Page 39 of Man Seeking Woman

Cutting her off, I held my drink out as I spoke. "She was a model, Mom, not excentric."

"Well, she had that stupid hat, the one made of feathers and beads."

"It was part of the runway show she was doing, that's why we were sitting next to a stage, and all those other people were there. You knew that, you said you loved fashion."

"I do love fashion, real fashion, not whatever the hell that was." Waving me off, she rolled her eyes. "Either way, I still liked her."

"You hated her, because all she ate was salad and tofu, and you couldn't understand why she wore a bird on her head."

"That hat did look like a bird, and it just seemed like a waste of meat to watch her skip over anything that possibly had a head. I mean, you have a head, did she have any trouble eating you?"

Dropping my head into my hand, I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. "Mom," I said, not wanting to dive at all into my sex life. Especially, not with my mother. "I'm not answering that."

"I'm just saying, it was a little weird." Smirking, my mother glanced down at her nails, and began to rub the polish with the pad of her thumb. "But Michelle, Michelle was perfect for you." Holding up her hand, she kept her eyes on the bright red paint, twisting her hand side to side.

"Do I really need to remind you that you hated Michelle too? You didn't like that she dyed her hair blonde, you said she was trying too hard to be the millenial version of Marilynn Monroe."

"I would never say something like that, August." Her lips pursed as she tucked her chin into her chest and gave me an agitated look. "I liked her, and I certainly don't need you trying to convince me otherwise."

"It doesn't matter, because I didn't like her. And I honestly don't think you'll ever like anyone I bring home."

"Don't be so cruel, August, I'm sorry if I think you deserve better than a cocain thin animal hoarder. The woman had six cats, August—six.Four more and she'd be your grandmother." Folding one arm over the other, she pinched the stem of the glass as she turned and walked into my livingroom. "You think you know everything, but let me tell you something, women are pigs just like men. How do you know this girl—"

"Ella, her name is Ella."

"What kind of name is that anyway? Was she raised in a cornfield. . ." she asked out loud, but I knew she wasn't really looking for an answer. That was her way of justifying her decision and our position in society. That single comment placed us on a pedestal and the rest of the world beneath us. Squeezing her lips tighter, she jerked her eyes in my direction. "How do you know this girl isn't just trying to get your money?"

If you only knew. . .

"Because she's not."

Sucking down the last sip of her drink, she placed the glass on the coffee table and looked around. "Where's Valerie?"

"I gave her a few days off."

"You what? Why would you do that? Who's going to clean for you?"

Stepping to the table, I picked up the glass. "This might surprise you, but I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up after myself. You know most people don't have a maid." Walking into the kitchen, I sat the glass in the sink.

"Ugh," she groaned, rolling her eyes as if I had just insulted her. "I don't even know where you came from sometimes."

"Me either," I said under my breath.

"So, when is she moving in?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? August, this just doesn't seem like you."

Cocking a brow, I asked, "And what do you have to compare that with? Me at eleven? Or me at sixteen? Because those are the only times I really remember you being around at all."

"It's complicated, your father didn't make things easy."

Nodding, I frowned. "Conviently blame him, he can't disagree with you."

"You know your father, August, and you know the company he kept. Can you blame me for being a little vacant over the years? Your father went through women like he changed underwear. Which is why I'm worried about her intentions."

"This one is different, Mom, she's not like any of the girls Dad dated, or any of the ones I've dated. I really like her."

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