The Song

Part Twenty-Five

FLASHBACK CONT…

“You really don’t have to come tonight,” I said, putting earrings in as I watched Aston button up his shirt in the mirror.

“I want to.”

“My mother’s birthday dinner is usually the worst night of the year.”

“But she’s your mother,” Aston said, wrapping a hand around my waist and kissing the side of my head.

“Yeah and you’ve met her once. And it was a total trainwreck.”

“Do you not want me to come?” Aston asked.

“No I’d love for you to be there,” I said, “Take the edge off. But I’m just warning you that it’s probably going to be pretty awful.”

“Awww, my baby is trying to protect me?”

“Exactly that,” I grinned, twisting around and kissing his cheek, “Now let’s go. Can’t be late for mother dearest.”

We took a cab from my flat to The Ivy, my mother’s favorite restaurant. Since I was about fifteen it had always been the same. Every year for my mother’s birthday my sister and I would go for a meal with her. And every year it would end in some sort of fight. Be it between me and my mother, my mother and Julia, my mother and the wait staff… It was always unpleasant.

At the restaurant I gave our names, and the pair of us were lead back to an empty table. Julia arrived about five minutes after.

“How long do you think she’ll be this year?” she asked, dragging a drink menu in front of her.

“Hopefully less than an hour.”

“You mean your Mum is always late?” Aston asked with a frown.

“Always. One year we sat for two hours, finally ordered food, ate, and then she arrived. We were terrified she’d be angry that we ate without her so we had to order a second meal and eat that too.”

“It took a month of overtime to pay off that credit card bill,” I sighed.

“That doesn’t seem right,” Aston said.

“It’s the world my mother lives in, and for one night a year we have to live in it too,” I shrugged, squeezing his hand under the table.

About forty-five minutes after we arrived my mother came in, a flurry of drama in her wake.

“Happy Birthday Mum,” Julia and I chorused as we watched her sit down. Aston had started to push his chair back to greet her, but stopped when he realized that neither Julia nor I got up.

“Thanks girls,” she said, collaring a waiter and order a martini. “I’m just going to go freshen up, Jessica will you come with me?” she asked, a sickly sweet smile on her face.

“Sure,” I said, getting up. Julia gave me a nervous look, but kept her mouth shut. We both knew I was in trouble.

“You brought your boyfriend to my birthday meal?” my mother hissed the second we were in the toilets.

“He wanted to help you celebrate! He’s being nice!” I defended.

“I don’t like it.”

“Do you want me to tell him to leave?” I asked.

“Then he’ll think I’m a bitch,” she said pointedly.

“Well I’m sorry you don’t want him here,” I told her, “What’s the problem anyways?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like him? Why?”

“There’s just something about him,” my Mum said, “He seems so fake. Just some celebrity trying to get a bit of action and good press. He’s using you!”