gentle. I want to see you settled down with a sweet girl. I want some grandchildren before I die.”

“You already have a grandchild,” I mutter, pointing toward the bedrooms where Jonah’s already asleep.

Mama tsks at me. “More grandchildren. Your grandchildren. You’d make such a good papa. Nothing like your father.”

My stomach churns with a sickly, sour feeling. Mama doesn’t bring up this topic often, but when she does, it always leaves me feeling a little panicked. Like there’s a clock ticking somewhere, counting down the days and hours before I run out of time.

Like there’s a universal deadline for getting married and having kids. Except I haven’t been told when that deadline is, or how long it takes to do all the things I need to do before it arrives. I keep waiting for someone to let me in on the secret, but then Mama says things like “I want to hold your grandchildren”, and I wonder if I’ve missed the announcement somehow.

Everyone else makes it look so easy. They meet girls all over the place. They know how to act and what to say, and the next thing I know, they’ve got girlfriends who turn into wives.

I don’t know how they do it. Is there some kind of manual I don’t know about?

I hardly ever meet girls I don’t already know. Either they’re related to me or they’re already dating one of my friends. There are a few I grew up with, but they feel more like sisters to me than potential girlfriends.

The few times I’ve met someone who I think I could like, they never like me back. They think I’m nice, and maybe they’ll hang out with me a few times, but no one ever wants to take things further.

The only girlfriend I’ve ever had was Claudia in high school. But that was mostly because every other football player and cheerleader had already paired up, and we were the only two left. She was kind and we got along okay. We went to parties together, hung out after school together, went to prom together.

But after we graduated, she moved away for college, and we ended things as friends. I haven’t spoken to Claudia in years. I think she’s married now.

“You should bring her to Sunday dinner.” Mama pushes herself slowly to her feet.

“Sun-Sunday dinner?” I stammer.

Mama waves a hand toward my phone. “The girl you’re dating. Bring her to Sunday dinner so I can meet her.”

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