Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

Show You How - Part 3

Brandon didn’t come home that night. I was curled up downstairs watching episodes of The Twilight Zone until midnight, looking at the clock from time to time and wondering why a coffee date was taking hours. I considered texting him but decided against it. He was a grown man and didn’t need me checking up on him, especially in areas where he clearly didn’t want me involved.

It looked like I wasn’t hearing his story that night – it was getting late and I was starting to nod off, despite sleeping in earlier. With a heavy heart, I took the DVD out and set it next to my collection of Alfred Hitchcock movies. Brandon had been joining me as I rewatched Hitchcock’s films in chronological order. I didn’t owe him anything, but it still didn’t feel right to continue on and watch Under Capricorn without him.

Please be okay, I thought as I lay down to sleep, wrapping myself in my covers. I rolled over and closed my eyes, feeling the soft pillow against my cheek. Please don’t let this girl be trouble.

***

“It’s cold,” Carmen said with a frown, “but I think I understand where he’s coming from.”

We met for lunch the next day at Dona Maria, a small Mexican restaurant in Downtown Las Vegas. It was just far off the traditional vacation path that the only tourists who found it were either savvy or lost, and it had quickly become our favorite. Brandon had come home at some point while I was asleep – the blue button down he had worn was now at the foot of his bed, and his toiletries were rearranged on the bathroom counter – but he had left for work before I woke up. A part of me was relieved he wasn’t dead, but I was mostly bitter that, intentionally or not, he had avoided me.

I sipped my water and sat back. “Well? What do you think it is?”

“So before I say anything, I want to make it clear that it’s nobody’s fault,” she began.

“Oh god. I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Are you liking this situation so far?” she asked gently, battering the ice in her water with a straw. “Hear me out. Whether you like it or not, you’re kind of Momma Bear. You’ve been very kind and generous to him, but he probably thinks that you have…opinions.”

“Are you saying I’m judgmental?”

Carmen snorted. “Are you saying that you’re observational?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Continue.”

“I mean, you don’t immediately meet someone and take her home to meet your mom. You kind of want to see how things go, how serious this actually is. This is still really new – he may want to see where this goes before he brings you into the loop.”

“So he doesn’t tell me because I’m Momma Bear – okay, I think I follow your logic. How come he tells you almost immediately, then?”

She shrugged. “He was excited? He wanted to share the news with someone?”

“Because you’re not Momma Bear, he felt like he could share the news with you.”

“So let’s say the roles were reversed,” she offered, gesturing towards me. “Let’s say you meet some cute guy that you like and you start texting him. Who do you tell first – me or Brandon?”

“I’d tell you,” I began, “but I’ve known you longer. He technically knows me longer.”

“So a Momma Bear factor might be at play. My point still stands. He might see me as the fun aunt instead of the mother who knows best.”

“I don’t think there was a fun aunt in Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” I pointed out as our food arrived.

Carmen thanked the waitress and picked up her spoon. “Fine, I’ll admit that it’s an imperfect metaphor, but it got my point across. Try not to read into the situation, okay? I’m sure Brandon will talk to you when he’s ready .”

“While we’re on the subject of Brandon telling us stuff,” I began, reaching for my fork and knife, “did he tell you that he’s going back to school?”

Her eyes practically bugged out of their sockets. “No! What’s he studying?”

“Teaching. He wants to be a teacher – something about having a master’s in education and being able to teach history.”

“Oh, whoa. Good for him – and hey, see? He tells you things before he tells me. You’re not completely out of the loop.” She blew gently on her fideo soup. “Speaking of new jobs, my Virgin interview is this Monday.”

“That’s really soon. Wouldn’t they give you more time, knowing that your schedule can get weird? If anyone would understand that, it’s an airline.”

“You’d think that, but no. It’ll be a tight squeeze. I’ll literally leave the interview and go to work for a week straight.” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t really mind, though. It’ll keep me from obsessing over if I got the job or not.”

I smiled. “Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do awesome.”

“Thank you.” She sighed wearily and smiled. “Honestly, I just want it to be over with.”

“You’re going to kill the interview, and you’re going to make an excellent Virgin air hostess.”

Her grin faded into a bit of a grimace.

“What?” I asked. “Not a fan of the double entendre?”

“I love a good double entendre. It’s just that no one says ‘air hostess’ except for PR and bad translations.”

“Fine. You’ll make an excellent Virgin flight attendant.”

She laughed. “Much better.”

We focused on our food, letting the conversation pause as we ate. I finished eating first and was twirling my fork between my fingers, my eyebrows furrowed as my thoughts returned to Brandon.

“What’s on your mind?” Carmen asked.

I tapped the prongs of my fork against my lips. “If I’m Momma Bear, does that make her Goldilocks?”

“Oh my god, stop it. I regret that metaphor so much.”

“What? Why?” I mused idly. “Is she going to break in and try out all of my chairs? Is his porridge and bed just right for her?”

Like lightning, a thought flashed through me. I sat up straight and dropped the fork, the sudden clattering catching Carmen’s attention.

“You okay?” she asked, a spoonful of soup hovering halfway to her mouth.

My fingers were tingling from my bombshell realization, and my chest suddenly felt too tight around my heart. “You don’t think he slept with her, do you?”

Carmen’s face fell, her eyes filling with concern and pity. “Averie, he didn’t come home last night,” she said, her voice hushed. “Where did you think he went? What did you think happened?”