Not Quite Perfect
Page 38
“That’s funny.”
“It was. Anyway, I didn’t need one today, so I guess I’m good.”
He heard her attempt to chew as they spoke. “About this weekend.”
“Uh-huh?”
“There’s a dinner party I’ve committed to going to on Saturday.”
He heard her drink something before she responded. “I understand. I’m thoroughly enjoying our weekends, but can’t expect to dominate every one.”
He liked that she sounded sincere and a little disappointed at the same time. “I want you to be my date.”
She cleared her throat. “In Connecticut?”
“The party is in Manhattan, but yes.”
Mary was silent, and for a minute he thought she had her mouth full again. “Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to.”
“Go ahead.”
“I-I can’t afford a flight back east right now. Not with all my plumbing issues—”
“Mary—”
“I’d love to join you. And it’s only fair that I visit you instead of you making the trip all the time. I mean—”
“Mary—”
“And my car, who knows what’s wrong with my—”
“Mary!”
“I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”
“I’ll send a plane. I wouldn’t have asked you to come here without offering a ride. I have meetings on Friday and can’t fly out to get you, but I do have a leg in LA that is coming back here Friday night. Or if you want to fly on Saturday, I can arrange that, too. Just tell me you’ll come.”
“It feels like I’m taking advantage.”
He knew that was coming. “You didn’t ask me, I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know . . .”
He needed to change tactics. “Dakota and you are best friends, right?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Just answer the question, Mary. You’re tight, correct?”
He heard her sigh. No food in her mouth that he could tell. “Yes. She’s my family.”
“You two talk, right? About everything?” If there was one thing Glen knew about women . . . other than the need for chocolate on occasion, it was their ability to talk.
“Yes.”
“Do you ever offer her advice?”
“What?”
“Like when she zapped Walt with the stun gun, did you talk about that?”
“Of course we talked about it, how could I have told you about it had I not talked about it?”
“You gave her advice,” he asked.
“I told her she shouldn’t feel guilty about buzzing anyone who walked up to her in a dark parking lot, even if it was her own mother. If you’re scared, you need to protect yourself. It’s natural.”
Glen smiled in the darkness of his den. “So a professional observation on human nature.”
“Fight or flight. So yeah, professional.”
“Has Dakota ever given you one of her books for free?”
Mary hesitated with her answer. “I’m her best friend. Of course she gives me a copy.”
Glen knew he needed to make the next words count or no matter how much the comparison worked, Mary would think he was full of shit.
He paused and spoke from his heart. “I miss my mom.”
“You’re changing the subject aga . . . wait, wh-what did you say?”
He felt his chest constrict with the admission. “I miss her. I miss my dad, too . . . but my mom . . . I don’t know, we didn’t have a lot of time together in those last years and I feel like I missed out on something.”
He heard Mary pause. “Oh, Glen . . . it’s natural. She left your life too early.”
“I know. Still sucks.”
“It does suck.”
They were both silent for a moment. He didn’t realize how hard the words were to say. He’d started out with this just as a way to get what he wanted, but now he felt better saying it out loud.
“I can come on Friday after five and need to be back Monday morning.”
Glen found himself squeezing his eyes shut. “My mom would have liked you.”
“You’ll have to show me pictures.”
“She was beautiful . . .” Glen went on to tell Mary how both he and Jason thought Trent was going to be a girl. And how they’d even put makeup on him when he was a toddler, teasing him. “Don’t tell Monica . . . oh, who am I kidding, women can’t keep secrets.”
“We can . . . just not ones as funny and innocent as that. A wife needs to know if her husband was an involuntary cross-dresser.”
“I’ll have to dig up the pictures we took that day. Maybe have one framed for his birthday.”
He did love the sound of Mary’s laugh.
“I’ll make all the arrangements for this weekend. The dinner is formal.”
“Floor-length formal or closer to what I wore in San Francisco?”
“Ask me an easier question.”
“Men! Are you wearing a suit or a tux?”
“Tux.”
“All right then.”
“That’s it? No more questions?”
“Unless you’re the best man in a wedding, a tux is only worn with superformal events. So instead of flat-out asking where you’re taking me, I can safely assume that a floor-length gown would be appropriate.”
“It was. Anyway, I didn’t need one today, so I guess I’m good.”
He heard her attempt to chew as they spoke. “About this weekend.”
“Uh-huh?”
“There’s a dinner party I’ve committed to going to on Saturday.”
He heard her drink something before she responded. “I understand. I’m thoroughly enjoying our weekends, but can’t expect to dominate every one.”
He liked that she sounded sincere and a little disappointed at the same time. “I want you to be my date.”
She cleared her throat. “In Connecticut?”
“The party is in Manhattan, but yes.”
Mary was silent, and for a minute he thought she had her mouth full again. “Uhm, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to.”
“Go ahead.”
“I-I can’t afford a flight back east right now. Not with all my plumbing issues—”
“Mary—”
“I’d love to join you. And it’s only fair that I visit you instead of you making the trip all the time. I mean—”
“Mary—”
“And my car, who knows what’s wrong with my—”
“Mary!”
“I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”
“I’ll send a plane. I wouldn’t have asked you to come here without offering a ride. I have meetings on Friday and can’t fly out to get you, but I do have a leg in LA that is coming back here Friday night. Or if you want to fly on Saturday, I can arrange that, too. Just tell me you’ll come.”
“It feels like I’m taking advantage.”
He knew that was coming. “You didn’t ask me, I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know . . .”
He needed to change tactics. “Dakota and you are best friends, right?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Just answer the question, Mary. You’re tight, correct?”
He heard her sigh. No food in her mouth that he could tell. “Yes. She’s my family.”
“You two talk, right? About everything?” If there was one thing Glen knew about women . . . other than the need for chocolate on occasion, it was their ability to talk.
“Yes.”
“Do you ever offer her advice?”
“What?”
“Like when she zapped Walt with the stun gun, did you talk about that?”
“Of course we talked about it, how could I have told you about it had I not talked about it?”
“You gave her advice,” he asked.
“I told her she shouldn’t feel guilty about buzzing anyone who walked up to her in a dark parking lot, even if it was her own mother. If you’re scared, you need to protect yourself. It’s natural.”
Glen smiled in the darkness of his den. “So a professional observation on human nature.”
“Fight or flight. So yeah, professional.”
“Has Dakota ever given you one of her books for free?”
Mary hesitated with her answer. “I’m her best friend. Of course she gives me a copy.”
Glen knew he needed to make the next words count or no matter how much the comparison worked, Mary would think he was full of shit.
He paused and spoke from his heart. “I miss my mom.”
“You’re changing the subject aga . . . wait, wh-what did you say?”
He felt his chest constrict with the admission. “I miss her. I miss my dad, too . . . but my mom . . . I don’t know, we didn’t have a lot of time together in those last years and I feel like I missed out on something.”
He heard Mary pause. “Oh, Glen . . . it’s natural. She left your life too early.”
“I know. Still sucks.”
“It does suck.”
They were both silent for a moment. He didn’t realize how hard the words were to say. He’d started out with this just as a way to get what he wanted, but now he felt better saying it out loud.
“I can come on Friday after five and need to be back Monday morning.”
Glen found himself squeezing his eyes shut. “My mom would have liked you.”
“You’ll have to show me pictures.”
“She was beautiful . . .” Glen went on to tell Mary how both he and Jason thought Trent was going to be a girl. And how they’d even put makeup on him when he was a toddler, teasing him. “Don’t tell Monica . . . oh, who am I kidding, women can’t keep secrets.”
“We can . . . just not ones as funny and innocent as that. A wife needs to know if her husband was an involuntary cross-dresser.”
“I’ll have to dig up the pictures we took that day. Maybe have one framed for his birthday.”
He did love the sound of Mary’s laugh.
“I’ll make all the arrangements for this weekend. The dinner is formal.”
“Floor-length formal or closer to what I wore in San Francisco?”
“Ask me an easier question.”
“Men! Are you wearing a suit or a tux?”
“Tux.”
“All right then.”
“That’s it? No more questions?”
“Unless you’re the best man in a wedding, a tux is only worn with superformal events. So instead of flat-out asking where you’re taking me, I can safely assume that a floor-length gown would be appropriate.”
