looks back at Eric. “I didn’t think you’d know who she was,” he mutters, rubbing his head.
I smooth the front of my robe. “I mentioned to Alex that I used to be a concert pianist of some reputation, but it appears he didn’t believe me.”
“Yes, I did,” he protests. “I even went to the library and listened to one of your recordings the other day. I meant to tell you how much I liked it but I forgot.”
That surprises me even more than Eric knowing who I am. I didn’t think Alex had any curiosity about me at all.
Eric suddenly slaps his forehead. “I’m so stupid. You’re Professor Donovan’s mom, right?”
I should have seen this coming. It always does.
I nod stiffly. “I’m afraid so.”
He chews on his lip. “Wow. Then that means her dad must be … holy shit.” He looks thunderstruck.
And here we are again.
“I couldn’t have said it any better myself.” Frost creeps into my voice. “Caitlin’s father is indeed the magnificent Arthur Donovan.” I inspect my fingernails before continuing. “Although I’m personally convinced that Caitlin was implanted in my womb by a hostile alien. One of these years I’m going to insist on a DNA test to prove it.”
Eric laughs, unfazed by the bitterness in my tone. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He shakes his head again. “What a trip. My writing teacher’s parents are Hester Parker and Arthur Donovan. I can’t believe I’ve never made that connection before. I knew you guys lived in Bolton, but …”
He rattles on and on, but the mention of Arthur and Caitlin has stolen most of the pleasure out of his flattery. He eventually seems to notice I’m not saying anything else and slowly trails off under my quiet inspection.
He looks at the floor, uncomfortable. “Well, anyway, my folks will freak out when I tell them,” he finishes lamely.
There’s an awkward silence, and he squats to put on his shoes in a hurry. I look down at the top of his head, feeling an unexpected sense of remorse for quashing his enthusiasm. I should apologize for my manners, but I don’t know what to say; it seems lately that every conversation I have ends on a sour note.
Except with my new tenant, for some reason.
I glance over at Alex as this occurs to me, and I catch him watching me with a thoughtful expression.
I force a smile. “Do you see those unusual cloth garments your friend has on his feet, dear?” I ask. “Those are called ‘socks,’ and you wear them inside your shoes. Perhaps Eric will be kind enough to show you how to put some on, if you ask nicely.”
He smiles back at me. He’s all dressed now, except for his feet. “I would, but I don’t own any.”
I sigh in mock exasperation, glad to be speaking about something besides my family. “Oh yes, I forgot. You were a homeless, naked orphan when I found you on my porch.”
Eric laughs and stands up, at ease again. “That sounds about right.” He jabs Alex in the ribs. “I’ll take you to the Salvation Army later, if you want. Mrs. Parker’s right, buddy. Your wardrobe could really use an update.”
Alex scowls at him. “Is that where you got that classy Bugs Bunny shirt you’re wearing under your coat?”
He grins. “Ha. You’re even funnier than you look.” He holds out his fist for Alex to hit with his own, which seems to be their generation’s equivalent of a firm handshake. “So I’ll see you on campus this afternoon?”
Alex nods.
“Cool.” He gives Alex a quick hug, startling him.
I watch Alex’s face over Eric’s shoulder as he hugs him back; he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, as if he’s inhaling the other boy’s scent.
Eric releases Alex and turns to face me. “It was awesome meeting you, Mrs. Parker. This is probably rude to ask, but if I bring over some of my mom and dad’s old record albums, do you think I could get you to sign them?”
“Of course, child. I’d be delighted.” I pause. “But only after you return my brandy.”
He
I smooth the front of my robe. “I mentioned to Alex that I used to be a concert pianist of some reputation, but it appears he didn’t believe me.”
“Yes, I did,” he protests. “I even went to the library and listened to one of your recordings the other day. I meant to tell you how much I liked it but I forgot.”
That surprises me even more than Eric knowing who I am. I didn’t think Alex had any curiosity about me at all.
Eric suddenly slaps his forehead. “I’m so stupid. You’re Professor Donovan’s mom, right?”
I should have seen this coming. It always does.
I nod stiffly. “I’m afraid so.”
He chews on his lip. “Wow. Then that means her dad must be … holy shit.” He looks thunderstruck.
And here we are again.
“I couldn’t have said it any better myself.” Frost creeps into my voice. “Caitlin’s father is indeed the magnificent Arthur Donovan.” I inspect my fingernails before continuing. “Although I’m personally convinced that Caitlin was implanted in my womb by a hostile alien. One of these years I’m going to insist on a DNA test to prove it.”
Eric laughs, unfazed by the bitterness in my tone. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He shakes his head again. “What a trip. My writing teacher’s parents are Hester Parker and Arthur Donovan. I can’t believe I’ve never made that connection before. I knew you guys lived in Bolton, but …”
He rattles on and on, but the mention of Arthur and Caitlin has stolen most of the pleasure out of his flattery. He eventually seems to notice I’m not saying anything else and slowly trails off under my quiet inspection.
He looks at the floor, uncomfortable. “Well, anyway, my folks will freak out when I tell them,” he finishes lamely.
There’s an awkward silence, and he squats to put on his shoes in a hurry. I look down at the top of his head, feeling an unexpected sense of remorse for quashing his enthusiasm. I should apologize for my manners, but I don’t know what to say; it seems lately that every conversation I have ends on a sour note.
Except with my new tenant, for some reason.
I glance over at Alex as this occurs to me, and I catch him watching me with a thoughtful expression.
I force a smile. “Do you see those unusual cloth garments your friend has on his feet, dear?” I ask. “Those are called ‘socks,’ and you wear them inside your shoes. Perhaps Eric will be kind enough to show you how to put some on, if you ask nicely.”
He smiles back at me. He’s all dressed now, except for his feet. “I would, but I don’t own any.”
I sigh in mock exasperation, glad to be speaking about something besides my family. “Oh yes, I forgot. You were a homeless, naked orphan when I found you on my porch.”
Eric laughs and stands up, at ease again. “That sounds about right.” He jabs Alex in the ribs. “I’ll take you to the Salvation Army later, if you want. Mrs. Parker’s right, buddy. Your wardrobe could really use an update.”
Alex scowls at him. “Is that where you got that classy Bugs Bunny shirt you’re wearing under your coat?”
He grins. “Ha. You’re even funnier than you look.” He holds out his fist for Alex to hit with his own, which seems to be their generation’s equivalent of a firm handshake. “So I’ll see you on campus this afternoon?”
Alex nods.
“Cool.” He gives Alex a quick hug, startling him.
I watch Alex’s face over Eric’s shoulder as he hugs him back; he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, as if he’s inhaling the other boy’s scent.
Eric releases Alex and turns to face me. “It was awesome meeting you, Mrs. Parker. This is probably rude to ask, but if I bring over some of my mom and dad’s old record albums, do you think I could get you to sign them?”
“Of course, child. I’d be delighted.” I pause. “But only after you return my brandy.”
He
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