The Job (31 page)

“The
doctors are hopeful,” my mom says.

I
did kind of open the door for her on that one.

“Thank
you for the cola, dear,” my mom says and for a minute, she stares off at the
TV.

A
doctor comes in the room, but doesn’t say anything. He just checks her SATs and
walks back out again as quickly as he entered.

“When
I was Jessica’s age,” my mom tells Eric as she continues to stare at the
television screen, “I never thought that I was going to meet the right man.
Then,” she says, turning toward me, “your father came along.”

“That’s
very—” I start, but my mom isn’t done.

“Then
I
knew
I was never going to meet the
right man,” she howls.

Eric
and I look at each other uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for my mom to stop
laughing.

Finally,
she catches her breath and says, “Your sister was here earlier. Did you hear
that insect she’s been dating managed to slip one by the armed guards?”

Eric
cocks his head, not understanding, but my answer to my mom’s question clarifies
things well enough, “Yeah, she told me she’s pregnant.”

“Now,
there’s a grandchild I already know is going to need some counseling,” my mom
says. “It wouldn’t be so bad if your sister’s boyfriend wasn’t such a twat.”

“Mom!”
I exclaim and Eric quickly turns away, unable to hide the fact that his
shoulders are sharply moving up and down.

“He
is, dear,” my mom says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who’s that
high-strung, and I raised
you
for
crying out loud.”

“I
think your daughter is wonderful,” Eric says, finally able to contain himself.

“Which
one?” my mom asks. “The one that carrying twat seed or the one that’s so caught
up with work, she forgot to have a life?”

“I
planned on having a life when I was younger, Mom,” I tell her, “but you did a
pretty good job convincing me that nothing I ever did was going to be good
enough.”

I’d
hoped that the conversation wouldn’t devolve into this, but I really should
have known better. Even from her hospital bed, my mom’s still the queen of
nastiness.

“It
made you try harder, though, didn’t it?” my mom asks.

“It
made me feel like I couldn’t do anything right,” I tell her. “It made me think
that the best I could ever hope for was that a man would take pity on me and
save me from my own stupidity!”

“Now
dear,” my mom says, “do try to not raise your voice in front of the help.”

“The
help?!” I exclaim.

Eric’s
eyes are wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I
will have you know that this man is the best thing that’s happened to me in a
long time and no, I don’t know where our relationship’s going, but he’s a
decent person and he actually cares about me enough to try to help me feel
better when I’m worried about you and your bullshit!”

“So,
you think this is going to be it for you, do you?” she asks.

“That’s
way over the line,” I tell her. “He’s my boyfriend, and I’m not going to sit
here while you talk about him this way. Come on, Eric, we’re going.”

I
stand and march to the door, but a sound from my mother’s bed stops me in my
tracks.

Boiling,
I spin around to find her with a wide smile on her face and laughter coming out
of her throat.

“What
is so funny?” I ask.

“You
never did understand,” she says, laughing. “I’m not the demon you think me to
be, dear. Now sit back down and let’s talk for a minute.”

“I
don’t want to sit back down,” I tell her. “I’m glad the surgery went well, and
I hope you can get back home soon, but—”

“Jessica?”
Eric interrupts.

“What?!”
I yell, turning back toward him.

“I
think I get it,” he says.

“Get
what?” I ask.

“He’s
your boyfriend, dear,” my mom says behind me.

“I
hardly think that’s a call for you to make,” I start, but then it hits me.

My
mom just gives words to the thought, “Well, you said so yourself. Didn’t you?”

I
guess I did.

“Sometimes
people need a little pressure to realize what they want and what they feel,” my
mom says. “You
were
always a little
tougher to crack than your sister. It’s a good thing Eric’s here, otherwise you
might have just thought I was being cruel for the sake of being cruel. Say what
you want about how you feel, dear, but you just stood up for him in a pretty
profound way. You don’t usually do that sort of thing unless you really care
for someone.”

“Even
if that was your goal the whole time,” I tell her, “that doesn’t mean you have
the right to talk about people that way.”

“And
you’re still defending him,” my mom says and starts making kissing motions with
her mouth.

“Come
on,” I tell Eric and I storm out of the room.

He
follows me down the hall, but I’m to the elevator before he catches up.

“Are
you okay?” he asks.

“I
don’t know,” I answer. “I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m embarrassed—okay,
mostly I’m embarrassed.”

“There’s
nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I
know,” I tell him. “Well, I could have thought through introducing you to my
mother a little more carefully.”

“Hey,”
he says, “if nothing else, I think we just had the talk.”

I
look up him and, as the elevator doors open, he smiles and takes my hand.

“I
think I’d be okay with being your boyfriend,” he says.

“Romantic
as always,” I scoff and we get on the elevator.

Chapter
Eighteen

A
Constellation of Little Surprises

Eric

We
pull up to Jessica’s parents’ house and sit out front, the car still running.

“I
realize that we probably should have had that talk in private,” she says. “In
my defense, I kind of tried to do it before we got to the hospital.”

“It’s
all right,” I chuckle. “All things considered, I’m just glad it happened.”

I
lean over and slowly press my lips against hers, but only for a moment.

“I
have to warn you about my dad,” she says while looking into my eyes.

“You
know, your mom really wasn’t that bad and you warned me about her. I think I’ll
be all right,” I answer.

“She’s
the more overtly abrasive of the two, but my dad is by far more protective. I’m
just saying stay on your toes. He has a way of trapping you in an uncomfortable
situation before you’re even aware you’re in it,” she says.

“I’ll
just be my usual charming self,” I tell her. “That usually works pretty well
for me.”

“Yeah,
yeah,” she says. “Just remember that I warned you.”

I’m
not going to lie, I am a little nervous now, but I’m just here to help her
collect her things. We probably won’t even be here that long.

We
get out of the car and I follow Jessica up to the door.

“Just
think about everything you’re about to say before you say it,” she says.
“Better yet, think about everything my dad says before you decide to say
anything back.”

“Jessica,”
I tell her, “it’s going to be fine. I’ve met the guy before and he seemed nice
enough then.”

“Yeah,
that was before he got all curious about the nature of our relationship,” she
sighs. “Well, here we go,” she says and opens the front door.

We
walk in and she calls out to her dad, letting him know that we’re here.

“I’ll
be down in a minute!” he shouts back from somewhere upstairs. “I thought you
said you were going to call first!”

“Shit,”
she says. “I kind of forgot about that. My dad’s one of those guys who thinks
that boxers are appropriate attire in the home. The family’s used to it, but
just in case he comes around the corner with his gut hanging out, I just want
you to be prepared.”

“I’m
sure it’s endearing,” I tell her.

We
stand in the entryway, Jessica says to “minimize the chances of coming into
view of hanging brain,” and a few minutes later, there are footsteps coming
down the stairs.

“I
was already getting dressed when you came in,” her father says as he comes into
view, thankfully fully clothed. “Ah, Eric,” he says. “It’s nice to see you
again.”

“Nice
to see you again, too, sir,” I respond.

“You
didn’t tell her, did you?” he asks.

“I
did not,” I answer. “Your secret’s safe with me?”

“What
secret?” Jessica asks, turning alternately to me and then to her dad and back
to me while fidgeting with her watch.

“I
wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell her. “How are you doing tonight, sir?”

“Oh,
call me Harold,” he says. “Do you like cannabis?”

There’s
a question I didn’t expect.

“I
don’t know,” I tell him. “I can’t say that I’ve tried it.”

“Would
you like to?” he asks.

“Dad…”
Jessica moans.

“Right,”
Harold responds. “Well, you said you wanted to come by and pick up some stuff.
What did you need?”

“I
just wanted to grab some things from my closet,” Jessica says. “Eric’s going to
give me a hand—we really don’t have that much time.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that,” Harold says and turns to me. “Early morning tomorrow,
huh?”

“What?
No,” I answer.

Jessica
elbows me in the arm.

“What?”
I ask, turning toward her.

“We’re
just going to head upstairs real quick,” she says to her dad. “I’m sorry we
can’t stay longer.”

“Well,
maybe your friend here can keep me company while you’re upstairs getting things
together,” he says. “How does that sound, Eric?”

“That’s
fine with me,” I answer and Jessica elbows me again. “What?”

“I’m
going to need his help carrying stuff,” Jessica says. “Do you mind?”

Harold,
who had been standing at the bottom of the stairs, moves to one side so we can
walk past. I don’t know why Jessica was elbowing me, but assuming Harold
doesn’t follow us up the stairs, I plan to find out.

We
get to the room and, with Jessica’s dad still on the main level, I close the
door and ask, “What the hell were you elbowing me for?”

“The
second one was because you should know from what I was telling you that it’s
not a good idea for you and my dad to sit down and chat until you two get to
know one another better,” she says. “The first one, that’s because you
basically just told him that whatever our plans are tonight, we’re planning on
waking up together in the morning.”

“I
did not,” I defend and think back to the conversation, trying to piece together
how she could have gotten to that conclusion.

“Whatever,”
she says. “Let’s just grab the stuff and go before this gets any worse.”

She
walks over to the closed closet door and opens it.

“What
the fuck…?” she says in a half-whisper.

“What’s
wrong?” I ask, coming up behind her.

“They’re
gone,” she says, her voice shaky. “They’re all gone. They got rid of them.”

“Oh,
I’m sure they didn’t get rid of your stuff,” I tell her. “Why don’t we just ask
your dad if he knows where your boxes are and I’m sure he’ll know where to—”

“You
don’t know my mother,” she says. “I know you think she’s some brilliant,
altruistic woman who just happens to have a particularly grating technique of
proving her point, but she really is about the most hateful person I’ve ever
met. God, I feel like such a bitch saying that with her in the hospital.”

“Don’t
worry,” I tell her. “I’m sure they’ll turn up around here somewhere. Let’s just
go ask your dad.”

There’s
a particular reason that I want her to ask her dad about this, but I promised
him I wouldn’t give it away.

“You
don’t get it!” she says, tears welling up. “Every single thing I ever won,
every time I ever did anything I was proud of, that woman just kept knocking my
feet out from under me about it. I
told
her not to touch my boxes.”

“Jessica,”
I say, putting my hands on her shoulders, “let’s go talk to your dad.”

“What’s
the point?” she asks. “This is how everything is in my life, and it’s the way
it always will be. Every time I think I’m about to make some big stride,
something comes along and tears it away from me. I’m sorry I’m crying,” she
says, pulling a tissue from her purse. “I’m just so pissed off!”

I
don’t know how to put it any other way, so I just repeat, “Let’s go ask your
dad about it.”

“Will
you stop saying that?” she yells, but she finally notices the anticipation on
my expression. “What?” she asks. “What’s that face?”