The way Miriam and Barbara stare at me, their eyes unblinking and their grins wide, I know where this is headed.
Sweat beads at the back of my neck. This isn’t the first time I’ve visited a male friend’s family and had them allude to there being something more between us. It’s always a delicate balance. I can’t go off on them like I would if my own family were giving me a hard time—that would be rude. But I also don’t want to evade the topic completely—that ambiguity could make them think that we’re together when we’re not.
Simon’s back is to us as he washes the dishes and loads them into the dishwasher. With the water running and dishes clanking, I’m sure he can’t hear a word of what his mom is saying. It would be nice if he could hear the conversation, then swoop in and change the subject. But it looks like I’ll have to fend for myself.
I offer a polite smile. “We’re friends and colleagues. And that’s it.”
“Well, I for one think you two would make a really cute couple,” Miriam says, folding her napkin. Barbara nods her head in agreement.
I try to play it off with a chuckle. But the longer they stare hopefully at me, the clearer it becomes. I’m going to have to be a bit more blunt.
“Simon is an amazing person,” I say. “But we’re just friends. He’s told me how he’s focusing on his career right now. And I have a pretty terrible track record when it comes to relationships, so I’ve been concentrating on work too.”
I brace myself for more teasing from Miriam and Barbara. But instead they exchange a knowing glance. Miriam excuses herself to go take her blood pressure medication. Then Barbara pats her hand over mine, the expression on her face warm. “Oh honey, dating and relationships are absolutely awful, just the worst when you’re with the wrong person. But with the right person? Then it’s easy. A lot like a friendship, in fact. Except there’s the added bonus that you can’t keep your hands off each other.”
She winks, then stands up and walks over to Simon to help him with the dishes. And I’m left sitting at the table, mulling over her words.
“Hopefully my mom and grandma didn’t scare you off,” Simon says on the drive back to his apartment.
“Not at all. They were so sweet and welcoming.” I pat the cloth bag of Tupperware containers sitting on my lap. “And now we have a week’s worth of lunches and dessert.”
I almost mention his mom’s comment about us as a couple, but bite my tongue. It’s probably not worth mentioning for as much awkwardness as it might cause.
“So they didn’t give you a hard time about us?”
“How did you know that?”
“I grew up with them. I know what they’re like.”
“They asked about us, specifically if we were together. I said no, we’re just friends and added a bit about how I’m a walking relationship disaster to paint a more vivid picture. And then your mom said that when you’re with the right person, relationships are a lot easier. It was actually kind of...poetic the way she put it.”
“Poetic,” he repeats.
“If only it were that simple.”
I gaze out the window at the dark blue sky and the city lights glittering along the horizon. When I look at him, I notice his stare has gone intense. He’s studying the freeway like he’s trying to memorize every line in the road.
“Maybe itisthat simple,” he finally says.
“What?”
He clears his throat. “Maybe for some people relationships are that simple. Like your parents.”
“Yeah. I mean, they hardly ever fight. When they do, they resolve things right away. I’ve never seen them take longer than a few hours to make up. I don’t think they’ve ever gone to bed mad at each other. They share a lot of the same interests. And they make each other laugh all the time.”
Ever since I could remember, my parents seemed happy together. No, it wasn’t rainbows and sunshine all the time. They get on each other’s nerves like anyone else. But there’s a baseline with them. They never insult each other. They’re always kind to one another. And they always look at each other with adoration in their eyes. Always.
“They don’t just love each other; they like each other too. I think that makes a difference,” I say.
I recall the phrase they’ve said out loud a million times when others who have noticed their marital bliss ask them the same question.
“They say it’s because at the core, they’re best friends. That probably counts for a lot.”
We hit a construction zone blocking traffic. Simon eases to a stop and turns to look at me.
He’s not quite frowning, and there’s a rawness behind his eyes that I can’t ever remember seeing before.
“Naomi.” His voice is gruff when he says my name. It makes my heart beat all the way up my throat. “I—”