Hound Dog & Bean by B.G. Thomas

father slaved over that grill….”
    Hardly, but Bean knew better than to contradict her. Unless… “Mom, we know it was all your doing. You and I both know that.”
    She laughed joyfully, and he could see her in his mind, throwing her head back and waving her hand through the air in an oh-it-was-nothing gesture.
    “True, true. But let’s pretend it wasn’t. And didn’t Muriel McKenna — wasn’t it nice to break bread with her? She looks good for a woman with”—and then whispering—“cancer” as if it were a rude word, or perhaps simply saying it could make her susceptible to the disease.
    “Yes, Mom. She did look good.”
    “Speaking of looking good, what about that Sloan? He sure grew up into something handsome, didn’t he?”
    Well, don’t get me wrong, Dean, but… you’re not really my type.
    “Yes, Mom. He did. Is. Does. Whatever.” Bean didn’t want to talk about Sloan.
    “So, are you going to….” She paused then yelled, “Yes, Father! I’m asking him now!” Bean had to hold the phone away from his head. How could the woman be a bank president and socialite? “Are you going to ask him out?”
    “What?” he asked, now that he could put his cell back to his ear.
    “ Sloan , dearest. Are you going to ask him on a date?”
    “I’m not his type,” Bean said, deciding not to play the game and just nip things in the bud.
    “You’re what? Oh, nonsense. You don’t know that. How could you not be his type? You’re gorgeous.”
    “He told me, Mom.”
    “He what? He told…? I see. Well—” There was a pause as she carefully considered what to say. Bean knew this. He knew his mother, even if she only knew him incompletely. She was far too busy a woman—always had been, and probably always would. He, on the other hand, had studied her like a scientist when she gave him her time. When she did, the time was pretty extraordinary. Museums, observatories, staying up one night to watch a complete lunar eclipse (she called his school the next morning so he wouldn’t have to go in), observing a Monarch butterfly emerge from its cocoon—all those things and more had been a part of his growing up years. There had been trips to Alaska and the Grand Canyon, Paris, and London, not to forget El Salvador, where he had seen his first coffee plantation.
    Few kids had such a childhood. He knew to be thankful for the experiences. But somehow he would have been happy with the two of them simply doing something as uncomplicated as baking peanut butter cookies.
    “Well dear, you’ll find someone,” she was saying.
    “Sure, Mom.”
    “You will .”
    “I know.” Then he thought of H.D., which was silly, he knew, because how many times had he said he didn’t need anyone, let alone a boyfriend? Hadn’t he been thinking it… was it yesterday? But still…. The image of H.D.’s smile came to mind, and Bean was grinning foolishly to himself.
    “When are we going to see you again?”
    Strange, now that he was grown, how much time his mother had for him. He thought maybe his mother had never known what to do with a child. She had always treated him like he was an adult. Which was why—in the end—she had accepted his bizarre choice (to her) of opening a coffee shop.
    “No, Father!” She was yelling again. His dad was almost assuredly downstairs in his man-cave. “He’s not going to ask Sloan out… Well, because Sloan isn’t his type.”
    Bean smiled. Of course she’d decided to report the story that way.
    “Mom?”
    “Yes, darling one.”
    “Speaking of the next time you see me…. I don’t want to alarm you, but you might be a little shocked.”
    “Did you finally shave? You know I hate that you cover your handsome face—”
    “No, Mom. The beard is still there. But I have two black eyes.”
    She laughed again. “Yes, Dean. And I got my nose pierced.”
    He chuckled but then set her straight. “Mom. I really did have my eyes blacked.”
    “You’re serious.” It was a statement and