What is wrong with this woman? How can she possibly be like this? She’s face-to-face with the girl, now a woman, she abandoned more times than I can count. She’s in the same room with her own flesh and blood she chose to refuse her love to and caused years of pain to as a result. I don’t know what to say, so I respond in the only way I know how. “Excuse me.” I race past my mother and into the bathroom where I empty my stomach into the toilet.
This was far from a good idea. From the minute the meeting was suggested I didn’t want to do it. Damn Keith for convincing me to come. I allowed his honey eyes and Zen Buddha aura to infiltrate my fortress and I let my guard down. I thought, sure, I can be the bigger person and try to come to terms with my past, and here I am with my head in the toilet. She can’t know she got to me. She can’t.
“Are you okay, Cassie?” Sasha slightly opens the door, and I turn my head away from her.
“I’m not going to throw up again if that’s what you mean.” My voice is shaking as well as the rest of my body. It’s been years since I’ve thrown up, and I don’t want to do it again anytime soon. “Am I okay otherwise? That remains to be seen.”
“Can I come in?”
I grab some toilet paper and wipe my mouth and then flush the toilet. Cinnamon air freshener is on the back of the tank so I grab that and spray quickly. “Sure. Come in.”
I sit down on the floor against the bathtub and she sits on the toilet seat cover. I’m little grossed out considering I just threw up in there, even if she did put the cover down. “Of all the things that could have happened tonight, I didn’t expect this to be one of them. And the second you walked in, too. I’m sorry.”
“I honestly didn’t know what would happen.” I sweep her apology under the rug. Even though I agreed to this, the entire thing was still her idea, thus, her fault. “I thought I would be here before her.” This doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have thrown up. But, at least I would’ve had more time to prepare. My mom practically threw herself on top of me the minute I arrived.
She stands and leans against the counter. “I really hope you plan to stay. Your mom is very concerned about you.”
“Because I threw up? Anytime I felt sick as a kid, she never took care of me. She gave me some Tylenol and told me to lay down and sleep it out. Why is today any different?”
“I don’t know, Cassie, it just is.” She’s eyeing me up and down waiting for a response she’ll never get. “I have a toothbrush that hasn’t been opened in the drawer.” She slides open the drawer and grabs one for me. “Why don’t you freshen up and come join us at the dinner table? If you don’t feel like eating, that’s fine.”
“Thanks for the permission.”
“Come on, Cassie.”
I suppose I’m not coming into this with an open mind at all. I’m still upset she’s been talking with my mom, but I don’t need to treat her like this. I want to blame her for all of this, make her the reason I’m falling to pieces in the bathroom, but as she stands here, checking up on me and looking at me with those concerned eyes, I know she only is trying to do what she thinks is best for me. Imagine that, my little cousin taking care of me. She’s a sweetheart and when someone wears their heart on their sleeve, it doesn’t give you permission to break it. She wants me to love my mom like she loves hers. I won’t, but I don’t need to put this on her. I still made the decision to come.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’ll be right there.”
“Great.” She leans in and gives me an awkward hug. “Thank you.”
I wait for moment after she closes the door before I brush my teeth. Much better. I look at the person staring back at me in the mirror. “You can do this, Cassie. Sit down, eat, chat for an hour, and leave. This is so simple.” I close my eyes, take a deep breath and exhale. Time to face reality.
When I return to the little reunion Sasha has set up, both she and my mom are already seated at the table. My mom is seated on one side, and Sasha on the other. This puts me is smack dab in the middle. I take my seat and while I’m not making eye contact with her, I can feel my mom watching my every move. “Where’s Garrett tonight?” I ask Sasha, avoiding any opportunity to say something to my mother or look in her direction.
“He went out with his friends. He thought this should be a family thing.”
I want to ask why my mother is there then because she certainly isn’t my family, but I know this means a lot to Sasha and I told myself in the bathroom I would give this a shot.
“You look amazing.” My mother tries to break the ice. I don’t respond. Is she waiting for me to accept the compliment, or offer her one in return? Sure, she looks great. She doesn’t look doped up or like she hasn’t eaten for days. I don’t recognize her and I don’t want to.
“Cassie?”
I turn to Sasha. “What?”
“Why don’t you tell your mom thank you?”
I’m not a three-year-old learning her manners who needs direction. Is this how the entire evening is going to go? My mom will say something, I won’t respond, so Sasha will play the mediator. The only thing I have in common with my mother is we share the same bloodline. Even if we did have something we mutually enjoyed, I wouldn’t want to discuss it with her. We haven’t even begun eating and I’m ready to get out of here. “Thank you.” I turn back to Sasha. “Are you happy?” Sasha frowns and a tinge of regret forms in my belly. “I apologize. I’m a little bit uncomfortable.”
I’m sure we all are, which is why no one confirms or denies my statement. I think Sasha expected this to turn out like a great family reunion. My mother and I would see each other and we’d embrace and cry and list all our apologies after years of separation. We’d tell stories about our lives and share our hopes and dreams for the future, one that included us together. That’s the thing about Sasha. She’s a dreamer, and she believes dreams come true. I stopped believing in fairy tales long before I became an adult.
Sasha has prepared a meal of spaghetti and meatballs. I slap some pasta on my plate along with some sauce and sprinkle on a ton of Parmesan cheese, because, come on, that’s the best part. I whirl my fork and spiral some on and take a quick bite. Luckily, I don’t feel like hurling. I think I actually may be a little hungry. I should get a lot of food in my belly because I plan on drinking tonight.
“What are you doing now? I haven’t heard from you since before you started college.” My mom starts right into the conversation, as though we sat down after a day of work and we’re shooting the shit. Old buds, great friends. One fat lie.
I try to figure out a way to get through this. Maybe if I pretend I’m on a job interview this will be easier. If I answer her questions and don’t go into too much detail, I can make it through this. “I’m an IT Manager at a law firm downtown.”
She nods, and I can’t tell if this is because she is impressed, disappointed, or only acknowledging my answer. I don’t offer any further words while she eats a bite of her food. When I think maybe she’s decided not to speak anymore, she asks another question. “How did you pay for college, if you don’t mind my asking?”
I kind of do mind her asking, but Sasha is keyed in on me, watching my every reaction, and pleading with her eyes for me not to blow up. I don’t like this interrogation. I haven’t a clue how to make this conversation work, but this isn’t it. My success is no thanks to her. This shouldn’t be a shock. “Financial aid and everything is already paid off. I’ve learned to take care of myself. I learned that a very young age.” I don’t look right at her. I can’t look into those aged eyes without seething at the mouth.
“Hm.” In my peripheral vision, she nods her head again. Her and her damn nodding. My stomach growls at me, but it’s not out of hunger. The bubbles in my belly are stuck in my abdomen and I could really use a Gas-X right about now. I can’t eat another bite as I anticipate her response. Finally, she says, “I got married recently.”
Is this supposed to impress me? What am I supposed to say? For years, y
ou slept with every man you possibly could and didn’t even stay with anyone long enough to know who my father is, and I’m supposed to be happy you’re married now? Now that you’re almost in your sixties? ”I saw the pictures on Facebook.”
She drops her fork on her plate, startling both me and Sasha. “So you did get my request?”
Oh, the joys of Facebook. Everyone’s favorite app to spend time on and their favorite one to hate. “Yes, I did, recently. I haven’t been on there in ages. I checked it recently.” This is more explanation than she needs.
“Why didn’t you accept it?”
Why is Facebook the true determination of friendship? No one is actually dating until they are “Facebook Official.” It’s the one place people seek out validation. Who has the most friends? Do we have mutual friends? Why won’t you send me additional lives in Candy Crush? This is part of the reason I stay away. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” Nor will I ever. She’s lucky I’m not giving her the answer I want. I’m trying my best to keep our hostess in mind and not be rude, but my mother is testing my ability to do so.
“His name is David. He used to sell insurance, but he’s retired now. I was his secretary.”
Talk about cliché. And she has a job? “So you found a legitimate way to make a living?”
“That’s not really fair, Cassie.” When my mother says this, every muscle in my body tenses. I’m stiff from head to toe, but at the same time, my entire body shakes, goosebumps raising with every hair.
“Are you really going to talk to me about what’s fair?” I push my plate aside. I shake my head in apology at Sasha. I can’t do this. I can’t pretend to be here and enjoying my mom’s company. There’s a fire in my body and her remarks are only fanning the flames. I’m ready to toss out fireballs. “What’s fair about forgetting to pick me up because you’re off with your flavor of the week? What’s fair about not being able to help me with my school projects because you’re high off your rocker? What’s fair about being a teenage girl and not having my mother around to teach me about my period and boys and being a good person? You tell me, what’s fair about that?”
She swallows so hard I can hear it across the table. “I was scared, Cassie. I took the wrong paths in life. So many of them. I wish I could change that.”
I slide my chair out and stand up. “Well, you can’t. I’m sorry, but this is too little too late. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I flick my head over toward Sasha. “Thank you for a lovely meal.”
“Why don’t you stay and we can talk this out?” Sasha pleads.
She put a lot of work into this, and she really wanted it to work out, but this isn’t her estranged mother sitting at the table. It’s mine. “No offense, Sasha, but I can’t stand to be here another minute.”
“You’re being very rude.” My mother stands and tosses her napkin on the table, pointing her finger at me.
She can’t scold me. I’m not her child anymore. I’m a grown woman who worked her ass off to get where she is today, and I did it without anyone’s help. I did it on my own, and she has no right to come in here and try to win me back as a daughter. The fire is burning at my fingertips, and I’m opening and closing my fists. I want to throw something. Anything. Without a second thought, I dig my hand into the pasta, the now cold and slimy noodles slipping through my fingers, and whip a handful at her. My mother gasps as the pasta hits her on the neck and slides down her shirt.
“I really don’t care.” I stand up proudly and march out the door.
Chapter
Twenty
The disastrous dinner with my mom was easily managed with a bottle of wine. Now, I need to shift my focus to finishing the Pilot Project. The November deadline is only weeks away, and Keith has been working diligently to complete his portion.
Keith has been working all day and it’s nearing dinner time. Terrence and Lucas left early for a family event, which is fine by me. I’m trying my best to avoid Lucas altogether, or at least not be alone with him. He hasn’t mentioned our night together, but I still catch him checking me out during meetings. That’s in the past and it has to remain there.
Keith knocks before coming into my office. “Hey, Cassie.”
“Hey.” I shut my laptop so I can give him my full attention. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” He steps closer to my desk, his hands in his pockets. I’m recalling him in his tank top from yoga class. I should go again on Sunday. Maybe not his class, but if I run into him again after I can get another glance of his arms. “I want to finish today if I can.”
“I can’t believe how quickly you’ve done this. How much more time do you need?”
“About an hour and a half. Two hours, tops.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s only five-thirty. I can stick around until seven or seven-thirty. No big deal. “Do you want to work some overtime and finish up today?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He winks as he sits across from me.
Once he finishes his portion, Lucas takes over, and I’m completely out of the project. And then I only see Keith on Thursdays at the meetings. I don’t know why I’m sad about this, but I am. But I can push this project out of my mind and put my all into the other things I’m working on. I can shine in those areas. Prove myself again. “Of course not. But if you’re so close to finishing, why not get it done?”
“If you’re cool with that, so am I.”
“It’s a deal.”
Keith doesn’t wait and heads down to the basement to work. I open my laptop back up, the light stir of the processor fan the only thing I hear. Most of the staff has left already so the floor is quiet. I enjoy quiet.
Not sure where to start, I remember reviews are coming up, so I can utilize my time best by making notes on that. This will give me a solid head start before I write up the full performance report for each worker.
Rain has started falling outside. It’s mid-October and while I’m thankful there isn’t any snow yet, I’m sick of the wind. The rain I could take or leave. The pellets pound against my window, the small one I actually have, and the wind rattles the frame. I didn’t think it was supposed to be this windy today.
Okay, I’m distracting myself with the weather. Time to get to work. I open the program I use for reviews. Julian is up first. What to say, what to say. He’s young, like Lucas. He can take a difficult situation and turn it around. He brings fun to the office, something I consider important. He’s also smart and ethical, like Keith. He’s knowledgeable in his area of expertise and works until he gets it done, not allowing himself to get sidetracked.
Why am I comparing Julian to Lucas and Keith? And why have those two even entered my mind while working on this review? The rain has picked up and the noise is distracting me. I open my Spotify app and start a nineties playlist. The extra noise should do me some good. As much as I do love the quiet, too much silence can be dangerous.
I finish up Julian’s review and move onto Kimmy. What to say about her? She’s a sweet girl but tends to follow. I want her to lead. Maybe I haven’t given her the opportunity to shine. Of course, shouldn’t she want to do that on her own? All my life I wanted to rise above my crappy existence and make myself someone I would admire. I’m not trying to sound cocky, I’m not. I spent my childhood and teen years pushing my face to the books, getting straight A’s, and hiding who I was all at the same time. Don’t people with perfect upbringings want the same? I think everyone should strive to be better than they are today, always improving on themselves.
This may be what attracts me to Lucas. He’s easy on the eyes, but he’s working toward a future. He’s doing what needs to be done to be successful. A confident man with perfect skin and an athletic body. He’s desirable in every aspect of the word.
I shiver the thoughts of his hard body off me. That’s enough, Cassie. He’s young. He’s still inexperienced. He’s still learning.
But Keith isn’t. He’s my age. He’s seasoned. A man. I’ll
admit I wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around my body. A sensual embrace. A few days scruff brushing against my cheek. I shake my head and clear my throat as I refocus onto Kimmy’s review. I shouldn’t be thinking about this.
Yet I am. I can’t concentrate. Damn it. I blame both of them, I really do. If Lucas weren’t so gentle and romantic … and much too young. If Keith didn’t attend my meetings, if he didn’t get on my nerves so much. Maybe together they could be the perfect man. I could commit to them both. Would they approve of a three-way relationship? We can be one big couple. Together, but separate. I know a lot of men dream of two women, but what are the chances I could date two men?
I’m being ridiculous. I’ve lived the past twenty years stern in my position never to marry or even be in a long-term relationship. Why am I stuck on these two? Why are they hitting all the right buttons? Why do I care so much? The calendar keeps moving, and I keep staying the same. I can’t see there being much of a point of pursuing any sort of relationship, even a casual one since it never can go anywhere anyway. I just set myself up or somebody else for disaster.
I switch to the eighties station and it’s in the middle of “Don’t Wanna Fall in Love” by Jane Child. She certainly has a point. Love, no matter if it’s maternal, friendly, or sexual, can certainly cut like a knife. I’m sure I’ve hurt Lucas, ignoring him every chance I get after our night together, and he’s probably not the only one. I’m poison.
Enough is enough. Focus, Cassie! Onto Trevor. He’s the middle ground for the group. He doesn’t suck up too much but enough to get brownie points from me. I whip through his review, the easiest of the three to write about.
Keith interrupts my flow when he waltzes through my door. I’ve been working on reviews now for almost two hours. “Hey. You must be about done.”
“I am. Completely. Want to take a look?” He gestured toward the door.
“Yes!” I respond a little too eager. “Let me turn off my laptop.” I do so and follow him to the basement where he shows me his work.
Dating For Decades Page 13