Julie Hyzy - Eggsecutive Orders

“We have a lot to do,” I said.

“But if Kap wants to come along with us, I think it would be nice,” Mom said.

Nice?

As if given a great gift, Kap’s smile grew. I wanted to ask my mother what was wrong with her all of a sudden, but the words died on my lips. Kap pointed to something in the distance, which immediately captured Mom’s full attention. They started walking south, and I fell in behind them with Nana.

“What the heck just happened?” I asked.

She leaned in toward me. “Your mother’s been going through a tough time.”

“She has?” I stared down at her. “What kind of a tough time?”

Nana linked her arm through mine. “I’d call it a delayed midlife crisis, but that sounds too pat. She’s been moved out of the counselor job she loved at the women’s shelter into a position that’s far below her skills. They’re downsizing, or so they say. What’s really happening is that they’re pushing the older, well-paid workers out or into lesser jobs so that they get disgusted and quit. She used to be excited to go to work every day-to help people. Now she just sits at a desk and makes phone calls to raise money.”

“They made her a telemarketer?”

Nana nodded.

“She never told me.”

“Of course not.” Nana slid a look at the two of them in front of us. “And on top of it all, she’s been lonely, Ollie. Very lonely. I’m not the most exciting company, you know.”

“Nana…”

“It’s true. I’m still pretty active and I still volunteer at the hospital, but when your mom comes in from work I can see the dejection in her eyes. There’s nothing for her to look forward to anymore.”

“She has friends…” The image of Mom sitting in a dark room lit only by the flickering television flashed through my mind. “Doesn’t she?”

“Most of them are married, and they do couple things.” Nana shrugged, and then answered my unasked question. “Even though your mother has been on her own for a long time, things have changed for her now. It’s as though when she lost her job she lost a part of herself.”

I didn’t know if I could talk around the hard lump that had suddenly lodged in my throat.

Ahead of us, my mom laughed. Kap laughed, too, their heads leaning toward each other.

There was something about him that didn’t seem authentic, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. The two of them laughed again and my mom smiled at Kap in a way that made her look ten years younger.

Nana whispered-close to my shoulder. “This trip out to see you, Ollie, was all your mother talked about for weeks. It gave her something important to look forward to.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“In some ways, it’s nice that you don’t have to work while we’re here.”

I felt the now-familiar stab of disappointment. For fleeting moments, the horrible specter of Minkus’s death disappeared. But then it all came rushing back with a sharpness that made me suck my breath. “I wanted so much to show you the White House.”

“Your mother wants so much to spend time with you. Maybe all this is working out for the best.”

Nana’s arm in mine felt small, yet it was a comfort. She patted me. “Sometimes we just need to wait and see. Time will tell and before you know it, you’ll be back in the White House kitchen again, and everything will be back to normal.”

I bit my lip. Weren’t those the exact words I’d used to reassure Bucky just this morning?

“Thanks, Nana,” I said.

My mom hummed as she made us a late lunch back at my apartment. I’d offered to do the cooking-after all, that was what I did for a living and I wasn’t doing much of it these days-but she insisted. Said she wanted to take care of me while she still had the opportunity to do so. A pointed look from Nana warned me not to argue.

“So what did you and Mr. Kapostoulos talk about, Mom?”

He’d accompanied us to the Vietnam War Memorial and to the World War II Memorial, which Nana had particularly wanted to see. He spent most of his time chatting with my mom, leaving me and Nana to wonder about their conversation. At the World War II Memorial, after we’d walked around the expansive structure, he thanked us for sharing part of our day with him and he spoke briefly to my mom, alone.

“He prefers to be called Kap,” Mom said.

“Right.” I wondered if my smile looked as disingenuous as it felt. “So what did you talk about? Did he want to know all about your life history?”

“Not yet, not all of it,” she said with a sly smile. “But he did tell me that he encouraged Ruth to call and apologize to you for her outburst at Arlington yesterday.”

“He didn’t.”

“It seemed important to him.” She glanced at her watch, then at her purse on the counter.

“That’s all I need,” I muttered. A thought occurred to me. “Did he ask for your phone number?”

“Ollie. I don’t even have a phone number here. He knows I live in Chicago.”

“You have a cell phone.”

She turned away and went back to humming. Nana warned me with her look to stop asking questions. But I couldn’t let it go. “Did you give it to him?”

Finally, Mom turned. Her hair was pulled back, and her face was flushed, but she was smiling. She looked so pretty, so vivacious and so full of life. Kap had put that sparkle in her eyes just by paying her some attention. I sighed, knowing I should let it go. But I couldn’t.

“Yes, I did,” Mom said in a tone that dared me to object. She placed three bowls of tortilla soup on the table. They steamed with freshness and a hint of spice. I started in on mine and was immediately rewarded with a taste of home. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Nana kicked me under the table. I took another sip of soup and pretended not to hear.

Mom waited. Nana kicked me again.

“Nope,” I lied. “Not at all.”

“Good, because he and I are going out Friday.”

I opened my mouth in protest, but a third swift kick to my shin shut me up. Bending my head, I concentrated again on my soup.

“That’s wonderful, Corinne,” Nana said. “Where is he taking you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Mom,” I said, putting my spoon down, “we don’t even know this man. How do you know it’s safe to go out with him? He could be a masher.”

“A masher!” She laughed. “I used to use that line on you when you were a teenager.”

“Mom, I’m serious. You know nothing about him.”

“He was good friends with Carl Minkus,” she said. “A very famous NSA agent.”

“Yeah, and that famous agent is dead.”

She shook her head, but kept smiling. “You sound like an overprotective parent.”

“But you just met him.”

“In fact,” she added mischievously, “I think you’d make a great parent.” She fixed me with a glare. “Exactly when do you plan to give me grandchildren? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

She always knew what buttons to push to circumvent an argument. I’d only finished about half my soup, but I stood up. “I’m sorry, this is great, but I’ll have it later. I promised to stop by Bucky’s house, and then I have dinner plans with Suzie and Steve.” I carried my bowl to the side to cover with plastic wrap before placing it in the fridge. “And I need to call Tom.”

Excusing myself, I blew out a breath. My mother knew we were on dangerous ground here. Marriage and babies were not something I cared to discuss. Not now at least. Maybe not ever. I didn’t see myself toting around tots anytime soon. My chosen career was in a male-dominated field and while all the rhetoric claimed that women could have families and maintain careers, too, I knew that in this extremely competitive arena I needed to hold tight to every edge I could wrap my enthusiastic fingers around. I’d been top chef here for a relatively short time. And as soon as the next administration took over, I could be out of a job. Kids were not on my horizon. The topic wasn’t open for discussion, and Mom knew it.