Page 50 of One Little Problem
Her demeanor wasn’t enough to get through to me though. “Really? Life’s been a picnic in the park for me these days. Now I even have the cookies.”
She smiled, which I didn’t expect while I was sassing her. “Not sure every picnic in the park has peanut butter cookies.” Yeah, this talking thing was such a great idea. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, now we were even arguing about picnics.
“I know how a picnic works,” I informed her seriously. That was kind of a weird sentence to be so serious about.
But still, that was how picnics worked. White and red checkered blanket, under the shadiest tree, and food laid out on a tray, so it was a little off the ground and less prone to ant attack. The peanut butter cookies were positioned closest to Lily because they were her least favorite—which meant that she only had one or two at most because her least favorite cookie was still a cookie, so she was going to have some—but Rose and I both really liked them and would fight over them when given the chance.
“That’s always what we’ve done,” Mom said of the peanut butter cookies. “But they aren’t a requirement for everyone.” So not every family had picnics with peanut butter cookies. Yeah, that made sense. Well, no, those families were dumb, but it was up to them. Though maybe they were smart because it involved less bloodshed. However, Rose and I could probably make anything have bloodshed if we tried hard enough.
“The chicken salad is mandatory though, right?” I asked, smiling a little.
“Oh, absolutely.” That was almost companionable and we both realized at the same moment and it got strained. “Just, sit down, don’t act like you’re about to bolt.” Reluctantly, I did what she said and she sat down next to me.
“When we talked after you and Ryan broke up, I acted badly.” That was her opening line. When had we— oh after I told her we broke up but we really didn’t and she told me to like girls instead.
“We disagree.” Maybe I should grab a cookie and stuff it down my throat. Then, because of the second-degree burns, I wouldn’t be able to talk. My main objection to talking was that I wondered what good it would do. I worried it would just be more of us sniping and hurting each other.
“Oh, you have a high opinion of me.” She placed her hands neatly in front of her on the table.
“No, just that you’ve been acting badly for a while, not just with our last conversation.”
“Did you and Ryan break up because of your dad and I?” Not what I expected her to say. Her gaze was steady on me when I looked up from her hands.
“Why, you wanna pat yourself on the back?” This was familiar ground, lashing out. Always felt like I needed to have my guard up around them because all I wanted was for them to be my parents again, but I couldn’t just give in while they had a problem with who I was.
“You seemed to handle it so well before,” Mom noted about my breakup with Ryan. “Were you trying to put on a brave face around us? And I don’t even get why you seem so down if you’re the one who did the breaking up.”
“I didn’t want to—” Her expression changed a bit, like she didn’t know that before and I stopped. “Wait, why are you so interested?”
She seemed taken aback by the question. “You’re my son, you know I care about you.”
We were having a dialogue. This was progress. I had to stop myself from ruining it by giving into all my hurt feelings. Really, I’m your son? Thought that was news to you. That didn’t stop you before. Could have fooled me. I went with, “I thought this was something you’d rather not hear about.”
“I’m still your mother.” Could have fooled me, I thought again. Looked like she was expecting me to say that, but I didn’t, so she continued after a moment. “You’re in pain and I’m not there next to you helping you through it, that’s so weird.” Did she bake the cookies for me?
Hey, common ground, that was weird for me too. But this time I couldn’t stop the words. “You’re trying to lay the groundwork, so we become close again, and then you’ll try to set me up with some girls.” It wasn’t anger talking. It was fear. Me telling myself not to give into this even though it was all I wanted at the moment.
“I wouldn’t—"
“Not now, in a few weeks. You know, we’ll all be a happy little family again as long as I date a girl this time.” I frowned at the thought. Couldn’t imagine dating anyone right now… with one obvious exception.
She looked sad but not upset by what I said. “I get why you have trouble believing me, with the distance between us, that’s new and scary.”
“Mom—" Hell yeah it was.
“And yes, I’ll admit that when you first told the news, I was relieved, happy even.” Her tone was gentle, but the words weren’t what I wanted to hear.
I winced, then tried to act less bothered. Not like it was totally surprising. “I assumed so,” I told her tightly. “But you really didn’t need to say it.”
“Can you blame me? None of this was what I wanted for you and you didn’t even seem bothered by breaking up.” Didn’t exactly have an argument for that since it hadn’t been real at first, so of course I wasn’t upset then. “Your breakup was good news until you started acting sad.”
“I’ll try to stop being so inconvenient?” Was that what she wanted? “Don’t wanna ruin your celebration.”
“No, what I mean is,” she paused, gathering her thoughts, then she gave me a frank look. Uh oh. “Luke, I haven’t always liked the girls, the people you’ve dated.” She shook her head. “Your taste is questionable sometimes. Remember that girl that always used a baby voice? Or the one that had a tattoo at 15? A lower backtattoo, Luke, at 15. What were her parents thinking?”
“Mom,” I said. Or maybe pleaded. We really didn’t need to revisit my poor life choices. Though come on, the tattoo thing was pretty hot. I couldn’t resist… she was kinda crazy though, think she tried to set a fire in the bathroom when she came over for dinner.
Mom was on a roll. “Or the one who stole from our liquor cabinet or the girl who nearly wrecked your car breaking for a squirrel.”
