“Hey. You’re the one who brought it up, not me.”
I give him my best glare. Truth hurts and all that. “Let’s go see what Grandma made you for an after school snack.”
“Yay!” Emmy jumps up and runs to the house, Bandit trailing after her happily.
I grab her things out of the pickup, knowing that we’ll have to come up with a rule that she makes sure to do it on her own in the future, and follow them into the house. Mom must have been on a baking binge today. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are lined up on a cooling rack, a pan of frosted brownies, blueberry strudel, and peanut butter blossoms litter the counter and table. Of course, she added in some sliced apples and cheese for something healthy.
“Wow!” Emmy’s eyes are wide as she takes everything in.
“Don’t expect this every day,” Mom tells her, gripping her shoulders and leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “But today’s special.”
“Wash your hands first,” I remind Emmy as she’s about to grab a cookie.
She groans but obeys.
Emmy tries one of everything after promising to eat a big dinner then jets off to play with Bandit outside.
“So much for her being tired.” I laugh, leaning back in my seat.
“Sugar cures that.”
“Well, she got plenty.”
“That’s what grandmas are for.”
“Not pole dancing?”
Mom doesn’t even blush. She just smiles widely and stands from her seat, doing a little shimmy that is now permanently imprinted on my brain.
“Seriously?”
“Hey. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up, not us,” Dad reminds me.
“There’s definitely something wrong with me, then.”
They laugh at my misery and I shove a cookie in my mouth so that I stop bringing up my mom and stripper poles in the same sentence.
“You know, your mom is a sexual…”
“Shut up. Shut up now.”
“Oh, Alan, stop. Pole dancing isn’t only sexual.”
“Only,” I scoff then shudder and eat another cookie. “Let’s just stop talking about it, please. For the love of your only child.”
Mom reaches over and gives me a hug. When she pulls away, the lighthearted joking of this session seems to be over and replaced with what I know is a conversation I don’t want to have. Rather than let them get started, I do it on my own.
“I’m fine, like I said earlier. I was surprised to see Sadie. Then surprised again when we ended up at the same place. She seems happy. I’m… mostly happy. She’ll be teaching Emmy dance, something that Emmy’s wanted to do for a long time, and life moves on. I’m moving on.” I fight against rolling my eyes at myself. If I say or think moving on one more time I might just punch myself.
“That’s it?” Dad asks.
“That’s it.”
Mom looks at me warily and Dad studies me closely. I don’t let them see the nerves that are building inside, though. I know it will be tough, but it will only be uncomfortable if we let it be. Which I’m not intending to do.
“She didn’t marry Billy.”
“Gathered that,” I grunt, annoyed that I care and she brought it up. How am I supposed to… nope, not even going to think it… but how am I supposed to do it if Mom is pro-Sadie. Which I know she is. Even when we were younger, she made it clear that she was more than okay with a Reed and Sadie relationship. After I met Katherine and it became clear to Mom and Dad that we were getting serious, Mom backed off. She embraced Katherine and loved her like a daughter.