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But I can’t lose my mother.

I had no other family in Canada when I was growing up. Every four years, we’d go to Hong Kong, and those trips were always awkward. My maternal grandmother would spend much of the time begging my mother to move back. I had a few cousins, but they were a lot older than me. My father’s family was furious with my mother, even a decade after his death, which they thought was her fault. To them, Canada killed him; if he and my mom had never moved, he would still be alive. They also blamed her for not giving my father a son.

Without my mother, I would feel like I had no family.

Though there’s Larry, of course. My mother’s husband. She never dated when I was a child, but she met him once I got a job and moved out. He’s white. He was widowed in his forties, and his kids are a few years younger than me.

So, I’ve got Larry and my “step siblings,” but that’s different. I didn’t meet them until I’d been an adult for almost a decade.

After they got married five years ago, Larry sold his house, and he and Mom bought a little townhome in Scarborough. He’s not rich, but he and my mom are able to afford a decent retirement with trips a couple times a year, so I’m happy with how it worked out.

Mom deserves it, after everything.

Tonight, it’s just me; Larry’s kids, who live out of town, aren’t here. Larry has made beef stroganoff, something I’d never eaten before I met him, but for some reason, Larry loves beef stroganoff, and he makes it all the time. I’m just glad Mom doesn’t have to do all the cooking.

“What projects do you have at work?” Mom asks.

“Do you really want to hear about this?” I don’t mind my job, but it’s not super exciting to talk about with people outside the field.

“Yes, you sound so smart!” She smiles at me.

My mother didn’t push me hard and have ridiculous expectations like many of my friends’ parents did. She was too busy struggling to make ends meet, and I think she understood that I already felt a lot of pressure without her saying anything. She’s never bugged me about getting married and having children, either. Occasionally she asks if I’m seeing anyone, but that’s about it.

Though I don’t keep a lot of secrets from my mom, of course I don’t tell her about the guy I had sex with a dozen times in forty-eight hours. (Okay, maybe it was only nine times, but still.) And I don’t tell her about those cherry gummies.

When I get back to my condo near Eglinton and Mount Pleasant, I receive a text from Carrie.

How was your night? she asks. Is Vince as good in bed as the rumors say?

I grin as I type. Oh, yeah. Vince was great.

Details.

Nope. Those are just for me.

But you slept with Vince Fong! And you’re such a badass that you walked right up to him and started making out with him.

Yeah, and he gave me an orgasm in public.

I’m not really an exhibitionist, but for some reason, it was just what I needed on Friday.

Wow. That was only two days ago. It feels like so much longer.

I am pretty badass, aren’t I? I text. How was your night?

I went home with Alexis, actually.

Well, I’m glad the woman I saw kissing Vince still got to have a good time.

That night, when I cuddle up under my covers, I’m at peace with the world, though I experience a moment of longing to feel Vince’s hand drifting down my body again. Then I remind myself that he’s not the kind of guy I want long-term.

It was just one glorious weekend, and that’s okay.

* * *

The next few weeks proceed as usual. I go to work. I come home and make myself dinner and eat alone. I read, I watch TV. I sign up for a new dating app and immediately get a message from a creepy dude. I talk to my mother on the phone.

I listen to an Everclear album and remember when Vince asked about my favorite song.