Page 15 of Play Along With Me
"Harold and I have plans to start a spoon museum together," I deadpan. "We're registered at Williams-Sonoma."
She rolls her eyes. "You didn't even try."
"I tried! I asked thoughtful questions. I nodded at appropriate intervals. I refrained from mentioning that one guy's single nostril hair that was doing an interpretive dance every time he spoke."
"That's basic human decency, not trying," Leila says. "But I saw you taking mental notes all night. Getting material for your book?"
"Maybe," I admit. "Commemorative Spoon Guy might make an appearance."
"See? Not a wasted evening." She links her arm through mine. "And I met Greg, who is gorgeous and a pediatric surgeon and loves dogs."
"Of course he is, and of course he does," I sigh. "Why aren't guys like that ever at my table?"
"Because the universe wants you to expand your horizons," she says with infuriating cheerfulness. "Not everyone can be a pediatric surgeon with a golden retriever."
"I'd settle for 'has all his teeth and doesn't live with his mother,'" I mutter.
Leila laughs. "You love a man who loves his mother."
She's not wrong.
The next day brings a different kind of social torture: dinner with Evelyn Westfield, Daniel's mother.
Yes, I still have dinner with my ex-boyfriend's mother. No, it's not healthy. Yes, I'm aware this is probably material for at least three therapy sessions. But Evelyn has always been more of a mother to me than my own, and when she insisted on maintaining our monthly dinners even after Daniel and I broke up, I didn't have the heart to say no.
The fact that she vocally opposed Daniel's marriage to Janine doesn't hurt either.
We meet at Evelyn's favorite Italian restaurant in Back Bay, where she's already settled at our usual table, a glass of pinot grigio in hand.
"Audrey, darling!" she exclaims, rising to embrace me. She's elegant at sixty-two, with silver hair in a perfect bob and the kind of bone structure that makes aging look like an upgrade. "You look thin. Are you eating?"
"Hello to you too," I say, kissing her cheek. "And yes, I'm eating. Mostly ice cream, but it counts."
She pats the chair next to her. "Sit, sit. I've ordered the calamari to start. And more wine."
I slide into my seat, already bracing myself. Dinner with Evelyn is like being caught in a hurricane of information, opinions, and thinly veiled disapproval of her son's life choices.
"So," she begins, not even waiting for me to unfold my napkin, "they're back from the honeymoon."
"I heard," I say neutrally, as if I haven't been meticulously documenting their return via social media.
"A disaster from start to finish," she continues, taking a generous sip of wine. "Janine got seasick on the boat trip to their private island. Private island! In this economy! Daniel's father and I went to Cape Cod for our honeymoon and were perfectly content."
I make a noncommittal noise, wondering how Evelyn has this information. Does Daniel call his mother with honeymoon updates? Does she have a spy at the resort? Does she follow Janine's Pinterest boards?
"And then," she lowers her voice conspiratorially, "Daniel got a sunburn so bad he couldn't consummate the marriage for three days."
I choke on my water. "Evelyn! I really don't need to know that."
"I'm just saying," she shrugs, "it's not an auspicious beginning. And the photos! My god, the photos they keep posting. 'Blessed this' and 'grateful that.' In my day, we didn't need to announce our happiness to the world every five minutes."
The waiter arrives with our calamari, providing a brief reprieve from Evelyn's honeymoon report. I use the opportunity to down half my wine in one go.
"I just don't understand it," Evelyn continues once the waiter leaves. "They've known each other barely a year. You and Daniel were together for three years. Three years! You practically grew up together. You understand his humor, hisfamily—you even understand his ridiculous attachment to that hideous recliner."
"The Chair Monster," I say, smiling despite myself. Daniel's ancient leather recliner had been a source of constant debate throughout our relationship.
"Exactly! The Chair Monster. Janine made him get rid of it, you know. Said it didn't match their 'aesthetic.'" She says the word like it's something dirty she found on the bottom of her shoe.
