I sucked it up, scrolled to her contact and hit go.
It rang twice then, “Sweetie! You’re home in three days!”
I smiled. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh Kia, honey, are you having a good time?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s been great.”
“Good, I’m so happy. And you’ve lit a fire; I’ve been talking to your Dad for ages about taking me to Europe and just the other day I saw him on the internet looking at tourist sites for London. I think I’m going to have a good Christmas present this year!” she declared gleefully.
I kept smiling. “That’s cool, Mom, listen –”
She cut me off. “I’m calling Paula, Missy, Teri. We’ll have a get-together. Margaritas, your Dad’s brats on the grill and you can show us all your pictures. I cannot wait to see your pictures.”
“Mom, I’ve met somebody,” I blurted.
Silence.
No.
Loaded silence.
And it was listening to her loaded silence that I knew more than I already knew that my Mom had been through hell. The first and only boy I dated, I married, it was a supremely bad decision and the weight of her silence meant she wasn’t feeling confident in my ability to choose another one. Especially on vacation in Europe where I could get played by a whole new field of losers. Probably also especially due to the fact that Cooter had been dead for just shy of five months and she might suspect this was a rebound.
“You know him,” I told her.
“I… know him?” she asked hesitantly.
“Or, I mean, you know of him.”
“Kia –”
“It’s Sampson Cooper,” I said quickly then finished, “Sam.”
More silence then a shrieked, “What?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear on a wince then put it back and told her, “I, uh… met him at breakfast about a week and a half ago. In Lake Como. We, um… hit it off. He came to Crete with me.”
“You met Sampson Cooper, hit it off and he’s in Crete with you,” Mom stated.
“Yeah.”
“You met Sampson Cooper, hit it off and he’s in Crete with you,” Mom repeated and I grinned.
“Uh… yeah.”
“I don’t… I can’t… this is…” Mom stammered and through her stammer I heard Sam call from the other room, “Baby?” and I knew Mom heard it too because she instantly stopped stammering.
Sam didn’t stop speaking.
“It’s lunchtime. I’m starved. I’ll order. Have a… fuck, sorry.”
He’d been walking in looking down at an open binder but then he looked at me and saw I was on the phone.
“Mom,” I told him then bugged my eyes out at him.
He smiled and muttered, “Right.”
Then he threw the binder at the foot of the bed, skirted it, came to me, wrapped his hand around the back of my head, leaned in to touch his lips to mine and then said right there so I knew Mom would hear and I also knew that was exactly his intention, “Tell her I look forward to meetin’ her.”
“Ohmigod,” Mom breathed in my ear as Sam grinned again, let me go and straightened.
“I’ll let you get back to it. Have a look,” he tipped his head to the binder. “Or you want me to order for you?”
“If you’re hungry, just order for me,” I answered.
“All right, baby,” he replied then strode out of the room.
I watched his ass in his jeans while he did it, somewhat mesmerized.
“He calls you baby?” Mom whispered to me and I jerked my attention back to her.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Coop calls my baby, baby?” her voice was rising both in octave and in volume.
“Mom –”
“Ford!” she screeched and I took the phone from my ear but had no problem hearing her because she was still shrieking, “Ford, get in here! Get in here right this instant!”
I put the phone back to my ear, “Mom –” I started but it was Mom’s turn to have a conversation with her man that I was not a part of except hers was about me.
“Woman, Jesus, what the hell?” I heard Dad ask.
“I’m talking to Kia,” I heard Mom answer.
“Oh shit,” I heard Dad mutter and my heart flipped.
Damn. He’d lived through hell too.
Mom didn’t delay. “She’s met someone.”
“Oh shit,” Dad repeated and my heart flipped again.
“Sampson Cooper!” Mom screamed and I had to take the phone away then put it back when I heard her going on. “I just heard him, right on the phone, he calls her baby!”
Silence from Dad.
Not from Mom.
“And he said he’s looking forward to meeting me!”
Suddenly I heard the phone jostle then Dad’s, “Kia?”
“Hey, Dad,” I said softly.
“You doin’ okay?” he asked.
“Great, Dad,” I answered, deciding to focus on the fact that I was, indeed, doing great outside of being scared silly that there was a hit on me.
“Havin’ a good time?” Dad asked.
“Fantastic.”
“This shit your mother’s sayin’, it true?”
I paused then, quietly, “Yeah, Dad.”
Silence then a quietly returned, “No shit?”
I drew in breath.
Then I whispered, “No shit.”