Love, Life And Linguine Part 18

"It's okay. Let's blame our mothers."

"Sounds good to me," Allison says with a smile.

I Believe in Love Aaron Schein is waiting for me at Cafe Louis. As the servers set up the restaurant for dinner, Aaron talks with Bette at the counter. I smile at them. "That's a dreamy look," Bette says.

Sitting on a stool, I say, "I just met a very handsome man."

"Who?" Bette and Aaron say.

"Enrique," I say. "He's tall and dark and mysterious."

"Go on," Bette says.

"He was just so...pa.s.sionate. Like he believes in love."

"And?" Aaron is unimpressed.

"You wouldn't understand."

"What wouldn't I understand?" Aaron says.

"Pa.s.sion."

"I understand pa.s.sion," Aaron insists. "I'm all about pa.s.sion."

Bette raises her eyebrows and drifts to the other end of the counter. I smile at Aaron, but the pa.s.sion between Phoebe and Enrique has me thinking about Farmer Joe and his pa.s.sion for farming, the ocean, his guitar, and me. "What are you pa.s.sionate about, Aaron? What do you believe in?"

"Lots of things."

"Tell me."

Aaron thinks for a few minutes, then stands. "I believe in supply-side economics. I believe that Kurt Cobain was a genius. I believe that California wines are just as good as European wines. I believe in two-point conversions. I believe there is intelligent life on other planets. I believe Al Gore won the 2000 election. I believe in stem cell research, but not cloning. I believe William Shakespeare wrote alone. I believe in love. I believe in b'shaert b'shaert, the fateful meeting of two people who are meant to be together forever. I believe that when you find your soul mate, you love her and cherish her for the rest of your life."

Aaron finishes his speech, and breathes. "How's that?"

"Pretty good." Seriously.

"Good," Aaron says. "Listen, Christopher says the restaurant will probably have a slow weekend. My sister's birthday party is this weekend at my family's house in Avalon. Why don't you come? What's a Jersey girl without weekends down the sh.o.r.e? You haven't had a break all summer."

That's not exactly true, is it? I had my Fourth of July fireworks with Farmer Joe on LBI. But Aaron doesn't need to know about that.

I say, "I'd love to come to Avalon."

The next morning, I'm surprised to see Mom sitting at the kitchen table. "You look like a woman who used to live here," I tell her.

Mom doesn't answer. Her lips are pressed together, and she's staring at a felt-covered jewelry box. I walk around Mom's chair and look over her shoulder. She's staring at a diamond ring. It looks like the engagement ring Dad gave her. Mom stopped wearing it when Dad bought her a channel-set diamond band for their twenty-fifth anniversary. Why is Mom staring at her engagement ring? She must be thinking about Dad.

I put my hand on Mom's shoulder. "Is that the ring Daddy gave you?"

"No," Mom says. "It's the ring Sid gave me."

The Ring Thing "Want to see it?" Mom offers me the velvet box.

"No." I back away from the box as if it is evil.

"It's a gorgeous ring." Mom gazes at the ring. "You are very pretty. Yes, you are."

"Sid asked you to marry him."

"Yes." Mom looks at me with a small smile and big eyes. She wants to know what I think. Please, I silently beg, don't ask me what I think.

"I know what you think," Mom says. "You don't want me to marry Sid."

"You haven't known him that long. Isn't it too soon? That's what you said about me and Nick. What happened to taking things slowly?"

Mom nods and purses her lips. "I didn't say yes."

"Oh. What did you say?"

"That I care for him very much but I need some time to think."

"Good. That's good." I lean against the kitchen counter. "What do you think?"

"I love you very much, Mimi, but I don't want to share that with you."

I blink a few times. "Okay."

"I'm still your mother. I hope you'll respect whatever decision I make."

Why do I feel this way? Driving to the restaurant, I tell myself to be happy for Mom. But it comes down to this. I can't be happy about Mom without being sad about Dad.

Grammy Love, Part Two "Good morning," Grammy greets me. "Nellie's at the doctor's. He'll be here before lunch starts."

"Okay."

Grammy looks at my face. "What's the matter?"

I look at the concern in Grammy's face, and feel that I can tell her anything. "Mom's boyfriend proposed to her."

"Well, now." Grammy looks down at the bowl in front of her. "What do you think about that?"

"I'm trying to think happy thoughts. But they aren't coming."

Grammy works quietly. I drink my coffee and look out the back door of the restaurant. With her back to me, Grammy says, "Your mother loving this new man doesn't mean she didn't love your father."

"But Sid is so different from Dad."

"Good thing," Grammy says.

"What does that mean?"

Grammy sighs. "Bobbi didn't have it easy with Jay. He worked all the time. Long restaurant hours. Weekend nights. Holidays."

"Dad made it up to us." I turn back to the worktable.

"To you," Grammy says. "Maybe not to her."

"Is that why Mom wanted me to sell the restaurant? Because she resents it?"

"I can't speak for your mother," Grammy says.

More M&M's Madeline comes when I call her. She sits in a booth at Cafe Louis, facing me as I tell her my tale of maternal marriage. When I finish, Madeline narrows her eyes. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?"

"And Bobbi gets married to Sid. What's the big?"

I stare at Madeline. How can she not understand how this makes me feel? While I try to find the words to explain it, Madeline takes a sip of her root beer and adjusts the slipping strap of her white tank top. Finally she says, "This whole getting to know your family as an adult? It's rough. It's like, where do you fit into the family? Your brother has his own family. Your mom has her own thing. And you don't know where that leaves you. Am I right?"

"Yes. You're exactly right."

Madeline nods and plays with her straw. "Growing up sucks."

I agree. "Everything was so much easier when we were young. Younger. Like even five years ago. When I was twenty-five, I had my whole life ahead of me. Now I know what I want but I can't get it."

"You still think you want..."

"Husband. Children. Career. Everything."

"So, Mimi, how exactly would you do that? a.s.suming you save Cafe Louis, how would you manage a family and the restaurant?"

"My dad did it."

"Your dad had your mom," Madeline says. "If you're going to be like your dad, maybe you need to marry someone like your mom."

"Meaning?"

"Someone supportive. Your mom supported your dad for years."

"Yeah," I agree. "She did."

Madeline smiles. "Your mom's pretty amazing."

"Yes. She is."

What's for Dinner?

Driving to the townhouse, I tell myself that Mom should marry Sid. Why shouldn't she? Mom deserves every happiness she can find.

"Mom? Mom?" I rush into the townhouse and find Mom in her bathroom, wearing her nightgown and removing her makeup.

"What?" she says. "What's the matter?"

I stand before Mom, towering over her. "You should marry Sid."

Mom puts her palm on my forehead. "Are you sick? Do you have a temperature?"

"No, I'm not sick." I move away from her hand. "I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Mom says. "I don't need to marry Sid to be happy."

"So you're not going to marry him?"

"I don't know yet." Mom smears cream on her face. "We've only been dating for three months. I thought about what you said. It's too soon. You were right."

"No, no. I was wrong. It's statistically impossible for me to be right."

"And there's something else. Something happened."

Do I want to know? "What happened?"

"The other day, we were sitting on Sid's deck reading magazines. Oh, forget it."

"Okay."

"No, I'll tell you. It's silly, but..." Mom looks at me with white goop all over her face. She wants to tell me.

"Mom. What is it?"

"We were sitting there, and we'd been lounging around all day. At about five o'clock, Sid turns to me and says, 'What's for dinner?'"

"'What's for dinner?'"

"Yeah." Mom puts her hands on her hips. "Can you believe that?"

I don't get Mom's indignation. Part of me wants to jump on any excuse to berate Sid. But the other part of me..."I don't understand. What's wrong with asking about dinner?"

Mom throws her hands in the air. "Why should he a.s.sume that I'm the one who will cook dinner?"

"You don't usually cook dinner?"

"No," Mom says. "We cook together. Or we go out. That was the first time Sid a.s.sumed that dinner was my responsibility."

"Maybe he was simply asking what you wanted to eat for dinner. Like, 'What are we going to do about dinner?'"

"There was no 'we,'" Mom says. "So, I got up from my very comfortable seat on the deck. And I made dinner. But you know what, Mimi? I don't want to make dinner every night for someone. I did that for years. For you and Jeremy and your dad. I don't want to do it again."

I see what Mom is saying. Could this be what breaks up her and Sid? Do I want it to be? Sort of. However...