Page 98 of Obey

Mom pulls out the seat across from Talia, and Dad sits down next to Mom. She shoves Dad. “Don’t listen to Earl. I don’t havethatmany questions. Just a few. Dozen. And if you’d like for us to leave so we can meet up for dinner as planned, that works too.”

Mom’s words say one thing, but the hope in her eyes says something else entirely. Thankfully, Talia speaks ‘Mom’, and she seems happy enough to let them stay. I’ll pull her aside in a while, but for now, I let them have their time with her, watching and listening from the counter as I make drinks for everyone.

I’m handing Dad’s coffee to him when Mom says, “So, tell me how you feel about marriage.” She’s leaning so far forward on her chair she’s practically in Talia’s face.

“Well, Mrs. Coleman.”

“Mariam,” Mom supplies.

“Mariam,” Talia concedes. “Well, Mariam. I think conversations about marriage shouldn’t happen within the first month of a relationship. Especially when one party lost his beloved wife, and the other party has gotten out of an arranged engagement to a toxic butthead.”

Mom sits back in her chair, her eyes flexing at this new titbit of information. She nods. “You’re right. Definitely none of my business but I can’t deny you’ve now piqued my curiosity with that salacious detail. We’ll wait until we get to know each other better. Favorite color?”

Talia points to her hair, and her eyes. “Blue. You?”

“Green.” Mom and Dad answer together, it’s cute he remembers those details about her.

“Would you rather be able to talk with animals or with plants?” Talia levels Mom with an intense stare.

“Animals. We have the bitchiest cat ever to walk the earth, I’d love to know what she’s saying when she meows at us.”

Talia nods like it makes total sense.

“Favorite food?” Mom volleys back.

“All of it.” Talia pauses, sighs at Mom’s arched eyebrow, and then purses her lips. “Chili. It’s so versatile. Over rice, in a baked potato, on tortilla chips to make nachos...” She licks her lips. “Now I want chili.”

Dad nods. “Me too.”

“Would you rather have to keep a terrible haircut for a month or let your mother dress you for a month?”

Mom laughs. “Haircut. I can hide it under a hat.”

Talia giggles. The barrage of getting to know you and would you rather questions continue between my girlfriend and my parents, we order chili from a local cafe for lunch—over fries, on a potato, and over tortilla chips, and by the afternoon Talia’s napping in my arms on the couch while Mom knits her a scarf on the loveseat next to Dad.

If you’d told me a couple weeks ago I’d be sitting here right now, I’d have laughed in your face. I had no intention of letting my defenses down even a little. I wasn’t so much as considering giving my heart to another woman in my lifetime. I was done.

I’d loved, I’d lost, and I’d built myself a fortress around my chest so I couldn’t feel anything ever again.

But staring down at the force of nature lying in my arms, I can’t help but think this one might be worth feeling for.

EPILOGUE

Talia

(Six months later)

It turns out, the local Stitch and Bitch meets twice a week. Once at the hotel where Jagger and I met them, and the other at the Sugar Bean cafe. Mama and I walk in, arms laden with a bunch of supplies I’ll probably never use because Mama seems to have taken all the yarn skills in the family, and the whole group stops to assess us.

Betty, Gertie, and Philomena are sitting side by side, they pause, place their projects in their lap and raise their eyebrows together, like a synchronized event. If they were in the Olympics, they’d get full points.

“Talia! How did you find us? You’re not one of those stalker kinds, are you?” Betty purses her lips as though she’s really giving it consideration.

“Betty, if you don’t want to be stalked, you probably shouldn’t hang fliers up with the exact location and time of your meetings.”

She approaches me with her arms outstretched. “I suppose you have a point. Did you figure your shit out?” She eyes Mamalike she knows there was something hinky going on, but doesn’t say anything.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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