I Hate You

Part 11

“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?” Your mom’s voice is tired from the living room. You hesitate as you step off the stairs, hovering in the living room doorway as you look at her.

Her hair was piled on the top of her head, her reading glasses were on, and she was in her pajamas.
Man she was about to be in for a surprise.
“Um…. Can someone come over today?”
This was gonna be so awkward. 
Your mom’s head slowly swivels in your direction, and you can see the word “no” forming on her lips probably before she does.
“Who?” she asks, sighing, her head tilting back to lean on the couch, in the exact spot Ryan had been last week.
Ehhh.
You wish you could avoid this for a while longer.
You hope it’s not a disaster. 
“Um… This guy.”
Your mother perks up immediately, and you can see her tired face brighten.
“A boy?” she almost gasps, straightening, letting her slippered feet drop to the floor. “You want to invite a boy over?”
Kind of already did.
Am asking you in hindsight.
Please say yes.
“Sort of. It’s just, like, I want you to meet him, and stuff, because he’s actually a really nice dude and —.”
“Dude?” your mother looks amused. “Since when do you use that word?”
Fuck.
“Mom.”
“Oh, alright.” She chuckles, patting the cushion beside her. “C'mere and tell me all about him.”
Great, the fun part.
You reluctantly start forward, sitting down gingerly beside her, your fingers clasping nervously in your lap.
“So? What’s his name?”
“… Ryan.”
“You go to school together?”
“Yeah, we’ve a class together.”
“How old is he?”
“My age.” You’re guessing, you’ve never actually asked.
“Does he work? Is he nice? How are his grades?”
Jesus.
“Yes, yes, and I have no idea.” You shrug.
What did they matter?
“Ah.” your mother peers at you. “So why do you want him to come over?”
“So you can meet him.” You twitch.
“Are you two dating?”
“No, Mom, we’re not. I just —.” You suck in an awkward breath. You didn’t wanna tell her your dad had already met him first, that might hurt her feelings, so you’re gonna have to come up with something. “I like him. Like a lot. And I’m really hoping he’s gonna ask me out, and I want you to meet him.”
Your mother actually gasps in — excitement? You hope.
“Oh my goodness!” she squeals, turning so her legs are on the couch and she can really look at you. “Your first boyfriend!”
Your cheeks go crimson.
“Mom!”
God please don’t say that around him!
“I’m just so excited! I mean, I’ve met a lot of the boys who liked you but you never seemed interested in them! Oh my goodness! I need to get dressed!” she gasps, hopping to her feet. “I don’t want him thinking I look like this all the time! Will he be here for dinner? I’ll need to plan something! Oh my —.”
God.
You lean back against the couch, watching with a frown as your mother twitters for a moment, just so overcome with joy apparently. 
Maybe you should warn him he wasn’t gonna show up in a letterman jacket with a football tattooed on his forehead though. 
“Uh, Mom?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Um…” How do you say this? “He’s a little… Different.”
Your mother pauses her twittering. “Different?”
“Yeah, like — like I mean he’s not gonna come in here dressed in a football uniform and start lifting you over his head or anything. He’s really chill and stuff.”
“Oh.” your mother looks relieved. “I thought you meant he was in a cult or something and try to sacrifice Philip.”
​​You snort, shaking your head.
Damned cat.
“No, Mom. And he’s working, so it’ll be after five before he can come over, so don’t panic.”
Your mom was totally going to panic.
The house was dirty!
She needs to make a dinner!
She needs to wear proper clothes!
Your first boyfriend!
Ah!
~~~~~
Ryans exhausted. 
It had been the longest work day of his life. 
The pumps stopped taking credit cards.
the credit card machine broke.
There was truck shipments.
He is apparently both stock boy and cashier.
He hates his job.
He sighs, rubbing his face for a moment.
All he wants to do is take a nap for eighteen hours.
His back hurts.
His shoes hurt his feet.
He’s wondering if the guitar is even worth it.
Yeah, it was.
He grimaces as he feels his phone buzz.
You hadnt texted him at all today, so he’s not sure if he should come over or not. Did your mom even want to meet him?
Did she even care?
His didn’t give a shit.
His had probably met his old girlfriend maybe twice the entire two years he’d been dating her.
It had been one of those.
He frowns at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and runs his hand along the glass. Steam was still fogging the room from his hot shower, which he’d taken in hope it would relax him or help wake him up.
It had done neither.
He sighs.
His phone buzzes again.
Dammit.