Mr. Right, everything blew up in my face in a very horrifying and public display of greed and dishonesty that threatened to destroy my company. Thank God it didn’t. “I’ll find my Mr. Right.”
“Sounds to me like you need different toads in your pool.” Lindsey tries not to smile as she leans forward and tunes in to a country music station.
Smart-ass. I don’t have any toads, and I’m not searching for any, either. Which is another difference between Mom and me: she’s still on the hunt to restock her pond.
Even though the love guru business is booming, I’ve privately taken myself off the market. No one knows that quite a few of the “dates” I’ve written and spoken about for the past three years have been fictional—not even Margie. I’m thirty-eight, and a lot of men my age want younger women. Men older than me have baggage that I don’t want to deal with. Fiction is easier than real life.
The trip to the mattress store that should have taken thirty minutes takes almost an hour, and I’m worried it’ll be closed by the time we arrive. An hour of Lindsey singing along to the radio (I’ve heard better noise coming from a pissed-off cat) and the back-seat driver yelling, “You’re kinking up my neck!”
Patience, I tell myself. Mom doesn’t mean to annoy me.
“Turn right,” the navigation system directs, but I’m busy trying to make out the names of streets and almost overshoot the intersection.
“Where are we going?” Mom asks, her tone growing more agitated by the minute.
I don’t blame her. I’m agitated, too. “To the mattress store,” I remind her so patiently I should get an award.
“I already got a mattress.”
“You need a new one to fit Great-grandmother’s bed.”
“I want the mattress that’s on it.”
I repeat my earlier lie. “It got thrown out.” I glance at her in the rearview mirror and feel like her parent. “If you want that bed, you have to get a new mattress.”
Our gazes meet and her eyes are sad. “Momma was born in that bed.”
“Turn right in three hundred feet, then proceed one mile to West Gonzales.” I return my gaze to the road, slow down, and manage the right turn. “Maybe you can find one that massages your back.”
“Or I’ll get one of those adjustable mattresses like Earl has,” Mom says, kind of grumpy.
Earl’s Craftmatic isn’t a memory I want stuck in my head for the rest of my life, and I quickly change the subject. “We have to let Raphael out of his cage for a bit when we get back.”
“Earl’s mattress was perfect for spooning.”
Well, it could be worse.
“And sweet love.”
Damn it. I jinxed myself.
Lindsey’s screechy-cat singing comes to a sudden halt, and we look at each other, eyes bugging out, ears ringing from the trauma we’ve just endured. Mom might wear lipstick and the latest in jogging couture, but under it all, she’s sporting a big droopy bra, black-lace thong over her Attends, and geriatric compression shocks. Lindsey makes a distressed sound and shakes her head. I just shrug.
“Make a U-turn, then proceed to the route.” Crap, I overshot the turn like before, but this time I hear a hint of judgment in the navigator’s sugary tone.
“Earl’s a better driver,” Mom says again, as if trying to see if I’ll snap.
“Make a right turn, then proceed to the route.” I’m in the wrong lane to turn. “Proceed to the route.”
“Why does that woman keep saying that?” asks the other woman in the car who likes to repeat things.
“We’re lost,” Lindsey piles on.
“We’re not lost.” I point to the map. “We’re almost back on the blue line.”
We make it to the mattress store as the manager is locking the front doors. I yell at him through the glass to please open, and I promise to buy three mattresses if he lets us in. Luckily, greed rules the day.
The store is like a warehouse, and Mom has to check out practically every mattress. She lies on her back and stomach, then flops from side to side like a fish before moving to the next one. I don’t tell myself things could get worse. I try not to even think about it.
After much flopping by both Lindsey and Mother, I make an executive decision to order three Sealy queen-plus Posturepedics. I love a good pillow-top, and, just as important, they are in stock and can be delivered tomorrow.
We buy a bunch of bedding and load up the back of the Escalade. I figure