Page 207 of Untouchable

"You look good. You know I always like it when you let your hair grow in. Are those uniforms new?"

“Thank you,” he mumbles down at his menu, curling over it like he’s a cornered animal trying to protect his most vulnerable parts. “No—it’s the same, I mean, this is a newer pair of scrubs, but up—”

His phone is laying in his lap, and he flips it over, where it’s displaying a new text from Harp.

>>HARP: I can come get you or whatever you need

>>HARP: You can do this. You’re an adult. Let her be mad. She doesn’t control your life. I’ve got your back, whatever happens.

He takes a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. He knows this tactic. She’ll pretend everything is fine, and he’ll have to be the one to bring it up.

“Mom, I’m not coming home for Christmas,” he says. “I know you expected me to, but I have other plans.”

"You don't even want to order before we talk about this?" she asks with a satisfied smile on her face.

He sighs,glancing down at his phone again. Let her be mad.

And strangely, something inside him shifts. He feels something unlock, a reservoir of strength he never knew he had. And maybe, he realizes, he didn’t have it before. Maybe it is only there because of Harp.

Because now, he thinks, he wants to make Harp proud. He wants to be able to tell Harp, when he picks Parker up, that he stood up for himself. That he didn’t let his mother badger and berate and humiliate him as usual.

"So, the floor is yours if it's what you want to talk about," she says, not yet looking up from her menu. "Do you want to tell me the meaning of this whole Christmas plan?"

“It’s—it’s not a plan,” Parker says, gripping the edge of his chair as if that will help him resist being swept into her bullshit. Not everything is about plans and revenge and being one step ahead of someone else, he thinks. “I’m spending the holiday with—with Harp.”

"Right, well, I guess that's the heart of the matter. Tell me about Harp."

Anywhere else, the sentence “tell me about Harp” would make Parker’s heart sing. Mindy has been all too patient, listening to him wax poetic on and on and on about how much he likes Harp, how well Harp treats him, how much he likes this and that and this about Harp, shoehorning things Harp has said and done into conversations just for an excuse to talk about him. But his mother’s voice is venomous, and he knows she’s on the hunt for ammunition. He’s not going to give her any, if he can help it.

“We’ve been dating for about two months,” Parker tells his menu.

"How old is he, Parker?"

“Does it matter?” The words snap out of him, and he regrets them instantly. This kind of attitude, as his parents would call it, is a one way ticket to misery.

"Yes, it does," she says, looking hurt. "I'm worried about you, Parker. I don't understand this."

“He—he’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. And he’s generous and thoughtful and—there’s no reason to be worried.”

"You're dating a client who is old enough to be your father, suddenly you don't want to come to Christmas with your family—which has always been your favorite—and then you start avoiding contact with us," she says dramatically, as if they'd all been texting him incessantly with worry. "I just don't understand why all of this is necessary."

Parker presseshis hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. His cheeks are burning hot, and he hasn’t looked up from his menu or his lap the whole time they’ve been sitting here.

“It’s not—I’m not—this isn’t about—”

“Are you two ready to order?”

Parker’s head snaps up and he sees a waiter smiling toothily at them.

Without missing a beat, Parker's mother orders a Caesar salad with shrimp and dressing on the side with an odd sidebar about how she's allergic to croutons, which he knows isn't true.

“Can I get the Southwest wrap?” Parker says. The waiter smiles—even wider somehow—and vanishes as quickly as he’d appeared.

He stares down at the tablecloth, wondering if maybe his mother will drop the topic.

But, of course, he’s not that lucky.

"So?" she continues. "I'm just wondering what you're trying to say with all this, Parker. I really don't understand what we've done—especially after offering to help with your car incident."

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