Page 78 of Man Seeking Woman

“Oh, no, my mother lives in Greenwich.”

“Ah, that part of Connecticut is beautiful, we almost bought a home there when August was young.”

“Oh no, not Old Greenwich, East Greenwich, it's in Rhode Island.”

“Mm,” Fran grumbled, her expression falling flat as she tried to figure out if I was one of them.

Did I belong in her home? Was it alright for us mingle like friends, or should we be arms distance like enemies?

“So your family, would I know any of them? You said your last name was what?”

“Day, Ella Day.”

“Day. . .” Her eyes went to the ceiling, mouth crinkling and rocking back and forth. “Are you related to the Day's out of Denver?”

“I don't think so. My father was an only child, and most of our family is from New England.”

Raising two fingers in the air, Fran called out, “Nathan, Nathan can you come in here, please.”

A slender man came in, holding his arms behind his back. Opening his mouth as if he was about to speak, Fran cut in first. “Nathan, can you please bring in the bottle of Chateau Petrus I've been saving.” Smiling, she walked with both her arms partially up, hands folded like a raptor. “This is the perfect night to indulge.”

“Mom, you don't need to do that. We can just drink what you already have open, or a bottle from the batch Dad made years ago if you want to indulge.”

“August, honey, I'm meeting your girlfriend, the girl who I've heard nothing about and yet she moved in already. That must mean she's pretty special. When you choose silence over telling your mother, it deserves a certain recognition, don't you think?”

“You're right, she is special,” he said, curling an arm around my waist.

“So special,” her voice faded for a moment as she tapped a finger against her lip. “That the newspaper thinks she's pregnant, yet, you claim she's not. So special, she's living with you, and I never knew she existed until last week. But she's not pregnant. I don't know, August, that seems really strange if you ask me.”

“No one asked you—at least, I know I didn't.” August wasn't intimidated by his mother and she seemed like she could be a really difficult woman to please. I already felt extremely small and I had only been in her presence for five minutes. “I thought we came for dinner, but if all you're going to do is question my choices, then we'll leave. We don't need to stay, and I certainly don't need your approval.”

Veering her stare, Fran turned on her heels and started walking. “Dinner should be ready anytime now, we can go sit at the table.”

Following her through her enormous home, I was blown away by the fancy decorations and expensive handcrafted furniture. Everything looked like it had been flown in from another country or made specifically just for her.

But I did notice one thing, there wasn't one picture of August, old or young. Or any pictures of the two of them together at any stage of their lives. The home lacked any family warmth, that feeling you would get when you walked into a home and could tell it had been lived in.

If this was how he lived, August must have had a very boring childhood.

I couldn't imagine she'd let him run wild through the halls, possibly getting tauntingly close to her crystal encrusted, hand carved giraffe that was standing against the wall in the far side of her living room, or the Andy Warhol she had hanging in her hallway.

The dining room was elegant, with a long ten person table and intricately designed chairs with arms and velvet seating. A giant glass vase sat in the center, filled with roses and baby breaths. Each seat had a place setting, fitted with a small plate and bowl, napkin and silverware.

We had come from two different worlds. I ran around in the woods, climbing trees and getting dirty. I went fishing, camping, chased fireflies and frogs. I'd play the cello until my fingers bled and my mother told me to take a rest.

August learned how to tie a tie, he wore suits and was taught how to carry himself in front of prying eyes. He was born in the sea, while I was born in a pond.

We were never meant to meet, we were never meant to find each other.

Fran went and sat at the head of the table. She took her seat like a queen, letting her arms fall with grace onto the arms of the chair, her back seemingly elongating like a snake climbing a tree.

She had gone from this older, matured looking woman into a powerful force that I was suddenly afraid of. She looked like she had the power to destroy me with one look, one word, one snap of her fingers.

Nathan came to her side, pouring her a glass of red wine, then moved between August and myself, filling our cups.

Fran didn't say a word as she studied me suspiciously, lifting the glass and swirling the liquor under her nose.

“So, what's on the menu for tonight?” August asked, resting his hand on my thigh and giving me a reassuring squeeze.

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