mom. She kept a strict calendar, and she didn’t appreciate deviation. If a party was going to happen, she wanted advance notice and a proper invitation so she could gracefully bow out if it didn’t sound like her kind of thing. I couldn’t fault her logic. No doubt I’d inherited my mom’s type-A tendencies…just like I’d inherited her dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, and golden skin.
“I have a tennis match tomorrow. I certainly wouldn’t have double-booked myself.” She craned her neck for a better look at the torn-up café…or shenanigans in the background, and frowned. “This is a mess.”
I fidgeted with the rainbow flag in my hand and gave a half laugh. “Yeah, I know. But it’s going to be great. Let me grab the plans. I can walk you through them and uh…do you want some champagne?”
My mom’s incredulous expression was tinged with irritation. Okay, nope…she was straight-up annoyed.
“I can’t hear myself think in here.” She cocked her head and frowned. “Is Gabe dancing with a girl? Did you break up? I thought he was a part owner. If you two are on the outs, this is not the time to—”
“Geez, Mom! No. Gabe and I aren’t breaking up.” Ugh. Just the thought made me queasy. “He’s dancing with his teammate’s girlfriend. Her name is—”
She held up a manicured hand like a stop sign and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. This is obviously not a good time, and you are obviously ill-prepared. Call me later, Derek.”
“Mom, wait!” I threw my red cup in the trash next to the door and hurried after her, grabbing the strap on her purse before she stormed down the sidewalk. “I’m sorry. We must have had a miscommunication. Let’s try again next weekend. I don’t know what state the store will be in. The contractor indicated this will take six to eight weeks.”
Mom crossed her arms and fixed me with a sharp look. “And then what?”
“We’ll open in December.” When she didn’t reply right away, I started babbling. Not a good look on me. Especially after a couple of mimosas. I tended to get kind of animated with liquid courage. My hands moved so fast, you’d think I was the grand marshal on a Pride float. I waved that flag like my life fucking depended on it, and I couldn’t seem to stop. “We’ll have a holiday party, then a soft launch before we open full-scale on January first and—”
“So you’re planning another party.”
I barreled on unthinking. “Definitely. Second street is pretty festive during the holidays, so it’ll be a good way to draw interest.”
“I see.” She enunciated the two words with cutting precision until they took on a life of their own.
“You seem…angry. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” she repeated, clearly exasperated. “I’m worried sick about you. That’s what’s wrong. You’ve spent critical post-college years on a culinary adventure culminating in a café you appear to not take seriously. You’re opening a business, Derek. Throwing parties isn’t going to get the job done. Where is your business plan? Your action items? Your five-year vision? I’d hoped to have a mature conversation with my adult son about his future today, but instead he’s drinking champagne, waving a gay flag, and hosting a raven!”
“Um, I think you mean rave. And no, I’m not hosting a party. Or maybe I am, but…” I took a deep breath and tried to choose my words carefully. “Mom, I am an adult. I haven’t gone into any of this lightly. Ask Gabe. I’ve overthought every little detail for months. This is just a case of getting our dates wrong.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She fished her keys from her designer bag and slipped a pair of large sunglasses onto her nose before leveling me with the dreaded, “I’m disappointed.”
“Mom…”
“I am. I’ve been worried about you for years. I hoped you were finally serious about your future. I never cared if you were gay or bisexual. I like Gabe and I thought he might even be a good influence. I’m not so sure anymore, and it scares me.”
“Because we had some friends over to help pre-demo the place?” I sputtered incredulously. “Mom, you’re getting worked up over a misunderstanding. And my relationship with Gabe has nothing to do with it.”
“Hmph. I don’t know what kind of establishment you’re really opening. Is this a queer place? Are you hanging that flag in the window? And if so, am I going to feel comfortable here? It’s a lot to process. And…you’re inebriated at