Page 92 of Follow Your Bliss

I shuffled a few minutes more, focusing on my question, then I chose a card and laid it face down on the table. The golden goddess on the back of the card gazed encouragingly at me.

But I couldn’t bring myself to turn it over.

The door opened behind me on the side wall. “Jason?”

I snapped my head toward Mrs. Betty’s voice. She was three steps in, and my heart banged against my rib cage. I froze. She was about to catch me in my panties in her son’s house. It was bad enough I wasn’t wearing a bra.

But it was too late to hide. I couldn’t reach the throw on the chair without getting up, and it would look suspicious to be wrapped in a blanket with it being ninety-seven degrees outside, anyway.

She breathed in and waved the air, coughing. “What’s that smell?” She sat her purse down at the pew by the door and called for Jason again.

I had to admit I was sitting here before she turned and saw me and wondered why I was being rude. “Hi Mrs. Betty,” I called out, waving but not getting up. I grabbed my phone and texted Jason.

Mrs. Betty turned toward me then walked forward quickly, a frown on her face as her eyes darted around from me to my tarot cards, to the smoking bundle of mugwort in the abalone shell on the side table. I got up from being cross-legged to kneel on the floor, guiltily pulling down at the hem of my tank top to cover my panties, but that only made it more obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Why are you sitting in my son’s living room half-naked?”

All the blood left my face. She was an archangel down from heaven to condemn me.

“Have you been smoking weed?” Her gaze fell to the coffee table, to my box of clearly marked tarot cards. “Why are theretarot cardsin my son’schurch?” Her voice went up an octave.

“Mrs. Betty, I can explain—”

“You don’t have to explain anything. My son does. He should never have rented a room to a godless Guidry girl—” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

“A godless Guidry girl?” I echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jason burst through the front doors. He jogged up, his wide eyes looking in between us.

“Jason Colin Soniat, I came by to see how things were coming here with the repairs,” Mrs. Betty said. “And you told me that this girl was living in that spare room after the tree fell in her bedroom, but she’s sitting here with hardly any clothes on. Where is Rose living, Jason? Tell me the truth.”

He took a big breath, his hand to his cheek. “You’re right, Ma, and I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. Rose is living with me. We’re together. Rose is my girlfriend.”

Mrs. Soniat went quiet. Fuming. I was sixteen again, caught by my high school boyfriend’s mom making out in his bedroom. Except I wasn’t. I was a grown woman, and this situation was ridiculous.

“So you moved in, seduced him—”

I stood up. “I didn’t seduce him. We’re—”

“Can youpleaseput some pants on?” She covered her eyes and turned away.

Jason gestured at me like,woman put some clothes on. I grabbed the throw and wrapped it around my hips like a sarong.

“Jason, my heart is broken. I can’t believe you kept this from me, after everything that’s happened.”

“Ma, it’s not like that.”

“And did she talk you into doing these drugs?”

“It’s not drugs,” I asserted. “It’s mugwort, and we weren’t smoking it. It’s to clear the space.”

She turned on me. “Is that some kind of pagan ritual? And to bringtarot cardsinto my son’s home—” she broke off, her throat catching. Jason reached for her, but she waved him away from her. His face fell.

“Are you two serious about each other?” she demanded.

“Yes,” I blurted, then turned at Jason’s silence.

His mouth was wide. He stared at his mom, then turned to me. “I…”

---