Page 43 of The Last Date

“I can’t.” I shook my head.

“Okay, just nod if he was sweet with you and if it was incredible.”

My chin bobbed up and down emphatically.

“Amazing.” Sarah tucked her wavy hair behind her ears, then looked at me very seriously. “I guess the biggest question comes in two parts. Are you in love with him, and do you want to stay with him, no matter what your parents say?”

Staring into my wine glass, the answers were on the tip of my tongue. I was just too terrified to speak to them yet. I couldn’t answer those questions for certain. Absolutely nothing was certain anymore.

Everything was too big, too immediate. It felt like highschool drama was hitting me several years too late. Our conversation left me with many good questions, but no solid answers that I was quite ready to speak.

Walking home, I tried to sneak in, but Mom was waiting in the kitchen, listening for the front door.

“Sasha, may I speak to you please?” she called out.

Although my heart began to race like a rabbit at the thought of a confrontation, I found it interesting that it was a genuine request, not a demand for once.

Sitting down at the polished kitchen table, I looked around the room which was likely bigger than most people’s first apartments. The room had been redecorated every few years, but many of the elements had not changed a bit.

I had spent so much time making and eating meals with my parents here, but had they ever truly listened to who I was becoming?

“I wanted to apologize, honey,” my mother said. The expression in her eyes was completely alien to me. Was it compassion? Regret? “I should never have set you up with so many men, on so many dates. I’m truly sorry.”

Nodding slowly, I murmured, “Thank you.”

“But just because you were sick of those dates, that’s no reason to get serious with the first man who pays any attention,” she said.

“He listens to me, Mom,” I said slowly, wondering how much I should reveal. “He really cares for me and wants to make me happy. And he happens to be very good at it.”

She shook her head, swinging her dangling earrings. “Well, I can see that your mind is made up.” She paused, then remarked, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but my mother hated your father when she first met him.”

Laughter sputtered out of me. “I couldn’t imagine Grandma hating anyone.”

“Well, she did. Even though your father was well on his way to becoming wealthy, he was a little older, and he was known to have been a bit of a player in his past.”

“How is this the first I’m hearing of this?”

She pursed her lips. “This is scarcely polite conversation. But I suppose you’re old enough now to hear a few of the gory details.”

Her perfect nails tapped against her crystal water goblet. “I was young, and very sure I was in love, and I wouldn’t listen to anyone else.”

“I just came from a good talk with Sarah,” I said. “I’m listening to her opinion. And maybe for the first time, my own.”

Mom nodded. “If you are absolutely, truly in love with this Oakley, I can’t stop you. Your father might try, though.”

“Then I’ll take off,” I said with a shrug, surprising myself. “It’s probably time I found my own place anyway.”

Her mouth fell open. “A single girl living alone? That’s just not proper.”

“Welcome to the fifties,” I muttered.

She sighed heavily. “Just don’t rush into anything, all right? If you have any doubts whatsoever, take your time.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

We both perked up our heads as we heard Dad’s car in the driveway.

“I’m not ready to speak to him,” I said.

---