Winter Jacket: New Beginnings (9 page)

Hunter
flashed me a look of uncertainty.

“Yes, she is,” I answered for her.

My mother’s smile was tight. “Great. I hope you like lasagna.”

+++++

I had never sat at a dining room table with my mother and whomever I’d been dating before. I had had boyfriends in high school, but I’d rifled through them so quickly that no one had ever been invited over for a meal. In college the situation had been similar; I hadn’t figured out my sexuality until my Junior year, and by then my family and I had become distant.

I pushed my uneaten food around on my p
late. There were too many awkward silences, but I couldn’t come up with anything to fill the gaps in our conversation. The sound of knives and forks scraping against plates seemed louder than usual.

“So, Hunter…that’s an interesting name,”
my mother not-so-innocently remarked. “If Elle had told me she was dating someone named Hunter, I would have thought she’d gone straight again.”

“Mom!” I complained
, letting my annoyance show.

My mom didn’
t look up from her plate and the dainty cuts she was making in the lasagna. “But it’s not like you ever call me anymore.”

“
Whenever I do, you’re always out of the country,” I pointed out, waving my fork at her. “Besides, you have a phone, too. It works both ways.”

“I’
m just a little hurt you never told me you were dating someone new. What happened with Cady?” She set her fork and knife down. “I always thought you two would get back together.”

“
That was a long, long time ago, Mom,” I sighed. “Cady and I are better at being friends than girlfriends.” I hadn’t talked to Cady since Hunter and I had officially started dating; we were barely even friends now.

Hunter cleared her throat. “
This is really good, Mrs. Graft,” she complimented.

“
Thank you, dear. But please, call me Vivian.”

Hunter took another bite. “Did you use Italian sausage instead of ground beef?” she asked when she’d finished chewing.

My mom nodded and took a sip of her red wine. “Good catch. I like the subtle kick it provides.”

Hunter had been very qui
et through dinner, but I couldn’t blame her. It was an awkward back and forth between my mother and me. We really should have hashed things out, just the two of us, before I subjected Hunter to a family meal.

I
kept waiting for the question – the obligatory origin story of how Hunter and I had met – but it never came. Either my mom had already guessed, or she didn’t care, or she was too uncomfortable to ask those kinds of questions.

When we finished eating, Hunter was the first one out o
f her chair. “I’ll clean up,” she announced.

My mom started to st
and up. “Don’t be silly. Guests don’t clean up.”

My eyes darted between the two women, my mother and my girlfriend, mentally preparing myself for some kind of confrontati
on.

My mother’
s choice of words, calling her a guest, didn’t appear to faze Hunter, at least not visibly. She picked up her empty plate and grabbed mine as well. “You made a lovely dinner, Vivian; it’s the least I can do.”

I scrambled
to my feet. “I’ll help, too.”

Hunter waved a hand, shooing
me away. “Sit down, Elle. I’ve got this. Keep your mom company.”

I glanced at my mother who arched an eyebrow at me.
I sat back down in my chair while Hunter cleared the table and brought everything into the kitchen. The kitchen and living room were open concept, but the formal dining room where we sat was separated from the primary living space. I could hear Hunter clattering around in the kitchen, but I couldn’t see her.

I fiddled with the stem of my wine g
lass.

“She’s awfully polite,”
my mom observed. I couldn’t tell if her statement was meant to be a compliment or not, so I simply nodded in agreement. Hunter had impeccable manners, even in the most uncomfortable scenarios.

“She’s sweet,” my mom continued.
She took a small sip of her wine. “Maybe too sweet for you.”

I stopped fidgeting. “What’
s that supposed to mean?”

My mom gave no answer; she just shrugged and continued drinking her wine.

+++++

CHAPTER
FIVE

Hunter and I
lounged on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. Well,
I
was watching cartoons and she was reading out of a cumbersome textbook. She sat beside me with her long legs tucked under her. Unlike the skirted outfit she’d worn earlier, she finally looked relaxed in an oversized jersey sweater that fell off one shoulder that she wore over black leggings. Her feet were bare and her toenails were painted dark blue – the same color as her winter jacket. My attention was split between the adventures of Jake and Finn and the antics of my studious girlfriend. She did this adorable thing when she was deep in thought; she played with the end of her loose braid, running it under her nose like a paintbrush.

“What are you reading about?”

She opened her textbook wider for me to see. “Sexually transmitted infections.”

I recoiled when I caught a glimpse of the
glossy images in the textbook. “Oh my God. I wasn’t ready for that.” I crinkled my nose. “How can you study that first thing in the morning?”

She laughed and snuggled
deeper into my side.

It w
as the day of Troian and Nikole’s going-away party, but people wouldn’t start showing up until late in the evening, so Hunter and I had the morning hours to ourselves. My mom had yet to make an appearance, so for now I enjoyed the time alone. I anticipated that as soon as my mom emerged from the guest room, Hunter would scoot to the opposite side of the couch. She was funny like that. She could stare down strangers who gave us a hard time about being Out in public, but for some reason, my mom’s presence was making her shy.

“
Why does she bother you so much?”

Hunter looked up from the textbook. “Who?”

“My mom. You turn into robot girl whenever she’s around.”

She snapped her textbook shut. “I do not,” she protested in a stubborn tone.

“Babe, you’re practically an ice princess when we’re in the same room as her.”

Hunter frowned
deeply. “I didn’t know I was being so obvious.”

“You are.” I shifted on the couch so I could look directly at her and not the television. It felt like we were about to have a serious conversation, and I didn’t want
Adventure Time
to distract me. “So what’s up?”

Her front teeth dug into her lower lip. “
The last time a mom disapproved of our relationship, we kind of broke up.”

Everything became so much clearer to me.

“I can assure you that my mom holds no sway over me.”

“
How am I supposed to know that?” Hunter asked, her voice rising an octave. “She showed up with chicken noodle soup when you were sick and made baked goods like she was a Little Debbie factory.”

Even if I was loath to admit it, my mom’s timing had been perfect. I was transported
back to my childhood when she used to make me chicken soup with dumplings shaped into little hearts. When you’re miserable, sometimes you just need your mom – no matter how old you are or how estranged your relationship has become.

“She likes you,” I said.

Hunter snorted, not believing my words. “How can you tell?”

“
She told me you were sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Uh huh,” I confirmed. “In fact – her words exactly – that maybe you were
too sweet
for me. Hunt, my mom thinks you’re
too good
for me, not the other way around.”

Her eyes dropped demurely. “Oh.”

I grabbed her hand and intertwined our fingers, pulling them onto my lap. She looked so beautiful, ethereal, with the sunshine streaming through the living room windows and reflecting off her honey-warm hair.

The doorbell rang
and we both looked in the direction of the front door.

“Expecting someone?”
Hunter reached for her oversized mug of coffee that had sat ignored on the coffee table.

“No.”
I thought maybe Troian and Nikole would show up early for the party, but that was still hours away. And Troian didn’t use the doorbell. She knocked with purpose, like she was being chased by zombies.

I unhappi
ly untangled myself from Hunter’s long limbs and made my way to the front door. Normally someone unexpected at my house didn’t rattle me, but with my mother’s recent unannounced visit, I was now suspicious anytime I heard someone at the door. A short list of who it might be filed through my head.

I opened the front door, but there was no one on the other side.
I heard a diesel truck start up and saw the delivery vehicle parked in front of my house. There was a small cardboard box on the front stoop. When I saw the return address printed on its top, I knew exactly what it was.

I closed the door
behind me and eagerly tore into the thin box.

“Who was it?”
Hunter called from the living room.

“Delivery person,” I said. “It’s my book.”

“Your book? It’s out?” Hunter hopped up from the couch.

“It’
s an advanced copy from my editor. It won’t be available for sale for a few more months.”

Still standing in my foyer, I finished unwrapping the book. Even
though I of all people shouldn’t have judged a book by its cover, I loved the way the cover art had turned out.

I handed the anthology to Hunter for the first inspection. Her eyes were wide, bright, and eager.
She flipped the book open, and I got nervous. I hadn’t told her that one of the stories was about her, and I didn’t know how she was going to react. If it had been me, I’d probably be equal parts flattered and annoyed.

Her already wide mouth curled up
into a warm, approving smile. “You dedicated it to Troian.”

I’
d nearly forgotten about that. Writing the acknowledgments and dedication page had taken nearly more purposeful thought than the rest of the book. At the time of its writing I hadn’t been particularly close with my immediate family and my relationship with Hunter had been very new. Dedicating the book to Hunter so early into the relationship had seemed like the Kiss of Death. We might as well have gotten matching tattoos. Dedicating the book to Troian, however, felt right. Not only was she my best friend, but she was my constant and biggest supporter of my writing.

I
wiped at my leaking eyes. The tears were unexpected. I needed to stop being selfish about Troian and Nikole moving. This was an amazing opportunity for both of them. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I needed to give them the party of the year tonight.

Hunter’s
arms went around my waist and her head buried into my shoulder. “Don’t be sad, baby. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

Our arms detangled too soon. “Where are you going?”
I complained as she left the foyer to return to the living room couch.

“I’
ve got a new book to read,” she called over her shoulder, “and you’ve got a house to clean.”

+++++

I still wasn’t in a celebratory mood by the time the going-away party started. Hunter had sent out the e-vites for me because every email I’d constructed read like I was hosting a wake instead of a celebration for my two best friends. Troian and Nikole were the first to show up. Even though it was a party for them, they’d insisted on arriving early to help me set up. Unlike the party I would be hosting later in the semester for the graduating English majors, getting ready for this party had only necessitated buying a lot of alcohol and making a music playlist that Troian wouldn’t mock me about. The rest of the party-goers had arrived throughout the evening and I’d been kept busy for the first few hours answering the front door and making sure everyone had something to drink.

It was hard to be a good hostess, however, when
Hunter looked so amazing. She looked too good in jeans. They hugged the curves of her lower body so perfectly it was as if the pants had been custom made for her body. It was almost a shame they were going to come off later tonight. Almost.

I watched her talk
with someone I didn’t recognize – probably one of Nikole’s landscaping friends. Nikole often hired students from my university to work for her landscaping company over the late spring and summer months. Sometimes I alerted her to specific students I thought were hard workers and would do a nice job. Just by coincidence, Hunter had worked for Nik the previous summer. I hadn’t thought to pass her name on probably because of my massive crush. I’d tended to think that any favoritism when it came to Hunter was inappropriate. We’d only realized our mutual connection through Nik the first time we’d gone out on a double date with my friends.

Hunter
laughed at something and tucked a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Her hair was flat-ironed tonight and fell soft just below her shoulders. She wore light makeup around her eyes and just a hint of blush at her cheeks. Her alabaster skin practically glowed. She used to adorably panic before meeting people in my life for the first time, but tonight she hadn’t even consulted me on her wardrobe choice.

“What?”

She’d caught me staring from across the room. I grinned innocently and drank deeply from my pint.

She
was the youngest person at the party, but she had a particular talent for making friends in a room full of strangers. She was both warm and engaging, the kind of person you felt comfortable opening up to after just a few moments of talking. I imagined it made for an amazing bedside manner, especially in the pediatric wing of the hospital. Seeing her so engaged and confident, magnetic really, made me fall even more in love. I hadn’t wanted to abandon her to a room of mostly strangers, but I had to continually check on things like freshen up the ice for drinks and refill chip bowls. I also didn’t want to be one of those couples who couldn’t survive at a party without being joined at the hip.

I spotted my mother in the living room, chattin
g with my ex-girlfriend, Cady. I hadn’t known what to do with my mom. I’d suspected that once the tattooed, pierced, gum-chewing freaks started showing up that she’d slip away to the guest bedroom for the night. I’d also thought about giving her some money so she could go see a movie or something, but I knew her personality too well. She’d pretend to be wounded and play the martyr. I was happy that my mom had someone to talk to, but it made me uneasy to see her talking so genially with my ex-girlfriend. Cady and my mom had gotten along when we’d dated, probably better than my mother and I got along.

I had
also waffled on the decision to invite Cady to the party, but she’d been close with Troian and Nikole when we’d dated and had maintained a friendship even after we broke up. It was unsettling to have my current and former girlfriend in the same room, but I knew it wasn’t uncommon in the lesbian world. It was probably more unusual that it hadn’t already happened.

Cady and I hadn’t talked yet, but we’
d at least made eye contact to acknowledge each other’s presence. I hadn’t talked to her in some time, actually – not since Hunter and I had started dating, at least. She’d been one of the first people I’d told about Hunter, but we’d lost contact since then.

I walked over to them out of a sense of hostess obligations, but I was also curious what my mom and Cady had been tal
king about with such intensity. I got a few steps away and heard my mother’s voice. “Well, Elle has questionable taste.”

“
And an extremely supportive mother,” I interrupted.

I tried not to appe
ar too ruffled, but my mom didn’t have the decency to appear chastised that I’d overheard her talking about me. Instead, she took a sip of her drink. “It’s rude to barge into someone’s conversation, Elle,” she sniffed. “I didn’t want to mention it, but your manners have gotten sloppy.”

Cady laughed, warm
and invitingly familiar. I hadn’t realized I missed that laugh.

“Hey, you,”
I greeted, feeling awkward about the distance that had grown between us. “Glad you could make it.”

Her hazel eyes regarded me over the top of her
party cup as she took a drink. “I was surprised to get an invite to be honest.”

“Why wouldn’t I invite you?” I frowned. “You’
re friends with Nik and Troi, too.”

Cady took another drink and hummed, but made no other comment.

“Cady was just telling me she got a promotion at work,” my mom chimed in.

“Congratulations,” I said. I saluted her with my drink. “Are you still at the bookstore?”

Cady nodded. “Yeah, so it’s not really a big deal. More like they were just rewarding me for not leaving. I hear you got tenure though,” she noted. “That’s really great, Elle. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,”
I returned uneasily. I wasn’t comfortable with the compliment, not from her. When we were dating, I’d been married to the job. If she complained about me prioritizing work over her, I’d always promised her that things would change for the better once I got tenure. Now that I had tenure, however, it did her no good.