Page 15 of Dark Love

“I have friends.” Sort of.

“People you talk to on the computer don’t count. You don’t go out to the movies with them or out to dinner. You need to make some real friends. People that you actually see outside a computer screen.”

“We meet in person.” We see each other once a year in person, but we meet up virtually often.

“Dahlia Prudence.”

“I’m trying to make friends. I really am. I went out to get drinks with some of the girls from work last Friday night after shift.”

“Drinks.” Mom’s teacup clinks onto the counter. She never calls me without a cup of tea in hand.

Maybe I should make one. Just to test out the cookies with… except I don’t have milk.

“That sounds promising. Did you meet any nice men while you were out getting drinks?”

Vex doesn’t really count as a ‘nice’ man. “No, Mom.”

“Well, next time you go, suggest going to a nicer bar. Something closer to the business district.”

“Mom.” I peel the wax paper off my softened butter and plop it in the bowl.

“What, you need a man with a good job. Men become very insecure if a woman makes more money than they do. You need a stable, well-off man.”

“Mom.”

“Don’t you even give me that women’s empowerment garbage. You have a job. You have your own money. Your own life. You need a man that’s just as secure in his life as you are in yours.”

“Mom, I don’t need a man.”

“Of course, you don’t ‘need’ one, but don’t you want one, eventually?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Mom.” I crack the egg with a little more force than normal, and it crumbles in my hand and the cup.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll let it go for now. Tell me all about this work of yours. You know a good way to make friends is to bring some treats to work. Have you brought them some brownies yet?”

Oh, she’s expecting me to pull out the big guns this early. “No brownies yet. But I am making cookies.”

“Cookies.”

Now I did it. I blabbed too much.

“Why are you making thank you cookies?”

“You know people make cookies for reasons other than to say thank you.”

“I know that.”

I can practically see her swatting away my explanation.

“But why are you making thank you cookies?”

She knows me too well.

“What type?”

---