Page 28 of Complete Me

“Oh, Xander, there’s never enough chastisement. Especially when you abandon your parents.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, fine. How are you, dear? Have you heard anything about your application?”

Inwardly, I groan. “I’m fine. And no, not yet. Applications go to the provost this Friday, and then she’ll review them, and we’ll know something in late May or early June.” It’s not like I haven’t explained this to my parents at least a trillion times. When I submitted my application, I gave them the timeline and stressed it would be at the end of the spring term before I’d know anything. It’s been a long six months.

“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice would be sweet and comical if we hadn’t had this same conversation almost every time I call.

“Enough about me.” Not something I normally say, but I need to get this conversation on a different track. “How are you and Dad? What have you been up to?”

My mother easily slides into a monologue that includes the changes to the menu at the club, her latest purchases at Bergdorf, and how traffic is so bad in the city that it’s not even worth going out anymore. This is a lie. Her social life would put some celebrities to shame. She’s always shopping, dining, or attending another charity gala. Just listening to it is exhausting.

“And Enid had no patience for that kind of ridiculousness and took her business elsewhere.”

It’s at this point she winds down, and I assume it’s my turn to contribute more than supportive “oh”s or “of course”s. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been very busy, as usual.”

“Your father thinks we should slow down. I told him that’s what old people do. We’re not old. We’re only in our sixties.”

Intellectually, I know this. But having her toss that out there, randomly, is a rude awakening that makes the child in me balk. My parents are getting older. I’m getting older. And I don’t like it. “You’ll both be around forever. Who will take care of me and fuss over me if you aren’t?”

“Speaking of which—” Oh hell. Leave it to me to open that door and wave my mother through it. “Are you seeing anyone?” I open my mouth to say no, but pause. I’m not actually sure what the answer is. She takes my silence for affirmation and inhales audibly. “You are! Who is he?”

“Mom.”

“No, no waffling. You paused, and that means there’s someone. As your mother, the woman who labored for almost a full day before you deigned to make an appearance, I insist you tell me.”

I rub my eyes and slouch in my chair. “Seriously, Mom. There isn’t any one.” I do make a slight pause between any and one. Since I find myself attracted to both Kaino and Bjorn, I’m not technically lying.

“Alexander Johannes Neilsen, do not lie to your mother.”

“I’m not!” There’s an excruciatingly long pause where neither one of us speaks, and then I cave. “Fine. In point of fact, I’m not dating anyone. But there are two people I’m interested in. And quite honestly, I have no idea what to do with that.”

There’s another, shorter pause this time before my mother speaks. “So you have two men you’re interested in, and you’re not dating either of them?”

“Two people. One of them is Bjorn Osouf. You remember I dated him a few years ago, but schedules didn’t mesh.”

“Oh!” There’s genuine excitement in her voice. My mother, like every other person on the planet, looooooves Bjorn. “Bjorn is such a sweet man. And so handsome.”

That he is, Mom. That. He. Is. “And the other person is named Kaino. They’re an ASL interpreter, and we actually met through Bjorn, but they interpret for a student at the university, and we’ve had several coffees together between classes.”

“They?” The confusion in her voice makes my temple throb. I don’t want to explain pronouns to my mom. “You mean they’re non-binary?”

Shock has me sitting bolt upright in my chair. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“You can remove the surprise from your tone, Xander. I may be of a certain generation, but that doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant or obtuse. The New York Metro area has the highest concentration of LGBTQ adults in the US. At least according to a UCLA study.” Who is this woman, and what has she done with my mother? “Don’t move to Tulsa, Oklahoma, dear. You’ll never find anyone there.”

I’m about to ask her why she thinks I’m moving at all when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and grin when Kaino’s name appears. I don’t hesitate to swipe open the message.

Kaino: Would you like to have dinner with me?

I re-read the text. Are they asking me out on a date? Or is this friends having dinner?

Me: I’d love to. When?

Kaino: Friday? I was thinking Mediterranean food.

Me: Friday is perfect. And I love Med food

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