« Wonderful! » my mother exclaimed, clapping her hands once.
« She’s also a single mom. Her son, Aaron, is seven. »
The pause was nearly invisible. She lifted her wine glass with perfect posture and took a small sip, as if recalibrating. Her voice, when it came, was polite and cool.
« That’s a lot of responsibility for someone your age. »
« I guess, but she’s incredible, » I said, maybe too quickly. « Anna is a wonderful mother. And Aaron… he’s a great kid. He told me I was his favorite grown-up last week. »
« She’s also a single mom. Her son, Aaron, is seven. »
« I’m sure she appreciates the help, Jonathan, » my mother replied, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. « A good man is hard to find. »
There was no warmth in her voice, and no invitation for more.
We talked about other things after that, work, the weather, and a new art exhibit downtown, but she never said Anna’s name. And I didn’t force it.
Not yet.
