“Did you get one of those monsters?” she cut in, her frown magically erased.
“Is that all you care about?”
The sharp question surprised both of us. Instantly, guilt swarmed over me at the hurt look on her face.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. Jeez, I sounded like Timmie. “Um, in fact I did get two bad vampires last night.”
That was partly true. I’d just left a few details out she didn’t need to know about.
“Bad?” she asked with a gleam. “What do you mean by bad? They’re all bad!”
She can’t help it, I told myself, fighting guilt of another kind now. The only vampire she ever met raped her.
“Nothing. I’m just really tired. Can we do the movie another night? Please?”
She went into my kitchen, all four square feet of it, and opened my refrigerator. What she saw made her face draw even further together.
“It’s empty. You don’t have any food. Why don’t you have any food?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t been to the store yet. I forgot you were coming over.”
I’d eaten the last of the ramen noodles for lunch yesterday, and what I couldn’t tell her was that Bones usually took me out to eat. It was one of the few normal things we did together, albeit picking low-key places to avoid being spotted.
“You look very pale.”
Again, she said it as if it were an indictment. I yawned, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Nothing new there.”
“Catherine, you’re paler, there’s no food in here…have you started drinking blood?”
My mouth was still open from the yawn, and at that comment, it stayed that way.
“You’re serious?” I managed.
She backed away a step. Actually backed away. “Have you?”
“No!”
I stomped toward her, hurt and mad to see her cringe. “Here.” I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my throat. “Feel that? It’s a pulse. I don’t drink blood, I’m not turning into a vampire, and my fridge is empty because I haven’t been to the store! For God’s sake, Mom!”
Timmie picked that moment to poke his head into my apartment. “Your door was open…”
He stopped, startled at the thunderous expression on my face. My mother dropped her hand from my neck and straightened her shoulders.
“Who’s he, Catherine?”
Timmie quailed at her tone. Poor guy didn’t know it was her normal one. “Be nice!” I hissed. First Bones had scared him, now my mother would probably give him a heart attack.
“Is this your boyfriend?” she asked next in a stage whisper he could clearly hear.
An immediate denial sprang to my lips, and then something happened in me. Something crafty, calculating, and opportunistic. I looked at Timmie and saw exactly what my mother saw. A living, breathing young man. One who was a hundred percent not dead.
In my defense, I was probably crazed from lack of sleep, my period, and being accused of having a liquid diet.
“Yes!” It came out of me with reckless abandon. “Mom, meet my boyfriend, Timmie!”
I ran to him, hiding his dumbfounded expression from her line of sight, and gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.
“Please go with it,” I begged in his ear, hugging him while I said it.
“Ouch!” he squeaked.
Oops. Squeezed too hard. I let him go with a wide smile. “Isn’t he just adorable?”
She came toward us, looking him up and down. Timmie gawked at her before holding out a trembling hand.
“H-hello, Mrs….?”
“Ms.,” she corrected at once.
He blanched at her emphaticalness, having no idea of the many reasons why that was a touchy subject. To give him credit, however, he didn’t run out the door.
“Ms.,” he tried again. “Nice to meet you, Ms….?”
“You’ve slept with him and he doesn’t even know your last name?” my mother demanded, scowling.
I sent a glance heavenward before pinching Timmie when he started to back away.
“Don’t mind her, honey, sometimes she forgets her manners. Mom, do you want Timmie to call you Justina? Or Ms. Crawfield?”
She was still giving me that how-could-you glare, but her frostiness lessened. “Justina’s fine. It’s nice to finally meet you, Timmie. Catherine’s told me how you helped her kill those demons. I’m glad to know there’s someone else out there ridding the world of them.”
Timmie looked like he was about to faint. “Let’s get some coffee,” I said, practically shoving him before he started babbling out a denial. “You stay here, Mom. His place is next door, we’ll be right back!”
As soon as we were in Timmie’s apartment, I snatched him close and lowered my voice. “My poor mother! She has her good days and her bad ones. The doctor’s supposed to adjust her medication, but you never can tell when one of these spells will hit. Don’t pay attention to that killing and demon talk. She’s real Pentecostal. Believes in slaying of the spirit and so on. Just nod your head and try not to say much.”