Jesse and I went to celebrate with Mark and Jenna, but neither of us were in the mood to party. We put on happy faces and pretended to be having fun, but really, Jesse and I were stressed out—him, over finals (he suddenly realized he didn't know how he did on the way over, and convinced himself that he failed them all and would be kicked out of school) and his mom, and me, over his mom and my mom.

Jenna and Mark were about to go find a club or a party or someplace to go dance and have fun, but neither Jesse nor I were up to that, so we just went home. Even though it was still only, like, 8:30, I changed into my pajamas (the ones Jesse thought were inappropriate for the winter). I was putting some water in a mug and sticking it in the microwave when I noticed Jesse was rolling his shoulders.

"You okay?" I asked, hitting the START button.

"I'm just… tense. This hasn't been the most relaxing week for me, if you couldn't tell," he said wryly. He went into the bedroom, and took off his shirt and started rummaging in his drawer for his pajama pants.

Ignoring the three beeps of the microwave, I went into the bedroom, where Jesse was in his boxers. Before he could pull on his plaid flannel pants, I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed.

"Let me help you relax," I said. "Lay down, let me help." He did so, obligingly, resting his head on his arms on a pillow. "I promise, when I'm done, you'll be completely relaxed and any stiffness and tenseness will be gone."

Kneeling over him, I started rubbing his neck, relaxing the tense muscles with my fingers. Jesse made a tiny moan of approval, so I kept going.

I slowly went from his shoulders, to his upper back, and lower and lower until a good half hour later, I was at the waistline of his shorts. Jesse looked very relaxed and content. His eyes were closed, and for a second I wondered if he had fallen asleep.

Feeling slightly promiscuous, I quietly said, "Hey, Jesse, roll over." Proving that he wasn't asleep, he did.

I started massaging his chest gently with my fingers, even though this wasn't exactly an orthodox massage area. Whatever.

I continued down, and when I got to his boxers, I slipped my hands inside and started massaging there, too. Jesse's eyes flew open.

"Susannah, what…" he began, but couldn't continue.

"Well, right here seems sort of stiff too," I said, grinning. "And I made a promise..."

"Susannah," he said in a throaty voice, "what you're doing… won't make it less stiff." I grinned wickedly.

"Do you want me to stop, then?" I asked, expecting him to say 'no.' After about a minute, he finally spoke.

"Yes." Oh. I reluctantly removed my hands from under his shorts, feeling embarrassed, but then Jesse spoke again, with a slight pant. "It isn't fair that I'm the one getting a massage, when I'm sure you're just as tense as I am." He sat up, and to make things, you know, easier, I took off my shirt. Then, after checking me out quickly, he gently pushed me down on the bed so I was laying on my stomach like he had been.

His fingers were magic. They relaxed me so completely. So much so, in face, that for the first second or two, I didn't realize it when he left my back and started using his fingers to coax my leg muscles out of their knots.

He started with my calves, working up from near my ankles to my knees, and then up past them. His fingers caressed and slid up my thighs… and then his fingers moved to my inner legs. Chills ran through my body.

I let a small moan escape. I heard Jesse chuckled—though it sounded slightly strained, like he was trying to hold something in as well.

"Are you enjoying this?" he asked in a whisper into my ear.

"Very much," I mumbled into the pillow. My eyes were closed, and my fingers were gripping Jesse's sheets. I rolled over, giving Jesse a good view of my boobs. "You know, my chest is awfully sore," I said. "It's so tense…"

Jesse just smiled slightly, before doing exactly what I was asking him to do. His fingers circled my breasts, and caressed them. I arched my back from pleasure, sticking them out a bit, and moaned, "Oh, Jesse…"

This had the desired reaction. Jesse immediately leaned in and captured my lips with his own, kissing me feverishly. I see Jesse never did fully recover from the last bit of my massage.

He crawled on top of me, his hands leaving my chest to pull down my shorts. I giggled and hugged his head into me when he murmured something very complimentary into my neck. I pulled off his pants, and hooked one leg around him, and then he…

Well, I'm sure you know by now.

After we finished the third time around, I lay, too exhausted to do anything but breathe, next to Jesse. I moved my head to his shoulder, and brought my arm to his chest, where I traced my fingers randomly.

I guess I fell asleep, because when I opened my eyes, light was streaming through the slits in the blinds. Jesse was waking up too, because when I moved my head off his chest, his arms tightened around me, and his eyes flickered open.

"Mmm… good morning, querida," he said, his voice hoarse with sleepiness.

"'Morning," I said, and stretched. I leaned up and kissed him quickly, and then again.

After a few minutes of snuggling, Jesse asked, "How about some breakfast?"

We climbed out of bed and put some clothes on, and then Jesse made some toast (slightly burned, but still good) and scrambled eggs.

I took the dishes when we were done, and started washing them. Jesse came up behind me and kissed me a few times on my neck, before saying, "I'm going to try to call my mom… maybe she's cooled down." He squeezed my hips gently with his hands, before letting go and reaching for the phone on the wall.

"Hola, Mother," he said brightly. "It's Jesse. Listen, I know you said that…hello? Hello? Mother, are you there?" I turned around, and saw him click the off button, a devastated look on his face. He looked up at me, and I gave him a concerned look. "She hung up on me."

I went over and sat down next to him, putting my hand on his arm comfortingly. "I'm sure she'll calm down… sometimes it takes a few days," I said, trying to reassure him. He looked so upset, it was killing me.

"I just… I thought she wasn't serious. That she said it in the heat of the moment," he said. He sounded lost. "I didn't think… she'd actually refuse to talk to me."

Anger boiled up in me. Jesse looked so upset that his mother had hung up on him. All of the confusion and worry he had last night that I had tried to take away came charging back, and it was knocking him over.

"I… I'm just going to go return some books to the library," Jesse said tonelessly. "I'll be back in a little while." Jesse stood, disappeared into the room briefly and returned wearing acceptable clothes to wear in public, grabbed a pile of books, and left.

This had to stop. Our parents were being ridiculous. And it really was tearing Jesse and I up.

I mean, yea, I haven't talked about it a whole lot, but I was still really upset about what my mom had said. I was just trying to keep it inside, and not be one of thos annoying weepy people who just sit there and mope.

But just because I wasn't crying and moaning about how my mom hates me doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurt more than this.

I needed to do something. Me being upset was one thing, but it was worse to see Jesse the same way. I hated Jesse being sad. So as soon as Jesse left, I grabbed the phone and hit "redial."

"Hello?" It was an older woman's voice, and I figured it was Mrs. De Silva.

"Hi, Mrs. De Silva, this is Suze Simon, Jesse's girlfriend. Don't hang up. I want to talk to you. Can you meet me at Salinas Diner in half an hour? It's right near Jesse's apartment." I hung up, before she could get a word in edgewise.

I didn't know how long Jesse would be gone, so I left a note, vaguely telling him that I was out and would be back soon. I didn't even know if she was going to come. Knowing her, I doubt it. But I had to try.

I changed into the most demure outfit I had packed (pink striped button down, my highest-rising jeans—although that still wasn't exactly waist-high), grabbed my purse, and headed down to the diner where I had gone with Jesse and his friends what was almost a month ago.

I was brought to a table, and I ordered a tea and sat nervously, waiting for her to show up—if she showed up. For all I knew, she had hung up disgustedly as soon as I was done talking and went to make tortillas or something.

Forty-five minutes had past from the time I had made the call, and I was beginning to doubt she'd show up. Not that I had much faith in her to begin with, but I was about to ask the waitress for my check and leave when I saw the door open in one of the mirrors on the wall, and the petite frame of Jesse's mother appeared.

I sat up straighter, and waved to indicate where I was. I felt an odd relief when she sat down across from me. She was annoyed, her lips were pressed in a firm line, and she looked like she was so completely disinterested in what I had to say, like I was an ant she was about to step on who was pleading for mercy.

But she had come. And that was what I had asked her to do.

"Thanks for coming," I said as a waitress approached to take her order.

"What did you want?" she asked, after ordering coffee.

"I need to talk to you about what you're doing to your son," I said bravely. I twisted my hands in my lap, but I tried my best to appear calm and rational. Internally, though, I was sweating buckets.

What if I made things worse? What if she was just still cooling down, but I made her feelings towards Jesse permanent? I would never, ever forgive myself.

"How a mother deals with her child's misbehavior is none of your business," she said stiffly as she stirred skim milk and half a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee.

"It is when that child is the man I'm in love with," I said.

I felt like fainting, or running away, or hiding under the table.

But knowing that I might, just might, make things better for Jesse kept me glued to my seat.

She sniffed.

"Please listen to me. Jesse is really hurt by the stuff you said to him, and I hate seeing him like this," I pleaded. She glared at me over her mug.

"Jesse wouldn't have to worry about that if he just broke up with you," she said bluntly. "He's making his decision. If he wants you over his family, then I guess I've raised him wrong. If he chooses you, he deserves you." Ouch. That was harsh. But I pressed on.

"Jesse isn't making any decisions," I told her. "He loves both of us. You need to accept that there's another woman in his life now," I said. She snorted.

"Woman? You're just a girl." I took a deep breath.

"I may be young, but I love Jesse, and he loves me. And you. And he's not choosing between us. I'm okay with that. You need to be, too."

"If it were almost any other girl," she said scathingly, "I would accept it. It's not that he is in love, it is who he is in love with." I sighed.

"Can't you just trust his judgment? He's your son. He's twenty years old—he's old enough to make his own decisions. You raised an absolutely incredible and intelligent man. Shouldn't you be able to trust in the instincts you gave him?"

"You aren't right for him."

"Because I'm not Hispanic?" I asked frankly. She didn't deny it. "Listen, Mrs. De Silva. I know I'm not Mexican like you guys. I know I was never instilled with a second language and all of that culture as a child. I was raised without a religion, learning just English with no father for the rest of my life. But I didn't have any control over that. No one does. How can you say that two people can't be together because of a background neither of them had any choice in?" She looked at me with an unreadable expression on her face. "Just because I don't speak Spanish and I've never had paya before doesn't mean I'm not capable of loving and being with Jesse."

"Paella," she corrected, but it wasn't hostile. Just… resigned.

"Right," I said. "Listen. I'm not asking you to like me. All I want is for Jesse to be happy. And he won't be happy unless you let him back into your life." She looked away for a moment.

"You love him?" she asked.

"With all my heart." I felt a bit weird admitting this to his mom, but I pushed that aside. She sighed.

"I do not like it. But… he is an adult now." She sighed, like it was painful for her to admit it. "He can make his own decisions." I beamed, and she shot me a glare. "I still do not approve. But I guess I can accept."

"Thank you," I said, happiness coursing through my body. "That's all I ever wanted."

She sniffed again, and finished her coffee. I finished my tea, and paid for both.

"Would you like to come back to the apartment?" I asked. "Jesse would love to see you." She picked up her bag and grudgingly followed me.

I played Attentive Hostess, and managed to find a slice of banana bread that I had made a few days earlier, and gave it to her while we waited for Jesse to come back. She ate it with some fervor.

"That Mark boy must be a fairly talented cook; this isn't bad," she commented, almost to herself. I hid a grin as I busied myself in getting glasses of water.

"I made it, actually," I said, and her eyes widened slightly.

We didn't have to wait long for Jesse to come back. About ten minutes later, the door opened. "Susannah," Jesse called, "I'm back." He came into the kitchen, and stopped dead.

"Mother… Susannah…" he was at a loss for words. I didn't blame him. To his knowledge, here was his mother, who had disowned him, sitting at his kitchen table eating banana bread with the girl who she had disowned him for. "What's going on?"

"She and I had a little chat," Mrs. De silva said. Jesse looked shocked. He sat down with us.

"Chat?" She took Jesse's hand and patted it in a way mothers did.

She didn't say much to Jesse, but the fact that she was talking to him was enough for him. The funk he was in lifted right away, and he was happy again.

And seeing him happy meant the world to me.

00000000000000000000000

Okay, I don't know how good that was, but did it quench your need for an update before I left? I hope so. I totally didn't edit it, though, so I hope there aren't any grievous errors.

Reviewing is cool.

Do it. ;)