Sugar Baby

by Robin Roseau

  “You’re a horrible liar.”

  “I’m a very good liar,” she said. “I may have been asked why you weren’t spending this time with your family.”

  “Ah, ha. So none of this was about what to say later, it was about forgiveness for things already said.”

  “Maybe,” she said coyly.

  I shook my head. “I don’t particularly care, but if the nature of my relationship becomes a topic of conversation, this little experiment of a family thing you’ve got going on is going to come to a screeching halt.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I can’t control that, Astrid. Please don’t punish me for something someone else does.”

  I looked into her eyes. Finally I nodded. “If it becomes a problem, you stomp it out. Promise me.”

  “I just want to handle things how you want.”

  “Did you think I wanted you talking about me behind my back?”

  “Well, no, but I had to say something.”

  “And someone in your family is as stubborn about answers as you are?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m gay. My family disowned me for it. I’m not hiding in any closets. But it’s Thanksgiving with a bunch of people I don’t know, and I’m not talking about any of that.”

  “All right. That’s a good answer. Good talk.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Daughter,” she added. Maggie snorted, so Cherlyn turned to her then pulled her closer to kiss her forehead. “Daughter,” she repeated. “Thank you. Both of you.”

  * * * *

  All that barely came up, and only when I was introduced to Cherlyn’s mother. “You’re the lesbian,” she declared.

  “That’s right, ma’am,” I replied.

  “Your parents are idiots,” she added. “You’re always welcome here. Who did you vote for in 2016?”

  “I was still 17, but I would have voted for Hillary.”

  “Good girl,” she replied. “How do you feel about vaccines?”

  “I think they save a lot of lives. I understand mothers being concerned about what they do to their children, but I take my advice from people with real medical degrees, not actresses who don’t even play doctors on television.”

  “Good girl,” she said again, this time with a little laugh.

  I folded my arms. “Got some more controversy you want to bring up?”

  “Maybe later,” she replied. “Don’t call me ma’am. My name is Olive.”

  “I meant no disrespect.”

  “I know you didn’t,” she said. “Go hang out with the young people now.”

  I laughed, and that was that.

  * * * *

  Over dinner, I learned an interesting tradition. Olive stood and offered thanks for the meal. She spoke for a minute, and then she said, “When this family was smaller, we had a tradition, but we’ve long outgrown it.” She turned to look at Maggie and me. “We used to go around, and everyone said something they were thankful for. Now we do it differently. Everyone has an assignment. You need to find three people before you leave tonight, and tell that person what you are thankful for that involves him or her. For two of you, that might be more difficult, but I expect you to do your best.”

  “We will, Olive,” I said.

  “Good. I want us all to lift a glass.” She demonstrated with her own, holding it in the air. Soon, everyone in the room was doing the same. “I’m not offering a toast. Instead, I want everyone to think about the simple joys of life for a moment. For me, I am thinking about the joy of being surrounded by the people I love, and the joy of sharing this bountiful meal. Please take a minute.”

  And it was, indeed, a minute, before Olive said, “Thank you.” She sipped. “Enjoy the meal. If you must pray, do it quietly.”

  I loved Cherlyn’s mom.

  Over the meal, I turned to Maggie. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

  “Good. Then I can go first. I’m thankful I have a great roommate and friend. I’ve never had someone like you in my life before.”

  “Maggie,” I said, a little overwhelmed.

  “Let me finish. We talk about things. And we trust each other. When one of us goofs, we forgive each other.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”

  “I think I was going to say half of that,” I said. I leaned closer. “I wouldn’t even be in college anymore if it weren’t for you.”

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “I wouldn’t have met Cassidy if not for you.”

  “And I don’t think I’d have been able to talk about what Honey said with anyone else.”

  We smiled somewhat inanely at each other for a minute.

  Later, I found Cherlyn. “Your mother is a hoot.”

  “She’s definitely something,” Cherlyn said. “I was hoping I’d find you.”

  “Thank you for pseudo-adopting me,” I said.

  “Thank you for letting me. Is there any chance you could call me Mom?”

  I thought about it. “Where does that leave Tim?”

  “He can get his own,” she said with a smile.

  “I think he already did that part.”

  “Yeah, well,” she said. “Tim is Tim.”

  “What does he think of this little campaign of yours?”

  She put on a gruff voice. “Whatever you want, Cherlyn. Why did you stop moving?”

  “You’re terrible!” I said. “I can’t believe you said that to your own daughter.”

  Her eyes watered. I’d been teasing, but I moved closer and hugged her. “Mom,” I said into her ear, then kissed her cheek.

  “Don’t say it if you’re just humoring me.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I told her. “Is this about what you want? Or is this because you think the lost sheep needs taking care of?”

  “There’s part of the latter, but there’s as much selfishness going on.” She pushed away, but kept her arms around my waist. “It killed me when I found I couldn’t have kids. Then my first husband wasn’t at all interested in adopting. Now, I’m too old to raise babies. Is it weird, Astrid?”

  “A little,” I said. “But life is weird, and I refuse to judge or be judged.”

  “Good for you. Will you say it again?”

  I smiled. “Mom.”

  She smiled broadly. “Does it feel weird?”

  “Not that weird,” I said.

  She brushed my cheek. “I’m sorry your original family were a bunch of buttheads. But their loss is my gain, Daughter.”

  I stared at her for a while. Well, we stared at each other. Then, and I’m not sure which of us started it, we hugged tightly again.

  * * * *

  After that, I was just as likely to call her Mom as I was Cherlyn. Maggie told me she thought it was cool, and she increasingly called her Mom as well, in spite of efforts to reserve that for Bobbie and using Mother for Cherlyn.

  Things continued with school. Things really continued with Cassidy, and they remained just as hot, besides.

  Then winter break came. Cassidy and Cherlyn both wanted me with them, so of course, Cassidy won. I helped decorate her house.

  Christmas eve arrived. Maggie picked me up in her rust bucket. I had presents with me and was dressed in festive colors. I felt weird leaving Cassidy, but was looking forward to spending the time with Maggie, Cherlyn, and Tim.

  “She’s going to pounce on you the minute we get there,” Maggie warned me.

  “Were you supposed to warn me?”

  She laughed and didn’t answer.

  We pulled up in front of their house. Maggie grabbed my overnight bag. I grabbed my sack of presents. It was a small sack, but I had presents for the three as well as stocking stuffers for all of us, even myself. Cherlyn and Tim met us at the door. I asked permission to please take off my coat before they hugged me, and then did just that.

  “What’s that?” Cherlyn asked, pointing to the sack of presents.

 
; “Call me Santa,” I said.

  “Astrid, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “They’re all small,” I said. “Well, Maggie’s coal lump is kind of heavy.”

  “Hey! I’m a good girl. I don’t get coal.”

  “Go put her things in your room,” Cherlyn said. “Come to me, Daughter.” She held her arms open, and I moved to accept my hug and kiss.

  “It’s good to see you, Mom,” I whispered to her. She said nothing but simply tightened.

  “How’s your girlfriend.”

  “You’re not supposed to ask.”

  “I can’t ask that much?”

  “She’s fine. She’s spending today with her family.”

  “And then the rest of the break with you. How does that work?”

  “Well, she is in one place. And I’m in the same place, offset by as small a distance as possible while adhering to the rules of physics.”

  “Funny,” she said. “Two starving college girls. Does she have an apartment?”

  I pushed away, just enough to look into her eyes. “She’s independently wealthy and is taking me on a trip.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You shouldn’t make accusations without evidence,” I said. “She’s taking me to Florida. I’m not paying a dime. You can just wonder how that works, but you made promises to me, Mother.” I said that word a little sarcastically.

  “But.”

  “I mean it.”

  “You can’t blame me for worrying about you. I think you’re in over your head, and I don’t think she’s treating you very well.”

  “She treats me very well,” I said. “Better than anyone could imagine. Drop it.”

  “But.”

  “Do you want me to learn that it’s okay to break promises?”

  “But. Promise me that you’re using safe sex.”

  “You want me to promise you that I’m having sex?”

  She colored immediately but protested, “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Maybe you want to know I won’t accidentally get pregnant.”

  She began laughing. “All right.”

  “If you’re worried about other things, we were both tested, and they were very, very thorough.”

  “But.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?” I asked.

  “I want to meet her!” She made it half a wail.

  “If she’s ever ready,” I said. “Are we done?”

  “When will that be?”

  “I don’t know. Are you bugging Maggie about this?”

  “She told me flat out she’d rat me out to you if I did.”

  I laughed. “And?”

  “I dropped it.”

  “Good. And you’re going to keep it dropped. Do you know why?”

  “Because I haven’t confiscated your phone, and you know how to call Uber?”

  “No. Well, yes, but no. You’re going to keep it dropped because you owe my girlfriend your relationship with Maggie.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My girlfriend was the first to tell Maggie to give you a real chance.”

  “I thought that was that advisor of yours.”

  “She said it, too,” I said. “But my girlfriend was first, and I think it was the way she put it that carried more weight, even if Maggie doesn’t really remember it that way. We’re done now. Right?”

  “Right. Oh, good. It’s time to decorate the tree!”

  “You haven’t decorated the tree?”

  “We were waiting for you,” she said, taking my hand.

  “You don’t think you were getting out of tree decorating, did you?” Maggie asked. “There are cookies to bake before we can have dinner.”

  “Isn’t there a bird in the oven or something?”

  “Toaster oven cookies,” Cherlyn said. Then she clapped her hands. “We have such lovely decorations to put up. Everyone helps. Tim! No slinking off. You can do the tall parts.”

  * * * *

  We had a lovely dinner.

  Later, we put up stockings. Cherlyn had one for each of us, and she let me help fill them with the little things I had brought. And then, because I wouldn’t be here in the morning, we then had an early Christmas Day.

  What a difference a year made.

  Saying It

  I waited until we were seated on the jet before I leaned to her and asked, “So. PDA?”

  She looked over at me, our noses inches apart. “Are you asking what I want or telling me what you want?”

  “Both.”

  She smiled then took my offered hand, waiting on the armrest between us, before kissing my nose. “But not tacky PDA.”

  “Save that for in private.”

  “That’s right,” she declared.

  We flew into Fort Myers, collected our luggage, and picked up our rental car. Then it was a half hour drive out to the island.

  I craned my head, looking everywhere. I’d never been to Florida before. It was weird going from cold and snow to this. Then I stared.

  “That person is wearing a ski jacket!”

  She laughed. “I know. Crazy. And just think. In another half hour. You’re going to be completely naked.”

  I laughed. “Am I?”

  “You are,” she said. “Got a problem with that?”

  “No, but will you take me for a walk on the beach later?”

  “I would love to.”

  “Will you hold my hand?”

  “I would love to.”

  “Will you climb on top of me as the waves come in and out and kiss me deeply?”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure about that part. You did see the ski jacket.”

  “I checked,” I said. “The water temperature never gets that cold.”

  “I think 65 is a little cold for swimming,” she said.

  “I suppose,” I said. “Still.” I grinned. “What are the chances we’ll come back some time when we can indulge in my fantasy?”

  “So that’s your fantasy?”

  “One of dozens,” I said. “You already indulge me in some of them.”

  “I do, hmm? Which ones are missing?”

  “Well, there’s that one,” I said. “And there’s the one where I get to tickle you.” She laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Seriously. Do you have fantasies you aren’t sharing?”

  “I just shared two.”

  “I don’t think you were serious about either of them.”

  “Well, in the scheme of things, you might be right about the kissing on the beach thing. Sand. Salt. I bet it looks a lot hotter than it really is.”

  “Having done that once, I know I’m right.”

  “Really?”

  “I was young.”

  “And?”

  “I’ve done the swimming pool one, too.”

  “Have you. And?”

  “And maybe I’m a prude.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t really care for the taste of chlorine.”

  “Oh.” I thought about it. “No one talks about that when they make it look sexy.”

  “I think the imagery is good, and maybe other people really get into it, but I prefer other environments.”

  “Like the shower.”

  She laughed. “Showers aren’t bad. Astrid, the truth.”

  “I have things I think about sometimes, but most of it’s more of what we’re already doing. Sometimes I think of, I don’t know. Scenarios.”

  “Scenarios?”

  “Yeah, like, you’re a college professor.”

  “And you’re one of my students. How naughty.”

  “Not at all. I’m the mother of one of your students.”

  She laughed. “Right.”

  “I’m serious. And my child isn’t doing well, so I come in for a conference with you.”

  “And one thing leads to another.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m trying to figure out if you’re serious,” she said.

  “
Sometimes class is boring, and my mind starts wandering.”

  “You should be paying attention.”

  “My political science professor reminds me of you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She’s brilliant.”

  “I am beginning to see the resemblance already.”

  “And very passionate.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “From the way she talks about political science, of course. She’s very ethical and would never engage in an illicit affair with a student.”

  “But perhaps with the mother of a student?”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “Should I be jealous?” Cassidy asked.

  “Probably not. I think she might be a couple of years older than you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I can’t really tell. But she has grey hair. Well. White.”

  “White hair,” Cassidy echoed, and I knew I had her.

  “Uh, huh,” I replied.

  “Just how old is she?”

  “I don’t know. She’s a professor emeritus. What does that mean?”

  “It means she’s retired!”

  “She can’t be retired,” I replied. “She’s teaching my class. I think she’s like, maybe 74? How old are you?”

  She sputtered and finally said, “I’m certainly not 74!”

  “I did say she was a couple of years older.”

  “Three decades is not a couple of years!” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I began snickering. Cassidy finally realized I’d been teasing her. “Oh, you are a naughty girl.”

  “Going to spank me?” I asked.

  “Darned right I am.”

  “What if I like it? Will you do it some more?”

  “How much of that story was at all true?”

  “Well, my political science professor really is 74. And I really do think about things we do together, or could do together.”

  She glanced over at me. “Do you?”

  “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah, but I’m a hedonistic octogenarian, it seems.”

  “She’s only a septuagenarian,” I said. And you’re not even a fiftuagenarian.”

  “There’s no such word.”

  “There is now. I just invented it.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “Why not? You knew immediately what I meant.”

  “You’re pushing my buttons.”

  “I’m feeling playful,” I said. “You took me to Florida for a vacation! Sun, beach, sex, you. What else could a girl want?”