She wore navy, her signature color when she wanted to be taken seriously, and ordered a glass of wine before I had a chance to sit down.
She didn’t raise me to be happy. She raised me to be bulletproof.
“So?” she asked, tilting her head. “Is this a real-life update, Jonathan, or are we just catching up?”
“I’m seeing someone, Mom.”
“What’s she like?” she asked, smiling widely, sharp with interest.
“Anna is a nurse. She works nights at a clinic near the hospital.”
“Is this a real life update, Jonathan, or are we just catching up?”
I saw the spark of approval flicker across her face. “Smart, brave, I like that in a woman for you, Jonathan. Parents?”
“She has both parents. Mom’s a teacher and her dad is a doctor, but they live in another state.”
“Wonderful!” my mother exclaimed, clapping her hands once.
I saw the spark of approval flicker across her face.
“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.
