Page 70 of Sleep

I shrugged. “I’m the last person anyone would think was straight. You, on the other hand? You’re like an iron rod. Unbreakable. A woman with a presence I admire.”

“Don’t flatter me, and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m attracted to men, yes. Very much so,” I said before she put her fangs into me again.

“And you met my son because you served him dinner.”

I had to laugh. Yes. True. I nodded.

“But now you don’t have a job, and my son wants you to move in with him. I have obvious concerns because that whole scenario spells out like a badly written romance novel.”

“Fully valid concerns, I agree. I have many concerns about the scenario myself.”

“Good. So persuade me to change my perception of you as a gold digger and tramp. Tell me why I should be wining and dining a human being with no assets at my favourite private club.”

“It is an incredible club. I am very honoured to be here.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Mabel. What do you want from my son?”

Harsh, but a fair question.

“I like him. We connected over me trying to get him fed in the evenings, and we formed a friendship, one based on mutual attraction, even though I was unsure about his motives at first. Jonny is very sharp. He can be hard to read.”

“Go on.”

I liked his mother. I really did. It didn’t make her any less terrifying.

“He is…” I was seriously trying to say the right words, but any attempt at being less than truthful would land me in even deeper water with Mrs Templar. “I’m not an easy person to get to know,” I admitted. “Someone like me is… Well, I’m that person. The one who walks around like I have a giant tattoo on my forehead that invites people to judge, ask unsolicited questions. Am I a man? A woman? An…it? The questions are always there, they don’t even have to be voiced out loud, which makes me incredibly guarded, and also…lonely. I gave up on finding a partner many years ago, and not just because I couldn’t deal with myself, but also because I made excuses. I made myself believe that there were other options, thought if I just waited—”

“Please,” Mrs Templar interrupted. “No excuses. We’re all lonely. We all make choices. And we all have to just be who we are. Do you think I came to this country to be a poor Latvian girl with no future? No. I came here because I needed to succeed. I had this fire in my belly to do better. To win. At everything. Do I look like I didn’t win?”

“You won,” I agreed.

“So stop with the pity party. You are someone who doesn’t identify as a single gender. Perfectly normal. Do you think I competed in women’s athletics with a bow in my hair? No. I grew a dick. Some giant balls. And I played with men who were just as hardball as I was. Don’t give excuses. I can’t bear it. Not all of us are cut out to play. But those of us who do? We conform. We grow. And when needed, we show our claws. So show me your claws, Mabel. My son. What is your plan here?”

God. Help me.

Clearly, he heard me, as Carlos arrived with an elaborately garnished plate and served it to me with a full narrative—something I’d done myself plenty of times—but I didn’t take in a single word, and Carlos was gone again far too soon.

“Eat,” Mrs Templar instructed. “But keep talking. I don’t have all day.”

“Well…” I picked up a fork and poked it into one of the things on my plate. “I have no job. I don’t have a place to live. But I have plenty of qualifications and skills, very supportive parents and an iron rod for a spine.” I daintily shoved the food in my mouth. That was all I could muster.

“Very good.” Mrs Templar still hadn’t picked up her fork. She just sat there, her ice-blue eyes staring into my soul. Now I knew who Jonny got that move from.

“Your son is a complicated man with a lot of issues,” I said.

“Men often are.”

“But we work well together. We talk and laugh, and he calls me silly names and makes me feel good about myself. In return, I keep his fridge stocked and make him eat better meals—”

“Basics.”

“And try to get him to sleep better.”

“He never slept as a child.” Finally, she picked up her fork, waving it at me as she added, “Almost killed me.”

I grimaced in sympathy. “He does need to work on…quieting his mind in the evening.” And controlling the panic and anxiety. I didn’t mention that last bit because, again, it wasn’t my place to out him to his mother.

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