“You’ve been pretty quiet over there,” Cliff says as he twists the steering wheel to make a left, the AC blaring but doing nothing as we turn into our neighborhood.
I force a smile. “You know, just a long day.”
He nods. “Gotcha. Anything in particular?”
I shake my head. “Nothing really, just that place . . . a bit of a nightmare at times, eh?” I search him for any hint of a reaction, but nothing lands.
“Hmm, well, we’re free for a few hours at least.” He hands me his phone. “Please play some music. Nothing jokey.”
I scroll his music app and find a current hits playlist. But as I’m about to hit play, a banner pings on the top of the screen, displaying a message from Sanjay: Great I’ll call you soon!
And everything inside me feels like it’s melting. It should have been easy. The department restructure is happening in two weeks, and I’ve done exactly what I set out to do with Cliff and more.
But it’s the more that painted things muddy.
And before really thinking, I say, “Your sister mentioned the other day you used to work in Vancouver?”
Cliff rubs his chin. “Yeah.”
“And your grandma, I heard she’s doing better since her hip surgery?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Almost a full recovery.”
He doesn’t have to elaborate; that’s his right. His plans for the future, doing what’s best for himself, are none of my business. The music croons through the stereo, low and sweet. Just because I can now play music without melting down doesn’t mean I’ve accomplished much. Not compared with anyone else.
Cliff taps his fingers to the beat, and I catch how close our arms are resting on the console. I try to swallow away the thought that rings through me at the sight: for the first time, I want to share more with someone. But no matter how small this car is, I don’t know how to penetrate the invisible wall between me and the world, between me and Cliff.
A message flashes on his screen for a second time, drawing both our gazes to the phone. I don’t see what’s on it before he picks it up. I plaster on a contented smile and force down my useless feelings. But when we pull onto the street in front of my apartment, all my blood freezes.
She’s standing on the front walkway.
I slump in my seat, trying to get low beneath the window. Useless. Cliff’s gaze tilts toward me. “You good?”
I nod. “Dandy. Hey, do you think you can maybe make another loop around the block—”
But she’s already at the window, crouching to peer into the car. She taps on the glass. “Jolene!” Mom calls. “Why you hiding from your mom?”
“This is your mom?” Cliff’s face splits into a grin.
“Yes. But—” Before I can stop him, Cliff is rolling down my window and waving.
Mom practically sticks her head inside of the car. “I come to take you shopping.” Then her eyes crawl to Cliff. “Who is this? He’s very handsome.”
“Mom, why didn’t you call?”
Cliff’s smile is too goofy, too wide. He reaches across me to extend his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cliff, Jolene’s . . . friend.” He looks toward me with a suddenly shy expression that flips my stomach.
“You too!” Mom suddenly exclaims, making Cliff startle. She looks down at me, and I can read her mind. I know exactly what she’s going to say. It happens in slow mo: “Armin doesn’t get jealous you drive home with such a good-looking man instead of him?”
Cliff’s temples flush, but then he pauses, looking straight ahead. He blinks and blinks as if registering the rest. If my heart wasn’t pounding like it wants to break free of my chest, if sweat wasn’t forming in all my creases, I’d be certain I was already dead.
I shake my head hard and look pointedly at my mom, hoping to convey “please shut up.”
Her eyes flash as they shift to Cliff, who is still stiff in his seat. “Oh no, is Cliff someone from work?” Then she lowers her voice, but not low enough. “Is it still a secret at work? He said he was a friend; I didn’t think work.”
I shake my head—where else would he be from? I mouth, “Mom. No.”
Cliff suddenly comes back to life, shifting aggressively to face forward and grab the steering wheel. “Sorry, I actually have to be off. Jolene, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I slide out of the car, and as soon as I push the door closed, he’s pulling away. As his car disappears, I turn to my mother. “You shouldn’t have done that! Cliff is the HR guy at my office, and now he knows.” My throat tightens like a vise. “That’s, like, really bad!”
She pats my hair. “It’s okay, he probably didn’t hear. And anyways, all of work will find out soon. You can’t keep a whole wedding secret.” Her hand taps my cheek. “Come, I’ll take you shopping! Cheer you up.”
Oh my lord. “I’m tired, Mom.”
“What? But I came all this way.” She huffs. And even though nobody asked her to, I’m well and truly screwed. Best not to resist my fate.
I make my way to the car, and that’s when I notice that my mom is the one going into the driver’s seat. She almost never drives herself anywhere. “Where’s Dad?” I ask cautiously.
Mom throws her hands up. “He’s being annoying—not taking me for all my errands. It takes a lot to make weddings go well, so I drove here myself. I’m trying to be more independent.” She says it with a capital I.
“That’s great.” Then my heart skips a beat. “Wait, what wedding are you planning?”
She mock slaps the air as I enter the vehicle. “Weddings take a long time to plan, we need to start now. Come, we’ll get you nice things now that you’re going to be a bride.” Her eyes skim me over. “You didn’t wear those clothes to work? Jolene, those pants are not professional with the pockets there. And you need to wear earrings, so people know you’re serious.”
“I don’t think anybody has taken me more seriously due to what’s in my earlobes.”
She clucks her tongue. “You don’t know.” But she grabs my hand, a frown pulling between her brows. “Where is the ring? He’s not cheapskate, right?”
I pull back my hand. “We’re going to pick one together. When the time is right.”
Mom twists the key and the car chugs on. As she focuses on peeling the car away from the road, I text Cliff:
I’m sorry about that. It’s a long story, will explain tomorrow. Thanks for the ride.
I try not to freak out that an answer doesn’t come right away. Or fifteen minutes later. Or twenty.
We pull into the parking lot of Westbrook Mall, which is Not Great. It’s mostly a food court, two discount luggage stores, a Walmart, and a sprinkling of clothing places with names like “Delightful Fashionista,” all with “fashion” from the same general supplier.
When we approach a place called Sheer Girl Designs, Mom digs her fingers into my wrist. “Come, let’s go see Dorsa.” She drops her grip as she runs to greet a Persian lady with a violently floral blouse and poufed-out, red-dyed hair.
Mom and the lady both jump and scream all sorts of standard Farsi greetings that, if translated directly, might sound intense. They aren’t saying hello; they’re literally offering to sacrifice themselves for each other. The shopkeeper takes off into the store, and Mom directs her attention back to me. “Jolene, come. Dorsa found the perfect dress for me.”
This Dorsa returns holding out a puce nightmare of sparkles, and both ladies’ faces shine just as bright. “I think this is respectful, yet still nice,” Mom says.
I nod, a creeping sickness pulling through me. “But what is it for?”
Dorsa grins widely beside me. “Congratulations on wedding, Jolene joon! I’m excited to be there!”
My insides tumble as Mom nudges Dorsa and, from the side of her lips, says, “We will have her hair and makeup done professionally for the wedding, so don’t think she looks like this.”
Dorsa nods and gestures behind me. “Jolene, go to the back and pick yourself the young people trendy clothes.” She winks. “For the bride, it’s discount.”
Dorsa goes back behind the till, and Mom pulls me by the biceps toward the back. I immediately haul free. “Mom, how many people have you told about this?”
Mom doesn’t look up as she flips through a rack. “Eh, nobody. Just some that would be too happy to keep it secret from.” Then she twists a brow up. “We had to make up for you keeping Armin hidden from me, your own mommy.”
Shit. This is already a toothpaste-out-of-tube situation. “Like I said, Armin and I want to keep this small.”
“Yes, it will be! Whatever you want, baby. But we need to have fun too.” She pulls a blouse from the rack. “Here, put this on, is good for work.”
I snatch the blouse from her harder than necessary and stick it right back on the rack. “Mom, I’m serious. Armin needs to keep it quiet; his mom isn’t well, and the excitement might be bad for her.”
She picks up the shirt again and shoves it back into my arms. “Yes, okay. No more wedding talk. Now put this on.”
I dutifully take the top into the curtained changing room. As I’m buttoning up the blouse, my phone buzzes. I grab it from my pocket and see it’s a text from Cliff.
Have a good night, Jolene.
My heart tumbles. What a terrible message to leave someone. Who does he think he even is?