“He gets out of every scrape, always did and always did it on his own. Though it’ll take some kind of woman to live a life like that, knowing what he’s like, knowing the risks he takes.”
Her hand went to my knee and she squeezed it.
“Not anyone here would think less of you if you aren’t that woman. I’m telling you because it’s true. We all love you both and we’ll always love you both, no matter what happens between you.” She stopped, sighed and continued. “Anyway, I don’t even know if that kind of woman exists. I’m his mother, I’ve lived with him surviving scrapes that would make your hair stand on end and I worry about him every day, he scares the hell out of me.”
I didn’t want my hair standing on end, that was true. It didn’t sound like a good look.
I also didn’t want to think of any other woman being the kind of woman who blithely accepted Lee’s Death Cheating Margin of Error and therefore being the one he came home to every night. And lastly, I didn’t want the family not thinking less of me because I threw over Lee because I was a sissy. I was no sissy. Lee may be scary but not that scary. I could out-margin-of-error-acceptance any bitch that came along.
“I’m gonna get the brownies,” I told Kitty Sue.
She patted my knee. I got up and went straight to Lee.
He was sitting in a lawn chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, Hank, Malcolm and Ally sitting with him. He watched me cross the lawn and didn’t move a muscle.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer but got up. He followed me through the sliding glass door and into the kitchen. I slid the door shut behind us and turned to him.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked.
He crossed his arms on his chest. He didn’t answer me but I guessed that was a yes.
I tried to cute my way out of it and flashed him a tilty-head smile.
“What’ll it take for you to get un-mad at me?”
He didn’t answer.
Okay, that didn’t work.
I sighed and threw up my hands. “It was never Hank, it would never be Hank. Hank is not even a possibility.”
“For Christ’s sake, stop talking about Hank,” he exploded, taking my hand and pulling me deeper into the house and out of eyesight and earshot of everyone in the backyard.
“What is it then?” I asked his back when he stopped in the living room.
“Think about it,” he answered after he turned.
“I don’t want to think about it, if I knew what it was, I’d already be explaining it or apologizing for it. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“I’m not tellin’ you.”
“Oh for f**k’s sake!” I yelled. “How can I make things better if I don’t even know what I did wrong?”
“Forget about it. I’m not angry with you anymore.”
“Yes you are,” I countered.
“No,” he said in his scary voice, “I’m not.”
“Boy, are you moody. You’re the most moody guy I’ve ever met.”
“If you really want to make things better, you could start by not talkin’ about all the men of your acquaintance. That would help.”
I gasped.
“You make me sound like a slut!”