Page 197 of S is for SEX

He mother shook her head. She appeared totally different than she had all night. Instead of the cheerful woman who we had shared dinner with, her face appeared vacant and lost.

“I’m sorry Riley. I’m afraid I’m going to be sick,” she said as she raised her hand to her mouth.

“Blake,” she said as she turned to face me. “It was a pleasure.”

I stood from my seat and nodded my head. “Thank you, ma’am. Likewise.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” Riley said.

Her mother nodded, forced herself to smile, turned and walked away. In a few steps she disappeared down the hallway which led into the living area of the house.

“That’s sad. I was having fun. What happened?” Riley asked.

“I was too. I don’t know. We were talking and she seemed to fade away or something. Does she do that?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she lowered the platter to the table.

As she sat down, I continued. “I don’t know. She told me she thought you hit a home run in finding me then she asked me my last name. I answered her and she looked like she was trying to think of something else to ask, and she just faded off. Like her eyes got glazed over and glassy and she didn’t say anything else. Then you walked in.”

“Huh. No, she doesn’t do anything like that. Maybe it was the chicken or something. I thought it was cooked all the way through. Do you feel okay?” she asked.

I raised my cup of coffee. “I’m good.”

She tilted her head toward the cup. “Black, just like you like it.”

“Thanks,” I said as I took a sip of the much needed coffee.

“Wow. Well, that sucks,” she said as she tilted her head toward the hallway.

“Yeah, bad deal,” I said as I sipped the coffee.

We sat and ate the three pieces of cake, sharing the third piece. The differences in doing what we were doing and what I was accustomed to doing were drastic. Sitting in the shop eating a sandwich left over from lunch at ten o’clock at night was my typical dinner a month before I met Riley, and now I was eating tiramisu with a fork and drinking coffee from an ornate porcelain cup.

I glanced at her and grinned, truly grateful for her allowing me into her life.

“Let me clean this up and we’ll go back to my room,” she said as she stood from her seat.

“Your room? You don’t live here,” I said.

She scrunched her nose and stared. “I used to. When I left my room didn’t disappear.”

“Oh,” I said as I stood.

Together we carried the dishes to the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned the countertops and the dining room table. After everything was back to the away it was long before our arrival, she held her hand to the side and shifted her eyes in my direction.

I encompassed her hand in mine as I followed her out of the kitchen and along the same hallway her mother had disappeared down. The last door on the left was open, revealing a perfectly preserved bedroom from when I expected Riley left immediately following high school.

“It’s bright,” I said as I peered through the door.

She tugged against my arm. “Come on.”

After she pulled my arm straight, I shuffled behind her and into the room. The bed was covered in a pale yellow comforter and decorated with no less than a dozen pillows - all a different shade of yellow or blue. Two of the walls were painted light grey, and the other two were painted a complimentary blue-grey.

Although it certainly wouldn’t have been my choice of colors, it looked like she had hired someone to decorate it. For a normal person to choose the colors of all of the accessories in the room and have them match as well as they did would have been impossible.

“Did your mom hire someone to do this?” I asked as I gazed around the room.

“Do what?” she asked.

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