“What about Chinese? That goes in and an hour later, it’s gone.”
“Sounds good. I’d love some chicken lo mein.”
“How’s your mother?” he asked.
“I spoke to her today. She’s hanging in there.”
“Great!”
“I also talked to her counselor for a few minutes.”
“And?”
“He said every day’s a struggle for Momma. She’s not used to having her time regulated and being told what to do.” That was an understatement if I’d ever heard one. I could picture Momma down there raising holy hell when someone told her to get up at 7 A.M. for breakfast. She probably hadn’t seen the sunrise in a decade. The discipline was good for her; she needed it.
“Well, at the end of the day, she’ll be much better off.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said. “The next thing I need to do is get her a better job. The one she has is depressing.”
“Any thoughts?”
“Yes, a few. I spoke to a friend of mine from college who runs an accounting firm in Birmingham. Momma can’t crunch numbers but my friend, Brook, said she might be able to use her for filing or mild typing.”
“That’s cool.”
“If that doesn’t work out, Brook knows a lot of business owners, through networking, who might be able to help out.”
We’d made it down the street to Yardley’s car. As he unlocked the door, he said, “Mom wants to know when you want to go select a china pattern.”
“I don’t even see why we need china; neither one of us cooks on a regular basis.” The fact of the matter was that I didn’t cook at all. That’s why I kept every carryout menu imaginable in my kitchen drawer.
“And when we do, we use paper plates,” Yardley said, speaking of the few times when he’d prepared dinner for me. They were simple meals—once it was Hamburger Helper—but he was still a step ahead of me.
“I know that’s right,” I said in agreement.
“Make Mom happy. She’s relishing helping you plan the wedding. This is her only shot at it since I’m an only child.” He closed the door for me after I’d gotten into the passenger side. As he walked around the car to get in, my heart sank. I was planning my wedding and Momma wasn’t around. After he’d climbed in beside me, he said, “I’m sorry, baby. I know you wish Arjay could help plan it, too.”
“It’s okay,” I lied. “She’ll be out in time for the wedding. That’s all that matters.”
“Have you picked out your wedding dress yet?” he asked as he started the car.
“Yes, I finally decided on one.”
“What does it look like?”
I giggled. “Let’s try ‘none of your business.’ ”
“Cute.”
“If I tell you what the dress looks like, it’ll ruin the surprise. The point is that I’m supposed to blow you away the day of the wedding so you’ll never forget how I appeared walking down the aisle; even fifty years from now; when I’m old, gray, and my tits are down on my knees.”
“Fifty years from now, you’ll be just as beautiful to me as you are today.”
“Remember you said that shit when it’s time for me to get dentures.”
“Hey, eventually I’ll probably become impotent. Will you still love me then?”
“Sure. Think about it. We’ve got Viagra now. Imagine what kind of shit they’ll invent by then.”