they are enabling him to be a lazy bum, and they’ll force him out one day.
“Is it serious?” my mom asks with an eager smile as she leans in a little. She was disappointed when I broke up with Terry because he was an attorney, and she envisioned little attorney grandbabies one day.
Of course, when I told her he cheated on me, she was ready to send Dad and Brian out with a baseball bat to handle the situation. I assured her it was handled with a book to the bridge of the nose, and my dad and brother beamed at me with pride.
Mom asks a good question, but I don’t have the answer.
Besides, “serious” is such a subjective term. I mean, I thought I was serious with Terry, but I wasn’t heartbroken over our relationship’s demise.
I like Cage so much better than I ever did Terry, yet it’s so new, I don’t know if I can say it’s serious. This past week, both of us were busy with work we only got to see each other twice. Cage more than made up for it by whisking me up north of Pittsburgh to a little rental cabin he found, and we had a blissful weekend together. There was a lot of relaxing, good food, and well… a lot of damn good sex.
We left there closer, I think. Not that we actually said words to that effect, but we were both regretful the weekend was over. We lamented our work schedules for the upcoming week before the Thanksgiving holiday. That must mean something, right?
Except… I never did ask Cage what he was doing for Thanksgiving. And he never asked me either, so it’s not serious to the point we would consider spending the holiday together.
So confusing.
I decide to be vague, hoping it satisfies. “It’s new, Mom. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks.”
“Well, invite him to have Thanksgiving dinner with us,” she demands.
I don’t argue with her. She’ll expect me to extend the invitation, although I’m not sure what Cage would think about it. We hadn’t talked about the upcoming holiday because I don’t think either of us is looking too far into the future at this point.
Luckily, the conversation actually steers to our Thanksgiving dinner, which is only four days away. We finish our meals, and I serve up the lemon cake. Mom and I have coffee with ours while Laney, Dad, and Brian drink beer with theirs.
So gross.
When it’s time to clean the kitchen, Brian starts to make a beeline for the basement, but I nab him by the arm. “You’re staying to help clean while Mom, Dad, and Laney go relax.”
“Why does Laney get to relax?” he asks. She has already darted out of the kitchen and into the living room to claim her favorite end of the couch. They’ll watch the current game until the Steelers start.
“Because you and I need to talk. Unless you want her to be privy to that, she gets a pass on the kitchen.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, and we both start putting the food into smaller Tupperware containers that I’m convinced were made in the seventies. Brian scrapes plates while I rinse them before they go into the dishwasher.
It’s only when we’re standing side by side at the kitchen sink, washing the pots and pans, that I start the conversation with Brian.
“You’re overdue paying me back the money I lent you,” I say quietly. I truly had no intention of letting anyone else in our family know I let him borrow it. It’s Brian’s private business, and I wouldn’t out him.
“I know,” he says with a sigh of frustration. “I’m having a hard time getting the guy who owes me money to pay up. It could be another few weeks.”
I just stare at him, my eyes hard with anger.
His shoulders sag. “I’m really sorry, Jaime.”
When Brian gives me that hangdog look, nine times out of ten, I’ll feel sorry for him. But not tonight.
I take the opportunity to tell him how I truly feel. Drying my hands on a dishtowel, I turn to face him and keep my voice low. “Brian… it’s time you grow up. You’re thirty-one years old, for God’s sake, and you live in your parents’ basement playing Xbox all day. You should have a full-time job, and, at the least, contribute to the household expenses here. Ideally, you should be out on your own and living your own life. Don’t you want that for yourself?”
Rather than look more