“We’re here,” I called.
My mother rushed out to greet us in a blue-and-white print dress with too many ruffles down the front. She had a belly, which she blamed me for, and the style made her look even more like a pigeon, emphasizing her round middle, thin legs and small feet. In honor of meeting my boyfriend, she’d broken out the diamonds, too, something my dad must’ve bought recently since I hadn’t seen the set before. Her steps faltered when she spotted Max, and her smile froze into a ghastly, polite rictus. A flickered gaze up and down told me how profoundly disappointed she was in what I’d dragged home.
It was too much to hope Max didn’t notice it. But he stepped forward to extend a hand anyway, and she shook it while I performed the introductions. “Ma, this is Max Cooper, my boyfriend. Max, my mother.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
“You don’t look like a Cooper.”
I cut her a horrified look, but before I could respond, he answered evenly, “Maybe not. My mom was from Paraguay.”
“Was?”
His voice was level. “She died when I was five.”
That distracted her from the inquisition, at least. “I’m sorry. But look at the two of you, your faces are so red. And Courtney, your hands are freezing. Did you fly in on a broomstick?”
I smirked. “I got the nose from you, Ma.”
“And I had mine fixed years ago.” It was true, she had a short, straight nose now that made her face...forgettable.
Max spoke up, slightly testy, because he hated it when anyone talked shit about the way I looked. Apparently, even my mother. “We came on my bike, actually.”
Her brows shot up. “As in...motorcycle?”
Oh, man. Strike one. But I didn’t want him to lie to make a better impression, so I nodded. “You wouldn’t believe how much fun it is to ride.”
“I’m sure,” she said tightly. “But did you know the nurses in the emergency room call them widow makers?”
“I’m careful.”
“And I always wear a helmet,” I assured her.
Max shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing his Mount Albion hoodie with the faded lettering. He’d likely had the thing since freshman year, but it suited him. He was so damn handsome that when he dressed up, as he had for his granddad’s funeral, it made me feel like hyperventilating. She took our coats and hung them up in the closet, fingering the leather of his jacket with faint distaste, like there was grease on it. I immediately wished I’d already bought the coat I joked about last night, for solidarity if nothing else. But I couldn’t give up so easily. Max was great, and if she gave him a chance, she’d see that.
Her pause was telling. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” The look told me that I was making bad ones. “Come and sit down, both of you. Are you hungry?”
She rambled on about the snacks the housekeeper had prepared, which was a welcome break. I was too tense to want lunch, though. So I perched on the pristine white leather couch, marveling that she’d redecorated yet again. This time, the room was all silver and white, beautiful but cold, an impression reinforced by the wall of windows behind us. The usual Hanukkah decorations were out as well, including the menorah. Max seemed nervous, not leaning back fully, and sitting with his hands tightly laced, a full foot away.
I told myself, It’ll get better. She had to know I wasn’t bringing home a hot young banker fresh from J-Date. Ma offered, like, four kinds of drinks before accepting that neither of us wanted anything. Afterward, I realized I should’ve asked for tea, just to distract her.
Because once she sat down with a glass of lemonade in hand, she got right back to being nosy. “So it’s just you and your father? What does he do?” The question was so obviously intended to make him feel inadequate, that I almost got up right then.
“Ma,” I warned.
Max wasn’t playing her game, though. He smiled sweetly and said, “Drink and collect disability checks, mostly.”
She choked on her drink, staring with wide, watering eyes. That wasn’t the kind of thing anyone she knew would freely admit. Instead it’d be talked about in whispers with lots of headshaking, but hell, why should Max feel bad about it? He wasn’t his father.
He went on. “But I have other relatives. My little brother’s pretty great. So are my Uncle Lou, Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim. They’re all fine, upstanding members of society, so I have a fair shot of not ending up in the gutter.”
It seemed like he’d won that round, but I hated that this week was likely to be so uncomfortable and adversarial. My mother wore a faint frown, as if she didn’t really know what to do with him since he refused to tolerate her passive-aggressive faux politeness. Beside me, Max stirred, his white knuckles revealing how crappy he felt. While he might not play her game, it didn’t mean he was feeling good.
“Where’s Dad?” I cut in.
“He’s running some errands, signing legal documents.” She managed a smile. “You know, the usual. He just bought a building on the west side and there are details... Courtney, can I talk to you for a moment?”
There was no way I could refuse without it getting ugly, so I murmured, “Excuse me,” to Max, then followed her down the hall to our rooms on the pretext of dropping off our bags.
She didn’t wait even thirty seconds before saying, “I cannot believe this, it’ll break your father’s heart.”
For a minute, I couldn’t even speak for the shock. “What—”
“You told him you have money, didn’t you?”
Okay, my mother’s officially lost her mind. “Of course not.”
She thought she was protecting me, but each work dug into my heart like a sharp and tiny knife. “You have to be careful. Truly handsome men don’t chase...” she trailed off, not wanting to say that I was ugly “...girls like you without incentive, and you must’ve dangled a million reasons. As if that’s not bad enough...take a good look at him, Courtney. I saw twenty just like him when I was visiting you in rehab. I know a junkie when I see one.”
I was just about to explain—to say that was the face of a guy who’d half killed himself to meet his girlfriend’s parents—but Max spoke first. “I can tell I’ve failed to pass Go and will not be collecting two hundred dollars. Give me my stuff, I’m heading out now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR