Susan Crosby - I'm Your Man

“There you are!” Cherie called, waving off the hostess, then heading toward them. She greeted at least a half-dozen guests as she made her way through the funky restaurant, a throwback to the old flower-power days complete with psychedelic art on the walls and the servers wearing beads, headbands and long, flowing outfits.

Daniel stood and held a chair for Cherie, but first she went around the table, giving hugs and kisses. She included Daniel before she sat down, as if they were old friends.

“You don’t quite fit the picture I had of you in my head,” she said to Daniel after ordering a glass of white zinfandel.

“Which was?”

“I was thinking, Dr. Cregg, professor of English. Tweed jackets and a pipe. A bow tie, maybe, receding hair line. And a certain tone.”

“What kind of tone?”

“A sort of lofty use of language, with a Bostonian accent, even if he came from Baton Rouge.”

He laughed. “I’ve met those professors. They were my inspirations to be the opposite.”

“A worthy goal.” She leaned toward Maureen. “So, adorable girl, what’s going on?”

Maureen summed up the events in an upbeat manner as Riley used the restaurant-supplied crayons to draw on their butcher-paper tablecloth.

“Will you take me to the ’ramics place, Auntie Cherie? I want to make my mom an I-Love-You plate for when she comes back to get me,” he said, lifting his head finally.

“That’s a date, young man.”

His smile lit up his entire face and got even wider somehow when she picked up a crayon and started drawing with him. Forehead to forehead, they chattered like old friends.

Daniel was uncharacteristically quiet.

“You must be tired,” Maureen said to him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. A little. How is it you can get jet lag without leaving the time zone?”

“It’s just your body letting down from the stress of travel,” Cherie said. “A good night’s sleep and you’ll be right as rain.”

“I wonder how good my nights are going to be,” he said. “My new roomie, Ty, gets off work at nine. I think his night is just beginning at that point. Should be interesting. Think I’ll be bunkin’ with you, Master Riley, when you na—rest in the afternoon.”

Riley frowned. “Grandma doesn’t have bunk beds, Papa.”

Daniel grinned. “It’s an expression, bud. It means lying down to rest.”

“Maybe you’d like to help me one day when I deliver meals,” Cherie said.

“Do you have a motorcycle? Our pizza guy has a motorcycle.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun? Alas, I don’t even have a driver’s license, so they give me a driver. He waits in the car while I take the dinners inside to people who can’t fix a meal for themselves.”

“Why can’t they?” He’d abandoned his artwork to listen to her.

“Mostly because they’re old. Like me.”

He giggled. “You’re not old.”

“Well. Isn’t that nice?” She beamed. “Do you think you’d like to help me out sometime? Your grandma helps on Saturdays. They’d love to see that sweet smile of yours, I can tell you that.”

“Sure. I can, can’t I, Papa?”

Maureen took a quick swig of her wine, hiding her hurt that Riley had asked Daniel for permission instead of her. He was staying with her.

“That’s up to your grandma,” Daniel said. “She’s the boss now.”

“Can I, Grandma?”

“Of course.” She caught Cherie looking intently at her.

“I hafta go to the bathroom.”

“Okay, bud.” Daniel stood. “Let’s go.”

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Cherie asked the second they were alone.

“I wish Daniel weren’t here. Frankly, I want Riley to myself.”

“Well, I can see your jealousy, Maureen, and Riley’s going to pick up on that, too. You’ve got Riley. Let go of the old hurt, and everyone will be happier.”

“I’m trying.”

“Building a relationship takes time.”

“I know.” Maureen rubbed her forehead. “I do know. He calls Daniel Papa.” She put a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, to sound belligerent about it.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Daniel has a nickname, Papa. Riley calls me Grandma. Nothing special.”

Cherie sat back, holding her wineglass, swirling the contents. “Papa is probably the most common variation on Grandpa. It’s those double-repeat syllables that babies learn so much easier—mama, dada, papa. He was there every day with Riley. Aren’t you being overly sensitive?”

“Maybe.” Probably. “It’s just been a long, trying day dealing with everything.”

Cherie sipped her wine, then set down the glass gently. “How’s Ted taking it all?”

Maureen summed it up, adding, “He’s being amazingly patient.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been wondering how he would handle it if you ever didn’t go along with what he wanted.”

“I don’t know what that means, Cherie.”

“Just what I said. You defer to him, that’s all. Today you didn’t. I’m glad he’s being patient.”

Even if Maureen had wanted to explore the point further, Daniel and Riley returned then.

“Grandma, that bathroom is crazy!”

Since Maureen was a regular customer at the restaurant, she knew what Riley had discovered. “How is it crazy?”

“There’s no reg’lar lights but there’s colors all over the walls and they…glow. What’s it called, Papa?”

“Day-Glo paint and black lights.”

“Black lights. Isn’t that funny? Papa says that’s what the hippers liked.”

“Hippies,” Cherie said. She touched her peace-symbol necklace. “I was a hippie.”

“You were?” His eyes went round. “Did you glow?”

Cherie laughed. “Oh, honey, did I ever. I glowed like a neon sign.”

“I’ll show you pictures,” Maureen said. “She was beautiful.”

“She’s still beautiful,” Daniel said, lifting his glass in a toast.

“Well. Flattery will get you everywhere.” Cherie clinked glasses with him, then Riley wanted to join in. After much toasting and clinking, their meals were brought and everyone dug in as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

After dinner they walked to Daniel’s apartment. Ty wasn’t there.

“This isn’t too bad,” Maureen said, looking around. Nothing was new but it wasn’t too cluttered or dirty.

“I decided to clean the place up a little before I went back to your house. It reminded me too much of dorm life.” Daniel led them into his bedroom. He turned to Maureen. “Any chance you’ve got an extra set of sheets you can loan me? I don’t think even bleach will help these.” He lifted the ratty quilt to unearth equally ratty sheets.

Maureen pictured his house in Seattle, a three-bedroom craftsman with wood-shingle siding on a quiet, tree-lined street, a far cry from this tiny, street-noisy place. She caught Cherie’s pointed look.

“I’d be glad to loan you some bedding,” Maureen said. “Anything else you need?”

“Nope, thanks.”

Cherie glanced at her watch. “I’m supposed to meet some friends in a few minutes, so I’ll leave you. Thank you for dinner, Daniel.” She hugged Riley. “We’ll make a date soon, okay?”

“Okay. Auntie Cherie? You know my mom, right?”

“I know your mom very well. Your mom and grandma lived with me until your mom was six, just like you.”

“Really?”

“That’s right.”

“She’ll come back, right?” he said, almost whispering.

Maureen’s throat ached. Why did he have so little faith in his mother returning? Why was he so insecure? Jess had never once left him.

“She’ll be back just as soon as she’s done with the TV show.”

“You promise?”