Page 3 of The Lovers
Breezy as a motherfucking summer day, baby.
?They didn’t respond to my correction of the reservation with even a sideways glance. Mom was on her phone, typing like mad and ignoring the world. Dad was glaring straight at her like his stare could light her hair on fire.
We’re seated at one of the Polo Lounge’s iconic booths. The cushions are covered in deco-inspired lime-green palms, tucked into a pink stucco alcove that overlooks the lush patio. I take my seat on one end of the curved bench, and Mom and Dad slide into the other side, keeping a notable distance from each other.
The empty water glasses wink, taunting me. Panic makes me parched. Like a killer hangover or the end of a cardio blast.
I distract myself by perusing the menu, even if we always start with the same thing. Pink sangria and ceviche for Dad and me, and farmers market seasonal fruit for the vegetarian Mom. Our waiter arrives to pour the waters—bless his soul! I gulp down the whole glass. The cold liquid cuts through the heat spreading across my chest cavity like a wildfire.
“You need a second to look over the menu?” our waiter, Gary—per his name tag—asks. “Or are you ready to get this party started?”
“Any special apps we should know about?” Mom asks, leaning forward to beam up at Gary from what I’m sure she thinks is an optimal angle. Dad’s mouth twitches. He covers the move with the rim of his glass, gulping deep.
Five years we’ve been doing this birthday brunch. Five years and the only thing that has changed has been my plus-one.
“Sick of your old standby?” Dad says through a loud crunch of ice between his teeth. Dad never crunches ice. Teeth are his livelihood, and he’s a stickler for healthy dental practices of all varieties.
“I could recommend the artisanal bread and butter, a new butter flavor every week,” Gary replies. “Something we’re trying out on the menu this fall.”
“That would be scrummy,” Mom says, closing her menu.Scrummy?Jesus Christ, is she about to have a stroke? I have never heard her use the wordscrummyin my whole life.
“Ceviche and a pitcher of pink sangria,” Dad adds. He leaves Mom’s fruit off, and she doesn’t correct him. And with that, Gary is gone.
Mom exhales, leaning back against the booth. Only now, for the first time since arriving, do I see her eyes trail to either side of me in search of my plus-one.
“David couldn’t make it, Kitten?” She pouts, reaching for my hand and squeezing. “Next time.”
Just rip the Band-Aid, baby.
“There won’t be a next time.” Both of their gazes fix on mine. “We broke up a couple days ago. I moved out of his place.”Took my two suitcases, Himalayan salt lamp, and bounced.“I need to crash in the pool house if that’s oka—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dad exclaims. “I can’t take this anymore. Tell her or I will.”
Mom’s face stiffens. “We agreed to wait until after everything was finalized.” Her lips are tight as she replies, and not just from the fillers.
“Fine,” Dad says, nostrils flaring. He turns back to me, yanking his wire rims off dramatically. “Your mother is leaving me for a thirty-two-year-old British chippie she met coaching!”
My heart rate skyrockets.
Scrummymakes a hell of a lot more sense now.
My hands ball into tiny fists, which I shove into the fabric of the booth cushion.
“Chippie?” The word is the only question I can muster.
“She’s incredible,” Mom says. “So ambitious, so driven.”
She???
Mom pulls out her phone and starts trying to show me the picture of her hot, barely-older-than-me girlfriend by swiping through an album on her phone titled “Lover.”
I need a bag to barf into.
She’s got wavy brown hair, tan skin, deep brown eyes, and a crooked but cute smile. I don’t know what is more shocking, the fact that this album has hundreds of photos in it—some of which feature Mom and this woman kissing, snuggling, generally canoodling—or the fact that Mom is acting like this over a woman when I had no idea she was into women at all.
My brain immediately glitches and I seeherface. Ten years ago, cheekbones already sharp, aquamarine eyes bright, lips pink and swollen from kissing.
No, not a chance. I willnotthink about her right now.
