Page 143 of Reel Love

“Mom, you’d better sit down.”

“Why? Stevens? What is going on?”

“Just sit. Trust me. I think sitting is better for this next bit of news.”

“Okaaayyy.” She clears another spot on the table.

“Gwendolyn. Well, you see … she did leave to take a crack at show business. And it went pretty well for her, I’d say.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful.”

“It is. Mostly. Anyway, she had to change her name for reasons in the business. And her name … well, she was sitting behind us in Harry’s paint class.”

“Oh, Stevens. After that weekend I thought about it, and I’m almost positive the woman behind us was …”

Mom’s eyes go wide as saucers. Her mouth pops open. Her face passes through a series of expressions as the reality of what I’m not saying settles deeper into her awareness.

“She’s Alana Graves? You are datingAlana Graves? Are you sure? Alana Graves? Do you know what you’re saying here? This is Alana Graves. She’s Alana Graves. Was it my words at paint class? Did she seek you out after that? Oh! Stevens! Alana Graves! Wait. She’s cominghere? For dinner? I have to clean. And cook. And … oh, my. Alana Graves is coming for dinner!”

I sit back, crossing my arms, waiting for this wave of shock to wash over like a squall at sea.

“Alana Graves,” Mom mutters with a tone of awe in her voice.

I’m pretty sure she is trying to break the world record for saying Alana’s name the most times in one minute.

“Alana Graves. Of all the things. My son is dating Alana Graves.” Mom looks at me. “I’ll act so normal. Don’t worry. I’ll be like the poster child for normal moms. I’ll even hide her movies. Should I? Or would she like to see them out? What do you think?”

I smile at my mom. She’s coming down slowly. A few more minutes and she’ll be able to hold a conversation.

“Alana Graves. Stevens. What in the world? Here I thought you were going to be married to the sea like that old man in that famous poem. And you’re dating Alana Graves.TheAlana Graves.”

She looks at me, smiling wide.

When she’s quiet for about fifteen seconds straight, I finally take my shot at telling her everything else.

“She’s not Alana Graves to me, Mom. She’s just Alana. And I think I’m falling for her—not the movie star, the woman. She’s bright and witty. She has a dry sense of humor and she’s very protective of me. It’s sweet.”

“Protective? Why would she need to be protective?”

I fill my mom in on all the mess with the media. Then I backtrack and explain how I substituted as Alana’s water taxi driver and how we set up our first date. I tell her Alana loves Mitzi’s tacos. When I finish, we’ve been sitting at the table for nearly an hour.

“Well, she doesn’t need to protect you, Stevens. You’re strong enough to face anything. She’ll see.”

“I hope she will. It may come your way too, you know. Sometimes the media spreads their claws far and wide. They may come snooping through my life to discover all they can about me.”

“You think you love her?” My mom skips over everything I just said about the press possibly prying into her life and hones in on the most intriguing fact to her—my feelings for this amazing woman.

“I think I might.”

“Oh, son. I’m so happy for you. And for her. Do you think she loves you too?”

“I don’t know. She definitely cares about me.”

“Alana Graves.”

One more time for the people in the back.

“Mom. You have to do me a favor.”

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