Olivia Goldsmith - Bad Boy

Jon gave up and gave in. Until he left her, Jon’s dad had always given in to Janet, too.

In less than ten minutes, Jon found himself standing in front of a chic Seattle cafe. Thank God there was no line yet, but by the time they’d finished and he’d waved good-bye to his second stepmother, more than two dozen people were waiting. Jon consulted his watch, panicked, and hopped on his bike. He pedaled like a madman, out of downtown, past the park, through the wealthier part of Seattle, and into his old neighborhood.

At Corcoran Street, Jon pulled his bike into the driveway of a brick bungalow. The house was covered in creeper and surrounded by flower beds. He ran past a well-tended bed, which reminded him to double back to the bike for yet another bouquet, the largest one.

He grabbed it and ran up to the door. There under the buzzer, the brass name plate read J. DELANO. Before he could knock, the door was thrown open by an attractive dark-haired woman who actually looked a lot like Jon.

“Jonathan!” his mother exclaimed.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” Jon embraced her warmly, crushing the flowers between them.

“Right on time!” his mother said. She took the flowers and patted his cheek with obvious deep affection. “Oh, honey. Peonies! God, they’re way before season. They must have cost you a fortune.”

“It’s okay, Mom. My allowance is bigger than it used to be.”

She laughed. “But how’s your appendix?” she asked.

“It’s still missing—but I’m good,” he said. He’d had an emergency appendectomy three years ago and it had frightened the hell out of her. She still asked about it, but it had come to mean his health in general.

“Did you see Rainier today?” she asked.

“Yes. And Mount Baker,” he told her.

They went through the living room and into the kitchen. “You came alone?” she asked.

“Yes. Why?” Jon asked.

“I thought maybe you’d bring Tracie.”

Jon smiled. Though he and Tracie had been close friends from the time they met, his mother still hinted or hoped they were more. Or that he’d bring some other girl—a real girlfriend—home. While all of Chuck’s ex-wives focused on who Chuck’s new girlfriend was, his mom focused on who Jon’s girlfriend was. He knew she wanted him to be happy, and that she wanted grandchildren for herself and for him. It wasn’t that Jon wouldn’t love to meet a woman and settle down, it was just that women he met seemed to want to settle down with someone other than him. In his social life he was a disappointment to himself and others. He sighed. He’d have liked to oblige, but …

“… This holiday’s always hard on her,” his mother was saying as she put the flowers in a vase.

Jon didn’t bother to tell his mom that he’d thought of Tracie—sometimes he thought he thought of Tracie too much—but that she was booked up with the latest loser and her old friend from San Bernadino or somewhere.

“She was busy. But I’ll see her tonight. You know, our midnight brunch.”

“Well, give her my love,” she told him.

“Sure,” he agreed as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wrapped box. He put it on the counter between them.

“Oh. A present? Jon. It’s not necessary.”

“I know that traditionally on Mother’s Day you’re supposed to steal your mom’s bank card and go on a spree. I just thought this once we’d be untraditional.”

Jon made a lot of money. Well, it was not a lot of money compared to what the four initial founders of his firm made, but it was a lot of money for a guy his age. And he didn’t spend it on much, since he was usually too busy working to have time to shop. Plus, he didn’t want anything. He had all the toys—stereos and laptops and video equipment—he could possibly want and very little time to listen, play with, or watch them. When he wasn’t working, he was thinking about work or sleeping. So, for him to spend some bucks on his mother was no big deal. It was deciding what she might like that was difficult. In the end, he had let Tracie pick something out. She was great at shopping.

“You’re so thoughtful. You sure didn’t get that from your father.” There was an uncomfortable pause, just for the tiniest moment. His father was the one subject Jon had asked that they not speak about. His mother laughed and unwrapped the gift. She held up the jade earrings. “Oh, Jonathan! I love them!” And it was clear she really did . Tracie always knew stuff like that. His mother went to the hall mirror and held them up, then preened for a moment. It made Jon happy. “So, are we going to Babbette’s for lunch?” she asked as she at last put the earrings on.

“Don’t we always?” Jonathan responded without hesitation, despite the protests that Barbara’s breakfast and Janet’s brunch were making in his stomach.

“Let’s capture the moment,” his mother said as she grabbed her Polaroid and led Jon outside to the wisteria bush. “All I have to do is figure out the automatic timer and we’re all set.” She took about half an hour doing it, while he waited as patiently as he could. Then she scurried from the camera to him before the timer went off.

And, with a flash, the moment was over.

Jon was exhausted. He was only twenty-eight, but he wondered how many more Mother’s Days he could survive before they killed him. He had three more stepmothers to get through, despite the three meals distending his gut. But tea, an early dinner, and a late supper were all on the agenda before he could meet Tracie at midnight. Grimly, Jon climbed on his bike and pedaled off into the Seattle rain.

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