"I expect you this Friday, 6pm sharp," was the first thing I heard from my mother when I answered her call, more or less absent-minded.
"What?" I asked, partly confused, partly not having paid the attention this call might require.
"Friday, 6pm, dinner," my mother repeated, sounded strained and a bit annoyed.
"Mom, I don't think that will work," I said and before I could get to the reasoning my mother already interrupted me.
"Why not? I made arrangements for Demetrios Demakis to stop by. You remember him? You went to school together."
Of course, I remembered Demakis. He was an asshole back then and from what I heard through the grapevine over the years, he hadn't changed one bit.
"He copied every single of my answers from every single of my chemistry tests. And then had the audacity to claim I cheated when the teachers questioned the same stupid mistake in our tests."
"He works in law these days," my mother went on, ignoring galanty my pissed answer. It was her specialty, everything she didn't want to hear or know, didn't exist.
"He's the assistant of an assistant of an assistant from a small claims lawyer," I replied, annoyed. "I'd hardly call that working in law. Hell, I'm probably closer to that claim right now than he'll ever be."
"Why do you always have to be so negative?" my mother asked and for a moment I contemplated turning the tables. But it wouldn't lead to anything. "No wonder you are still single. It also doesn't help being on that liberation and independence path. No man wants that. Men want to know they can provide for their family and protect them. They don't need a woman who wants to do it all herself."
"Isn't that what your generation went on the streets for? To fight for more equality and independence?"
As expected she ignored my rhetorical question and got on with the program. "So, I'll see you Friday, 6pm?"
I let out a long sigh. "As much as I would like to take personal responsibility for my misgivings, I'm afraid this time I can blame someone else. I'm not going to be able to make it," I said, and heard my mother already say "Stephanie" in an almost threatening fashion.
"I can't make it because I'm not in town, mother. I'm on a business trip."
"When will you be back?" she asked, not missing a beat.
"I … um… I actually don't really know and don't have an exact and set date. It's kind of flexible and depends on my progress."
"Well, if it is so flexible, I don't see how you can't be here by 6pm this Friday!" my mother exclaimed and I felt like sighing once more. "Also, with a job at the button factory or even the personal product plant is no travel involved. You would never need to leave Trenton."
Why did that last statement sound more like a threat than anything?
"Maybe I actually like to get away from Trenton every once in a while?" I asked and was only partially lying. I liked Trenton and liked living there – but probably only because I had never actually gone anywhere and definitely never lived anywhere outside Trenton.
"Why?" my mother only asked and for a moment I contemplated how or even if to answer that.
"I…um…mom, I'm afraid I need to cut this short and have to hang up. I need to go, someone just called for me."
"It's 6pm!" my mother more or less said accusingly.
"Not in Denver, where I currently am. Here it's 4pm and I'm afraid I really need to go. I call you in the next few days, okay?" I said and before she even had a chance to reply or react, I hung up and saw Carlos standing in the door to the meeting room I had more or less escaped to when I saw Mother on my display.
"I don't think I've ever seen you lie," he stated amused.
"Because usually I don't," I replied truthfully. "But my mother requires a lot more time than just a few minutes. Also… she hit a topic I'm not too excited or happy about."
"You do know it would be absolutely okay to take a call, even if it takes an hour?" he asked, sounding curious. "You worked hard the last few weeks. And on some days probably more than everyone else."
"Thanks, but… my mother needs to be dealt with when I actually have the mindset for it. She's … special."
"Aren't all mothers?" he asked, amused and I needed to grin since he was probably right.
"I'd like to claim mine is the winner of extra-special."
"What makes her so extra-special than?" Carlos asked, walking into the meeting room and semi-closing the door behind him until it was barely ajar. He took a seat opposite of me and seemed to have all the time in the world.
"Apart from using every possible way and excuse to set me up on more or less random blind dates with people she either met or guys I have a loose connection with from high school?"
"Sounds a little like my own mother."
"Your mother sets you up on blind dates?" I asked, surprised. I don't know why it surprised me, but somehow I saw him as someone who rarely did anything he didn't want to do.
"Well, let's say she tries but hardly ever succeeds. We came to an understanding that she shouldn't intervene in what I consider private matters."
"And she accepted that?" I asked, incredulous. "Maybe you can give me some pointers how to achieve that? Mine doesn't seem to get the hints."
"She didn't speak to me for a good four months after that, so think carefully if you really want pointers from me," he admitted with a deep laugh.
"Four months? I might need these pointers sooner rather than later," I replied with an equally deep laugh.
"Bare in mind that my mother is Cuban and Latinos like to be overly dramatic," he stated, amused and with a grin.
"Doesn't that technically apply to you as well? I mean, being Latino and yet I can count how often there had been drama."
"I'm the exception," he winked and I needed to laugh.
"Ah, one of those," I admired playfully and saw him grin some more. "So your mother never succeeded?"
"In what exactly? Setting me up or getting me of the market?"
"Either?"
"Do you see a ring on my finger?"
"Well, marriage isn't always the final result or proves anything."
"So you don't have that whole dream wedding planned and picked out all the color schemes and what not?"
"Nope, been there, done that."
"Right, I remember. Vegas wedding. Hardly a dream wedding and certainly no color schemed involved."
I nodded as reply. What else was there to say?
"So you never plan on getting married than?"
"I wouldn't want to rule it out, but it isn't high up on my list of priorities. Also, I would need a decent and suitable guy for that. And if there is one thing that's guaranteed with my mother's candidates it's that their neither decent nor suitable."
"So, they are indecent and useless? Tell me more,"" Carlos asked, amused and with a long laugh at the end of his conclusion.
I opened my mouth several times, trying to come up with a smart reply when I realized what he actually was saying – or asking. While I certainly hadn't meant to imply what he had been asking and assuming, I realized he probably only said it to get a raise out of me. Just like back in Fargo all that time ago, when he would make an offhand comment and had me somewhat surprised or shocked. I didn't take the bait back then and I definitely wouldn't start taking it now.
I grinned at him mysteriously, got up and leaned next to his ear when I passed him on the way towards the door.
"You know, if any of them would be indecent, I'd actually consider that a win for once."
And then I left, leaving a speechless Carlos Manoso back in the meeting room.