Page 27 of David's Proposal

The two seem cordial while she’s pointing to the entrance. He walks that way, leaves the box by the door, turns around, tilts his chin down as if saying goodbye, and off he goes.

He slides into the driver’s seat and leaves.

My mother seems just as baffled as I am.

Fuck. Thatwasmy driver.

He moves away before exiting the neighborhood while my mother goes back to the house––I know her so well––andensures the bag of groceries and box sit neatly next to each other, and are not visible from the road.

She snaps up and brings her phone to her ear when my phone vibrates.

I ponder whether to take her call.

I choose not to.

She’s texting while claiming her seat behind the steering wheel, and the car lights shine brightly as she rolls her ride away.

Her message arrives.

Terry: I left your food by the door.

Good mother.

Bad daughter.

Terry: And someone else delivered a package. Some books and stuff. The guy was nice and polite.

The guy?

Books and stuff?

Who was that guy, after all?

And was that a mistake?

Did he leave the wrong package at my door?

The voice in my head starkly disagrees, and I can’t blame her. My gut tells me the same thing.

The guy who was also my driver brought me a present––the box my mom is talking about.

I guess David had a plan B in case I wasn’t home.

This is what I get for playing it hard to get and not getting back to him to confirm our meetup. Keeping it a secret and making him guess.

Well… He guessed all right.

He guessed I might have different plans for tonight, so he sent a gift. Or whatever else is in that box.

It may not only be books.

Or maybe it was ‘books’ because he had to lie to my mother.

I’m sure she told him who she was. That’s why he was so friendly and behaved so nicely, and she was so charmed by him.

By all means, Mom, let’s invite these people over to our house for dinner.

David Moore and his chauffeur––I couldn’t even tell if it was the same man I saw in the coffee shop the day I met David.

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