because if you wanted to know about your grandparents, you should call them yourself, something it seems you have absolutely no interest in doing."
My face heated up and anger bubbled in my stomach. Gee, I wonder why I didn't like to call my grandparents, a woman who made my mother seem warm in comparison and a man so senile that I had to reintroduce myself every three minutes.
The food came out before I got too hot and bothered. My small salad sat in front of me looking very small and very salady (not that I minded salad, I just would've liked to choose it myself). My mother's veal dish bubbled and it looked like there were enough calories for a week in it, but I didn't think that would be very kind to point out.
We ate without talking, without looking at each other, really. My salad disappeared pretty quickly considering it was made up of about three pieces of lettuce, a few julienned pieces of carrot, and a slice of cucumber. Bunny sipped and blew on her meal, not even touching the main part of it before I was finished with mine.
She raised her eyebrows and gave me a pointed look. "You really should slow down, Sunny. You're never going to get a boy interested in you if you're always cramming food down your gullet," she said and went back to picking at her meal.
Gullet? Since when was I some sort of large bird or hippopotamus? I narrowed my eyes at her and fumed as I sipped my water. That's pretty much what I did for the next fifteen minutes while she sipped at and complained about her food. I guess it doesn't matter how many calories are in the food if you never actually eat any of it.
The very worst part came when she began putting pieces on a plate and hand feeding them to Vaughn. The people sitting around us whispered and rolled their eyes. I wanted to die.
At that point I decided that this was absolutely no use and said, "Well, I should really get back to work."
My mother looked up and smiled, but didn't say it was nice to see me because we would've both known it was a lie.
"Thanks for lunch. I'll let you two finish," I said and went to stand up.
The look on my mother's face stopped me. Her forehead wrinkled and she leaned forward. "Oh no, dear. You asked me to lunch. It's your treat. That is, if we're following correct etiquette." She smiled.
My heart dropped to the bottom of my gut. What? After she ordered a ton for herself and nothing for me? I tried hard to breathe deep and keep myself from reaching across the table and shaking her. I smiled back and said, "Sure." Then I took out my wallet, got the waiter's attention, and gave him my card, even though my mother hadn't ever worked a day in her life and made more interest in one month than I made in a year.
I signed the ridiculously expensive receipt for our lunch and waved goodbye as I left, adding yet another anecdote to the "give up" column of the list I kept in my heart about my relationship with my mother.
9
The lunch with my mother affected my mood in the days that followed more than I wanted to admit, but I tried to focus on the good things that were happening in my life. Plus, I still had to find my Green Shoe Guy, so I turned my attention back to him.
Each following day dragged until lunch when I would get a chance to look for him and then slowed to a crawl after I got back to work, while I waited until the day would finally be over and I could see my friends (Anna and Lizzy and I were getting pretty close, too, after seeing each other each day during yoga and at the tea shop).
As for the guy, I practiced and practiced a good twenty phrases like Tim had taught me that I could say to him once I found him. I really would be ready. Even though the waiting and wanting of things made my days feel turtle-speed, weeks went by and, before I knew it, a month had passed since my green shoe in the road vision.
That morning marked the thirty-second day and the now-it's-been-more-than-a-month since I'd seen him reality settled in. Maybe
My face heated up and anger bubbled in my stomach. Gee, I wonder why I didn't like to call my grandparents, a woman who made my mother seem warm in comparison and a man so senile that I had to reintroduce myself every three minutes.
The food came out before I got too hot and bothered. My small salad sat in front of me looking very small and very salady (not that I minded salad, I just would've liked to choose it myself). My mother's veal dish bubbled and it looked like there were enough calories for a week in it, but I didn't think that would be very kind to point out.
We ate without talking, without looking at each other, really. My salad disappeared pretty quickly considering it was made up of about three pieces of lettuce, a few julienned pieces of carrot, and a slice of cucumber. Bunny sipped and blew on her meal, not even touching the main part of it before I was finished with mine.
She raised her eyebrows and gave me a pointed look. "You really should slow down, Sunny. You're never going to get a boy interested in you if you're always cramming food down your gullet," she said and went back to picking at her meal.
Gullet? Since when was I some sort of large bird or hippopotamus? I narrowed my eyes at her and fumed as I sipped my water. That's pretty much what I did for the next fifteen minutes while she sipped at and complained about her food. I guess it doesn't matter how many calories are in the food if you never actually eat any of it.
The very worst part came when she began putting pieces on a plate and hand feeding them to Vaughn. The people sitting around us whispered and rolled their eyes. I wanted to die.
At that point I decided that this was absolutely no use and said, "Well, I should really get back to work."
My mother looked up and smiled, but didn't say it was nice to see me because we would've both known it was a lie.
"Thanks for lunch. I'll let you two finish," I said and went to stand up.
The look on my mother's face stopped me. Her forehead wrinkled and she leaned forward. "Oh no, dear. You asked me to lunch. It's your treat. That is, if we're following correct etiquette." She smiled.
My heart dropped to the bottom of my gut. What? After she ordered a ton for herself and nothing for me? I tried hard to breathe deep and keep myself from reaching across the table and shaking her. I smiled back and said, "Sure." Then I took out my wallet, got the waiter's attention, and gave him my card, even though my mother hadn't ever worked a day in her life and made more interest in one month than I made in a year.
I signed the ridiculously expensive receipt for our lunch and waved goodbye as I left, adding yet another anecdote to the "give up" column of the list I kept in my heart about my relationship with my mother.
9
The lunch with my mother affected my mood in the days that followed more than I wanted to admit, but I tried to focus on the good things that were happening in my life. Plus, I still had to find my Green Shoe Guy, so I turned my attention back to him.
Each following day dragged until lunch when I would get a chance to look for him and then slowed to a crawl after I got back to work, while I waited until the day would finally be over and I could see my friends (Anna and Lizzy and I were getting pretty close, too, after seeing each other each day during yoga and at the tea shop).
As for the guy, I practiced and practiced a good twenty phrases like Tim had taught me that I could say to him once I found him. I really would be ready. Even though the waiting and wanting of things made my days feel turtle-speed, weeks went by and, before I knew it, a month had passed since my green shoe in the road vision.
That morning marked the thirty-second day and the now-it's-been-more-than-a-month since I'd seen him reality settled in. Maybe
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