‘I’ve missed that,’ I told her.
‘Me too,’ she consoled. Then, ‘why did you stop talking to me? I was afraid I’d done something wrong.’
‘Stupid me, I guess,’ I said, offering a half-wit expression. ‘I think I was more afraid that I’d want to quit my job and run back home.’
‘And I’d have been fine with that,’ she remarked, tipping up her own glass and swallowing before kissing me on the cheek. ‘I do miss having a reliable man around. Independence doesn’t boil down to an empty home, you know. I always gave you your space.’
Shortly after, we sat down to eat.
4
When I snapped out my food coma an hour and a half later, I was reclined in my leather chair in front of the television and feeling great, aside from the slight hang over. Wine did that to me. It hit me so easily and then the comedown was just as quick. But just the ability to relax and not worry about work; to appreciate what I had made all the difference to my mood already.
The clock now read 8pm, which I barely made out through blurry eyes. Then the next thing I could make out was the rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen. She was cleaning up, no doubt having grown restless as I napped. Some things never changed, not that I was ungrateful.
‘I’m so sorry, mum, I’d have done that,’ I said, hurrying into the kitchen to pick up the dishcloth, but she was already done. Now she stood rolling her eyes at me as if to say, “sure… sure you would!”
‘Want to feel useful?’ she asked, ‘open another bottle of wine and come snuggle with me on the couch.’ With that she threw me a flirtatious wink and the corner of her mouth curled up.
‘Honestly is that all I’m good for?’ I exaggerated.
‘No,’ she replied, ‘it’s just all I think about!’
Then the thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. I hadn’t felt this excited in so long and I knew she would love to see it. ‘I’ve a better idea,’ I smirked. ‘Why don’t we dress a bit more comfortable and then I have something to show you. Then we can relax and snuggle.’
‘Wine, mystery, and surprises – how can a lady resist?’ she asked.
I chased her up the stairs with the glasses and wine bottle in my hands, mum whooping like a teenager; probably not the safest stunt but I might as well have been running with scissors in asking Carol to marry me, as it turned out.
Seeing mum to the spare room, I disappeared into the master bedroom to change into a pair of clean sweatpants and a loungewear t-shirt before filling our wine glasses again. I saw the blinds were still open then and strolled across the room to close them. God knows some of my opposing neighbours have roaming eyes.
‘Oh wow, a queen-sized bed,’ mum purred approvingly.
I smirked and basked in her approval, my back still turned to her. ‘I knew you’d like it,’ I remarked. I’d only bought it recently, throwing out the bed I shared with Carol, wanting every intimate memory out of my life, especially while she was now rutting with some diseased little fuckboy.
‘Well guess where I’m sleeping tonight.’
‘You? Sleeping?’ I quipped.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off her from the moment I turned to face her. She waltzed around barefoot, from one side of the bed to the other in a purple satin negligee that showed enough cleavage and thigh to set my heart thumping.
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