She patted me on the back. “I’m so sorry to hear that...Have you tried calling her?”
I didn’t answer. I wanted to call her every day—to ask if she was still out of her damn mind, but I promised to let her go so I left it alone.
“I’ll take that as a no then,” she said, sighing. “Things happen for a reason, son. Maybe you should date someone your own age next. You had to know it wasn’t going to last a long time with an older woman...She probably had an agenda that you didn’t even know about...”
I moved her hand off my shoulder and glared at her. “Thank you, mother. This is really helping.”
“Oh come on! I know you liked her a lot but—”
“But what?”
“Nothing...Just take it from another older woman: These May-December romances aren’t long-term material. I mean, I liked Claire from the moment I met her. I thought she was beautiful, charming, and hell—I would’ve never guessed that she was forty, but that fact remains. At the end of the day, you two are better off apart. You just don’t know it yet... Would you like to eat lunch with me today? We can talk about this for as long as you need to...”
“Sure. But I don’t feel like leaving my office. Could you get that new Italian restaurant’s menu from Angela before she leaves? We’ll order in.”
“Of course.” She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. She patted my back one more time and headed for the door.
As soon as I heard the doorknob turn, something in me snapped and I spun around. “Wait, mom. One second...”
“What is it? You want Chinese instead?”
“How did you know Claire’s first name the day I introduced you two?”
I didn’t know why I’d never caught that before. I’d been playing our breakup and the preceding weeks in my head every day. I was sure it was nothing, but I needed to make sure.
“What are you talking about?”
I walked over. “The day I introduced you to her...Angela said Miss Gracen over the intercom and you asked me who she was referring to. I said my girlfriend, but before I could tell you her first name was Claire, you reached out and said it first. How was that possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess you mentioned her to me before and I happened to remember, so—”
“No. I didn’t.” I noticed that she was shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I never mentioned Claire to you by name. Ever.”
“Maybe you thought you didn’t, but you—”
“I didn’t. Answer me.”
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me.
“Answer. the. question.”
“Calm down, Jonathan...I think you’re confusing yourself because you’re hurt and angry right now; you shouldn’t be taking this out on me. I’m going to get that menu so we can—”
“Stop.” I placed my hands over the door, blocking her escape. I looked directly into her eyes and then I saw it—that look of guilt, that look she always got whenever she didn’t want to admit to something.
I narrowed my eyes. “What the f**k did you do?”
“Watch how you talk to me! I’m your mother! You can’t just—”
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?”
“Nothing...Can you please move so I can get the menu?”
“No.”
She shook her head and walked past me, taking a seat on the couch. She patted the seat next to her, but I stood still by the door.
“I met her at my gift shop a couple months ago...She bought those sea hooks you got for your birthday from me.”
“And?”
“And nothing...I didn’t put two and two together until we were in your office that day and I remembered that her name was Claire...Is that not okay? Does that make me a bad person?”
I blinked. I was about to drop the subject, but then something else hit me. “Why did Angela say you had seven phones with seven different numbers? You’ve been calling me from the same number since you got out of rehab...”
Her face suddenly turned red and she gasped. “No reason, I—”
“Tell me the truth.”
“It’s not what you—”
“Stop bullshitting me! You said something to her didn’t you?” I should’ve caught this a long time ago...Why didn’t I see this?
“I—”
“I will lock both of us in this room until you start talking.”
She sighed. “I just told her that she was wrong for dating you...that someone her age should know better...And ever since that day I saw her in your office, I told her that she was wrong every chance I got...”
“I want the details.”
“Please don’t make me—”
“Now.”
She swallowed. “At first I was just calling her...and then I...” She stopped every few sentences, telling me how she called Claire every day and left threatening voicemails, how she sent her mean emails with photo shopped pictures, how she asked Angela to get her a new phone with a new number every Monday so the calls wouldn’t be traced to her own phone.
“And me and Vanessa—”