“It’s alright, I ate on the flight from Belize,” mom says.
“How was your flight?” Cullen asks mom, looking weak but interested.
I’m glad the two are talking because a strange emotion was taking over me and it’s still got its claws sunk into my chest. To my surprise, I realize that tears had been welling in my eyes.
I blink rapidly to get a hold of myself. Cullen isn’t going to die anytime soon. He walked into the apartment on his own two feet. He’s fine.
“Mom,” I interrupt them, “Cullen needs to rest.”
“Don’t be rude, Nardi. We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
I speak flatly, “Cullen doesn’t like small talk. He’s being polite with you because you’re my mother, but this is very out of character for him. Plus, he isn’t feeling well.”
“Nardi—” Cullen gives me a disapproving look.
I ignore it. “Let’s go outside, mom.”
“But—”
“Can you help me with the soup?”
“Well, it’s just boiling water?—”
“Please, mom?” I ask.
My mother sighs. “She’s always been fussy, Cullen. I don’t know how you put up with her.”
“That’s what I like most about her,” Cullen says, his eyes glistening.
I sigh heavily and open the door. Mom walks out first and I follow her.
“He seems nice,” mom says on the way to the kitchen. She bumps my shoulder with her elbow. “A little pale and sickly-looking, but that’s trending these days. And why do I feel like I’ve seen him before?”
I don’t respond. Heaviness settles on my shoulders.
“Are you alright, dear? What happened to your wrist?”
“It’s nothing.”
“If you say so.” Mom purses her lips. “Are you angry? You’re not offended that I called your boyfriend sickly-looking, are you? I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s tall and I think he’s got a nice, interesting face. Although I’d recommend another barber for hishair. But besides that, he has a very nice bone structure. And I like his eyes as well. They’re not blue exactly. They’re?—”
“Silver,” I mumble, grabbing a pan and a can of chicken soup. “Like moonlight.”
“Yeah. At first glance, you wouldn’t think he’s attractive, but the more you look at his face, the more his features arrest your attention. Ronan, he said his name was?”
I nod distractedly and stir the soup.
“Then why did you call him Cullen?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always called him by his last name.”
Mom sidles closer to me. In a conspiratorial whisper, she says, “He’s not involved in a gang, is he?”
The spoon nearly drops out of my hand and into the soup. “A gang? You think Cullen looks like the type who’d be in a gang?”
“I saw this strange mark on his chest.” Mom gestures to the area where Cullen was scarred from his surgery. “Only a peep. His shirt was covering most of it. But it looked really bad. Like he got stabbed.”
My smile is brittle. “Cullen is a cancer survivor, mom.”