Page 11 of Raise The Bar
The announcement never came. I wasn’t sure how everything worked at the time, but I knew things were tense at home. One day I overheard my mom crying on the phone to my grandmother that she’d gotten her period again. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. Eventually, they went to a doctor who confirmed that everything was fine with mom. It was Steven who was sterile. They were both crushed. Part of me was too, I would have loved to have had siblings.
Things at home deteriorated quickly. Mom tried to make the best of things, tried to convince her husband that they already had a beautiful family. I heard them talking one night when I was supposed to be asleep. When she asked him if he wanted to adopt, he laughed bitterly and told her that he already had one kid that wasn’t his; why in God’s name would he want another?
Everything was the same and yet it was different. He stuck around, but he wasn’t present. To everyone else, he was still the doting husband, but at home there was another Steven known only to my mother and me. He drank often, and he’d get angry easily. My mother would withdraw into herself and it was my job to de-escalate the situation. I don’t know how many times I had to talk him down over whatever trivial thing had upset him. I watched my mother’s heart break a little more every day as she slowly lost the love she’d waited so long for. I did my best to keep her happy. I got straight A’s in school and kept myself out of trouble. I helped around the house and never asked for anything. I continued to try to form some sort of relationship with Steven, but it was no use.
In my senior year of high school, he died of an aneurysm while at work. The doctor said he was dead before his body hit the ground. Everyone was devastated for her, but mom had been grieving her marriage for years. He’d left her long before he actually died.
Things were better after that. We both stopped holding our breaths and settled into life with just the two of us again. We never talked about Steven, just dusted ourselves off and moved on.
The first thing I did after I sold my first company was buy mom a beautiful new condo close to her family and friends in Tampa. She can relax on a velvet chaise eating bonbons for the rest of her life. Hell, I would hire someone to feed her said bonbons if she didn’t want to do it herself.
“I just want you to be happy,” she says quietly. “You’ve built a wonderful life for yourself and I’m so proud of you. Don’t you think you’d like someone to share it with?”
After watching you fall in love only to have your heart shattered? No, not really.
“You know me, Mom.” I grin and turn the boyish charm up to eleven. “I’m always happy. And if the right girl comes along, you’ll be the first to know.”
Chapter 6
Maggie
“Maggie, please stop shoving dicks in my face!” Betty shrieks as she turns away from my phone screen, shielding her eyes with her hands.
“Sorry, babe, but you agreed to help me and I can’t be the only person who has to look at these.”
It’s been almost a week since I created my Snagged profile and entered the ring of online dating. In the past six days, I’ve received messages from more than thirty men. Well, most of them have been messages, but this is the ninth picture of genitalia. There have been dicks of all lengths and girths. Veiny dicks, hairy dicks, some are circumcised, some aren’t. I have to wonder what percentage of men and women receive these jpegs and say to themselves, “Yes. I’ll take that one.”
Of the non-dick pic messages, a dozen or so have been promising. I’m going on my first date this evening and have a coffee date booked for tomorrow. Surely there will be at least one in the lot who will be a suitable date for June’s wedding, which just happens to be six weeks from tomorrow.
Betty sits on my bed, hands still covering her eyes. She got home from work an hour ago and has been helping me get ready for date number one.
“You can open your eyes. I’ll keep the dick pics to myself. For now.”
Reluctantly, she peeks out from between her fingers before lowering both hands to her lap. “I love the dress, but maybe go with a different pair of shoes.” Obediently, I slip off the silver heels and dig through the closet for something else. I hold up a pair of black kitten heels in one hand and chunky red heels in the other. Both would look great with my cream-colored sundress, but Betty is shaking her head. “ Too formal. It’s a first date at a pub; you need something more casual.” She’s right. I’m hit with a lightning bolt and run from my room to the hall closet. When I return, I’m wearing my bright red Chuck Taylor’s and a jean jacket. “Perfect!”
I check myself out in the mirror and have to agree. The look screams effortlessly cute. I’m wearing my curls up because I don’t want to be worried about what this humidity will do to my hair. The dress is modest, but short enough to show off my long legs.
“Text me when you get there to let me know you haven’t been catfished.”
“Will do.”
“And what do you do if he turns out to be a murderer?”
“I will text you ‘Help! I’m being murdered.’”
“Great.” She hugs me at the door and I walk to the elevator. My body buzzes, but I can’t tell if it’s excitement or nerves.
“Remember,” Betty calls from the doorway just before the elevator doors close. “If he is a killer, don’t let him take you to a secondary location. Have fun!”
Thanks, bestie.Good talk.
***
The pub is busy, even for a Friday evening. I scan the bar for my date, Nick, a 32 year-old architect. He loves dogs, the Boston Red Sox, and cycling. He told me he’d be wearing a green polo shirt, which I’m grateful for since the bar is packed with thirty-something white guys. Finally I spot him, on the far side of the pub at a small table by himself. He waves awkwardly as I approach and stands to greet me. I offer him my hand to shake just as he comes forward for a hug. We laugh nervously and end up high-fiving instead.
Nick is nice looking, in that all-American way. He’s clean-shaven and well-groomed. Not a hair out of place on his head, not a wrinkle to be seen on his clothes. We talk about our jobs and what we like to do in the city. He tells me that his brother is also an architect and they started a firm together. I tell him about June and her photography.
“She’s actually getting married later this summer,” I say, happy for the opportunity to casually work the wedding into the conversation.
