What Happens in the Dark

Chapter Twenty-One

Later that day, my mother convinced me to watch some TV with her. I wasn't much of a TV watcher myself, but she had some old 90s sitcom streaming on her Hulu account that I found to be pretty amusing.

By the third episode I was pretty much hooked along with her, and had forgotten the question she asked until she paused the show to get my attention. "Ma'am?" I asked.

"I asked what you wanted to do for your birthday on Friday?"

She'd asked me this already, multiple times in fact, and my answer had been the same each time. "Mom I've already told you, I just want something low-key. Dinner and drinks sound perfect to me."

"Wouldn't you want something more extravagant for your birthday? Like a bash or something? Maybe invite all of your old friends for a cookout in the backyard? We have the room for it. Oh, you can invite Parker! I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"I saw him the other day at the convenient store."

"Really?" Her brows wriggled suggestively and I shot her a playful glare.

"Don't even think about it, Mom. I'm still upset about that whole frat boy fiasco."

"No you aren't," she said confidently, and she'd be right, because I really was over it. "And you said yourself the other day that you've been having fantasies about him, dirty dreams I believe is how you implied it."

"I suppose I did," I puffed, "But I've also told you before that Parker was always better as my friend."

Well, I did see him as a sexual prospect up until a few weeks ago, granted. However, the thought now brought twisting knots to my lower belly.

"Such a shame," my mother sighed. "You two would make beautiful babies."

"Mom!"

"What?" I got her faux bewildered look for that exclamation. "You would."

"You are impossible." I grinned, finding humor in our little banter.

"In all seriousness, though, why not invite him to your dinner then? Also, now that we're talking about it, what do you want for dinner?"

I knew just the response for her latter question. With my reply, I was hoping to eject the former from her focus. "Hot wings and blue cheese."

I had been craving the summer favorite for a while now.

"Ooh, I can make my famous garlic butter hot sauce that you love so much."

I made a sound of humored pleasure and threw myself against the back of the couch. My mouth watered at the thought of basking in the amazingness that was my mother's buffalo sauce. If my mother could concoct anything, it was brilliant hot wings.

"You'll make your homemade blue cheese, too?"

"Of course. That's a given, Dear. You can't have one without the other."

"True facts," I hummed. "Mmm. I can taste them already."

My mother laughed at the blissful visage my expression made. "I can make them tonight, if you'd rather." She suggested. "We can make a trip to the store, and pick up something else for your birthday dinner, as well."

As tempting as the thought was, I couldn't think of anything else that'd I want. I rather thought that wings would pair well with a bit of alcohol and celebration of being fully legal of anything.

"That's alright. I just want wings for my birthday. I can wait a couple more tortuous days for them."

"Suit yourself. What do you want to go with them? Gerrard would be happy to finally be able to utilize the grill he bought. We can have him whip up some burgers? And serve them with fries, a veggie platter; it's up to you really."