Confessions From A Coffee Shop (11 page)

It was our mother–daughter time, a time when she was usually much more relaxed since she wasn’t competing with her sister, her husband, or Kat. This was when Mom and I had our heart-to-heart talks.

“I think I’m going to hire a private detective to catch your cheating father in the act,” Mom stated bluntly as she sat in the chair, her eyes closed.

I glanced down at my nail tech, who didn’t flinch. I bet they overheard a lot of crazy stories. No doubt they have been trained not to react or show any emotion. Each time, we had the same girls work on our nails. Over the years, I’m sure they’ve become accustomed to my mother’s outrageous outbursts. Last month, she worried my father had cheated on his taxes and would be arrested. This month, she was obsessed with the suspicion my father was cheating on her. I had steeled myself for more chatter on the subject, but I didn’t think she’d go as far as hiring a private dick.

“Oh, Mom! Dad is not having an affair. Look at the man. Who would‌—‌?”

“Go ahead, Cori. Say it. Who would sleep with the man?”

“That’s not what I meant…‌Okay, it was. But that’s because he’s my
father
. I can’t see him as a lover.” I fidgeted in my seat and shook my head, trying to knock some sense into my pea-brain.

“What, do you think you’re a product of Immaculate Conception? A miracle baby?” She sniggered. “Back in the day, your father was a magnificent lover. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

If my fingers hadn’t been recently painted, I would have shoved them deep into each ear until they made contact in the middle. “Mother, please! I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Kat is right. You
are
uptight when it comes to sex.”

I whipped my head around to face her. “Stop talking to my girlfriend about sex. It’s weird!”

“That’s the problem with you, Cori. You can’t talk about S. E. X. Kat and I are starting an erotica book club. I urge you to join. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done. When you were a kid, you loved joining groups. Lord knows how many classes, lessons, and sporting events I drove you to before you got your license.” She blew on her wet nails. “It would make Kat happier.”

“What? Has she said anything to you?” I didn’t want to know, but I really did want to at the same time. I knew Kat was freakier in bed than me, but I didn’t think I was a bad lover. Was I a bad lay? Was Kat sexually frustrated? Good Lord, did my mom know this? I’d never hear the end of it.

“It’s hard knowing that a daughter of mine is so uptight in bed. You must get it from your father. God knows it took me years to train him.”

Once again I had the urge to shove my fingers in my ears.

“What did Kat say to you?”

Mom turned in her chair and the leather made an obnoxious farting sound. “Say? She didn’t
say
anything. But a woman knows.” She peered over her glasses at me, which always gave me the willies. Usually, my mother only wore her glasses at home and never in public. But today she had an eye infection so she couldn’t wear her contacts. I was surprised she didn’t cancel our appointment.

I let out a sigh. She was blowing smoke out of her ass, just to make me feel insecure. And I had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

“Come on, you can’t think people will want to join an erotica book club. People read that trash behind closed doors. They don’t talk about it openly.” I drummed my fingers on the arms of my chair.

“We already have seven members, including your aunt and your co-worker Harold.”

“Harold! How did he find out about it?” To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. I was beyond flummoxed. And I was pissed off. My mother and Kat discussing erotica with Harold was just too much for me to handle.

“Kat invited him. She thinks he’d make a good candidate for our good deed this year.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

“He needs to learn about the birds and the bees. I haven’t met him, but from what Kat told me he needs, how do I say this, tutoring.” She winked at me, and my skin crawled. Not only was my mother talking to my girlfriend about sex, now she was getting her talons into Harold. I shuddered at the thought.

“Please, for the love of God, do not sink your claws into Harold. He’s a nice kid, and he’ll figure things out on his own.” I didn’t believe that one bit, but the thought of my mother and Kat teaching Harold about life made me more than uncomfortable. I had to work with the man, and we were becoming buddies outside of work. This project was no good. I had to put a stop to it‌—‌and fast.

“I don’t want to talk about Harold.” She shook hair out of her face dramatically, like a movie star on the red carpet. “Later today I have an appointment with a PI. I know for a fact your father is getting his jollies elsewhere.”

“Mother, I’m telling you right now: you’re wrong about Dad. He isn’t having an affair. We all know Roger is a cheater, but that doesn’t mean Dad is. He is not cheating on you. Stop being so competitive with your sister.” I let out a long sigh, exasperated, and then stared at the mirror in front of us to see Mom’s reaction.

It floored me.

She was crying. Actually crying. Her cold heart had felt something besides jealousy.

“Cori! I will not sit here and have you ridicule me. God you make me so angry!” All of the muscles in her body tensed.

Okay, they were angry tears. But that was a good sign, I hoped.

“I’m not ridiculing you, Mother. I’m trying to talk sense into you. Whoever you hire won’t find a thing. Save your money.”

“So I can give it to you.” She dabbed her tears with a tissue.

I wanted to slap her. Instead, I said through clenched teeth, “Oh don’t worry about me. Kat’s father signed me up to do his billing in my free time.” Both Kat and I had been keeping it a secret. I didn’t want to admit that I needed the money, and Kat hated talking about her family, even with my mother.

“Why don’t you just finish your book? I know you have it in you.” Her words sounded heartfelt.

“I’m stuck on the ending.”

Mom’s encouraging tone had made me feel more comfortable talking to her as a writer. Hopefully she could help guide me. Goodness knows she was an expert in the field.

“You always did have a problem finishing things.”

I guessed professional guidance was out of the question.

“Careful, Mother. Your claws are showing.”

“That’s better. I know there’s a part of me inside you.”

If we weren’t in public, I would have let out a primal scream. She remained the most frustrating woman I’ve ever dealt with.

Neither of us spoke, but I could sense, from the way she gripped the chair’s armrests, that my mother was trying to think of the right words to say. My mother took exceptional care of herself. Ate right, worked out, had facials‌—‌she even endured colonics to stay healthy. It all paid off. Few would guess she was nearing sixty. She looked like she was in her late forties‌—‌except for her hands. Everyone’s hands give away their age. As Mom struggled for the right words, I studied her hands. Her veins bulged and the skin was speckled with age spots. The thing that troubled me most, though, was how fragile her skin looked‌—‌like crêpe paper. If I ran my finger along it, it would tear, I thought. I don’t mind getting older, but I’m not okay with my mother and aunt advancing in life. They’ve always been there for me, and now that they are showing their age, I’m scared to death I may have to go it alone.

My mother slapped the armrest with her palms, indicating she had figured out just what to say. “Cori, I don’t know how to sugarcoat this. Just sit your butt down in a chair and write the end. Don’t stop until it’s done. You and your editor can work on it after the first draft is complete. Stop whining, and just fucking do it.”

What Mom said made sense, but I didn’t like the way she said it. And I didn’t like that she was right; that bugged the shit out of me. Just fucking write. It sounded so easy.

“Do you want to go to my appointment with me?” Mom’s eyes looked hopeful.

“Nope. Leave me out of this. He’s my father.”

Mom started to say something, but then closed her trap. “You’re right.”

That shocked the hell out of me.

After a few moments, she added, “Well at least come to the bookstore with me. I need to buy some porn.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. And I would never skip an opportunity to go to the bookstore with her; Mom loved buying me books.

* * *

Later that day, I headed to Beantown Café for an extra shift I had picked up. Kat’s father wouldn’t pay until after the first thirty days, and I needed the money now. I wasn’t thrilled that I wouldn’t receive any money for a month, but he wanted to ensure I knew what I was doing and wouldn’t fuck up his billing. Luckily, I’m the type that doesn’t need a lot of sleep. I filed his claims late at night, and truth be told, the job was a cinch. Why Dr. Finn even hired someone else to do it baffled me. It took me forty-five minutes a night. I don’t think he was a popular or busy dentist. I suspected he and Margaret lived off the family money. I didn’t even know how much he would actually pay me, because he never mentioned that part during our “business” meeting. But Phineas had me over a barrel, and the bastard knew it.

When I walked into the store, I was shocked to see that Harold was still working. I knew he’d had the early shift.

He didn’t look pleased. “Philip called out, and Mark won’t let me leave.”

I didn’t have to ask how he felt. Harold turned toward Mark’s office and flipped him the bird, or at least I thought he did. He had such an elaborate method, which involved waving both arms above his head, flashing his middle fingers, and then slamming his hands into his pelvic bones. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or get him an icepack, since I think he hit himself much harder than he intended. What type of moron injures himself while flipping someone off? Only Harold. And my mom wanted to help him get laid. Goodness knows how much damage he would do to himself‌—‌and the poor woman.

Maybe Mom and Kat should give Harold coolness lessons instead of Sex Ed. He needed them, and God knows I wouldn’t be much help on that front. I thought I could teach him how to dance, but after seeing his “flipping the bird” routine, I had some serious doubts.

Harold wiped the grimace off his face and leaned against the counter like a gigolo on the prowl. He looked ridiculous. It took effort not to burst into laughter as I tied my apron strings around my waist.

“Got any big plans tonight, Harold?”

He looked overjoyed that I asked. “I sure do!”

As I began wiping down the counter, I quizzed Harold further, knowing that he wanted me to. “Really? What?” I stared at the countertop, fearful he would see my true feelings.

“I have a date!” His voice cracked with pride, like a fourteen-year-old boy’s.

My head snapped up, eyes on his face.

There wasn’t a trace of falsehood in his expression at all. Every pore exuded pure happiness.

“That’s wonderful, Harold.” I actually meant it. After getting to know him, I had started to cheer for the loser. “With whom?”

“Kat set it up.”

Oh shit. The word
mayday
flashed before my eyes in scarlet lettering. I saw nothing but disaster coming from Kat’s experiment, and I couldn’t think of one of her friends who would be interested in our Harold. He needed a special woman‌—‌not special needs, but kind of close‌—‌and Kat didn’t hang out with anyone who fit that bill.

Swallowing my fear, I dove in. “What do you have planned?”

“Come on, Cori. Stop fooling around.” He flashed me a goofy, know-it-all grin.

I was taken aback. Did he mean he didn’t have a date? Not knowing what to say, I said nothing, just gave him a shy, questioning smile.

“All of us are going on a double date tonight.” Mr. Kool giggled like a teenage girl and playfully swatted my shoulder.

“Oh, that. I wasn’t sure if it was a surprise or not. Has Kat been by today?” I wanted to throttle her beautiful neck. Not only had she set up Harold to have his heart ripped out, she had signed me up to watch the fiasco. The woman needed to stop meddling in other people’s lives. I knew she had a big heart, but come on, setting up Harold on a blind date! She crossed the Rubicon and damned us all.

A customer entered before I could fire off a nasty “what the fuck are you doing?” text to Kat. When I turned to take his order, I was stunned to see my father. He was wearing jeans and a polo in the middle of the work day. He usually wore a suit and tie.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” I tried to control my voice so I didn’t sound panicky.

He looked rattled, as if he had never been into a Beantown Café before. My father didn’t drink coffee, so that may well have been the case. He claimed caffeine made his ears ring.

“Oh, I just thought I would pop in and see how my girl is doing.” He patted his pocketbook nervously.

“Did you take the day off? Mom and I just got our nails done, and she didn’t mention that you had the day off.” I felt bad about the implied accusation, but his appearance and behavior made me nervous. Was my father having an affair? Was he killing time before meeting his floozy? Oh, if that were the case, I would never hear the end of it from my mother. I could just see her gloating that she was right and missing the big picture completely.

Jesus, Cori, so are you.

“No, I’m working.” He paused. I was certain he was searching for the right words. “It’s casual day.”

Accountants don’t do casual‌—‌at least not at his firm.

“Really? That’s a first, isn’t it?” I crossed my arms.

“Yeah, it is. The first Friday …” he mumbled and didn’t finish his thought.

“Have they extended your time off for lunch as well?” I knew it wasn’t right for me to interrogate my own father, but I couldn’t help myself. Mom’s accusations, and his behavior, had made me suspicious.

“No. They don’t like to give me much of anything, lately.” His tone was bitter, hate-filled, but then he smiled bashfully. “I just needed some time today. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.” He stood up straighter.

Harold started sweeping the floor close to us, and it was obvious he wanted to hear the juicy gossip.