Flipping Coins

So apparently, Jordan was staying for two weeks. (Sweet!)

For some reason, his band mates needed a two week break from touring, and just the music business in general. In effect, Jordan thought that the best way to spend his break was in Vegas--with me.

Now I know what you’re thinking--is he staying with me? The answer is no. Jordan was residing in the Four Seasons hotel two blocks away, and he had not even considered asking me if he could crash at my place, nor had I considered offering.

I am not a sleaze, thanks.

One week of heaven drifted by, and I had already taken three days off. We did everything Vegas could offer to a couple lost in the game of puppy love--from going to a few casinos and acting as though we were in the middle of a scene from one of the newer James Bond movies--Casino Royale--to bowling in the most run down places available to Vegas natives just to be able to truthfully say we've been to the hood. Jordan even went to my cake classes, “accidentally” brushing his index finger a fair few times along Kiarra’s Winnie the Pooh themed, oval treat.

After one week, Jordan thought it best to tell my mother about our relationship.

Now, my mom wasn’t your typically mom. She thought and seemed ten years younger than she actually was--no Botox or anything. Sure, she has her occasional slips of age when her forgetfulness gets the best of her (which, might I add, is where I inherited that lovely trait from), but all in all, she’s a spirited, fun-loving mom.

In my life, I had dated a wonderful total of two guys before Jordan. Yes, it’s the sad truth, but I wasn’t into the whole mushy-corny-I’m attracted to you thing in my schooling years. It was too cliché, but I had two exceptions: Tyler Jacob Hamilton and (believe it or not) Brent Williams.

The story of Tyler is simple: two weeks + no commitment on my side=train wreck. The story of Brent is a bit more complicated: he needed a date to the senior dance; me--being the only member of our group who had the pleasure of having boobs attached to their chest--was guilted into going with him by Ryan and Spence. I went with him--we danced, we talked, we made out, he took me home, and then we became a ‘thing’ for two hours the next band practice before I broke it off. The end. =)

Anyways, my mom only knows about Tyler, and--as far as she knows--I am still a virgin. So the whole Brendon thing is a mystery to her.

So, given my sad love history, this would be the first time I’ve brought a boy home in 3 years.

I nervously awaited the door to open, gripping Jordan’s hand with my almightily powerful womanly force. Jordan chuckled and stared at me from the side of his eyes, enjoying the scene I was making and the tiny twinge of effort I was impelling to his hand. I muttered the meaning of the middle finger to him and continued to anxiously gaze at my mom’s front door.

Before he could laugh again, the door whipped open, but no one was standing behind it to welcome us.

We stood there for a moment, confused, before we heard a distant voice call, “Come in!”

Jordan glanced at me with confusion, and I shrugged in response before following the voice’s orders and stepping inside.

“Mom?” I asked unsurely, jumping when the front door haphazardly slammed shut behind us.

“In the kitchen!” she shouted in response.

I sent Jordan a sheepish grin as we trotted forward, to the kitchen where Spanish music and laughter was loudly blaring.

Jordan pushed open the door to the kitchen to reveal my mom--clad in a purple cocktail dress with a matching tiara pushed in the middle of her frizzy, highlighted curls--dancing Flamenco style while opening several steaming Styrofoam boxes that smelled of rice and vegetables.

“Uh--ma?” I called, staring at my swaying mother with wide, disbelieving eyes.

She smiled, sprinkling salt into one of the boxes while turning on her left heel. “Yes, honey?”

“Mom, we’re here,” I said bluntly, trying to get it through to her just how much embarrassment I was under at that moment.

My mom’s grin widened as she nodded her head. “I see that, Amelia.”

I covered my face with my hand. “Mom!” I slurred. “Don’t call me that!”

My mom finally looked up at me. “But it’s your name,” she stated seriously, the grin faltering from her young face.

“It’s Emie! I go by Emie, mom! How many times do I have to tell you that?” I yelled in agitation, untangling my fingers from Jordan’s to use dramatic gestures, stressing my feelings.

My mom rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t be so dramatic, Amelia!” and then she turned to Jordan, her smile returning. “How are you, Jordan?”

Jordan, who had been smiling at my mom since the moment we had arrived, smiled even wider. “I’m doing good, Misses B. I see you’ve prepared a grand feast for us.”

My mom laughed, revealing the age lines that her youthfulness hides so well. “Well, you should know by now that I’m no cook. Your mom would have to make dinner for us every night in Massachusetts, remember?”

“I remember well,” Jordan responded, still grinning.

“I hope you like your veggies,” my mom declared as she stirred a box of stringy noodles and an assortment of greens. “I couldn’t remember if it was you who was the vegan, so I just went with Chinese to play it safe.”

“That’s Brendon, mom,” I explained, rolling my eyes. “And he’s not even a vegetarian anymore.”

My mom met my eyes with her glowing blues ones, smiling and ceasing to dance for once. “Well it never hurts to eat healthy, Amelia.”

X………..X

All in all, the dinner went well.

We learned that my mom had bought some automatic door opener from some old people shop (I didn't want to know what business she had there in the first place), and that’s how the front door had mysteriously opened and slammed shut by itself. Jordan wanted to know where to purchase one.

My mom took the news well--saying that she knew from the second I had called her and said Jordan’s name that she had figured out what was going on between us. She even claimed that she knew this was bound to happen from the first time Jordan and I had ever met, but I wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t some love fortune teller, for crying out loud.

One thing did bug me, though.

While Jordan went outside to start the car, my mom stood by the door with me to say goodbye.

Her teal eyes peered into mine, wide and caring as she took my shoulders into warm hands. “Amelia,” she stated softly, as serious as she’ll ever go, “I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

I squinted my eyes in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

“I see trouble in your eyes,” my mom explained in a quiet, calm tone. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I answered automatically, knowing that I wasn’t being completely honest. “I’m happy. I’ve got the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for. Nothing is wrong.”

She gave me the pointed stare. “Something is wrong, Amelia.”

“Okay,” I gave in, trying to be humorous. “Maybe the trouble in my eyes is caused by the fact that you keep calling me by my full name.” Another pointed stare. “Fine!” I yelled, looking up to the sky. “I’ll tell you!”

She didn’t smile, but gripped my shoulders tighter. “Please, Amelia.”

“I--I’m having some issues with my…friends,” I spat out, trying to avoid her powerful blue stare.

Her thin eyebrows furrowed. “Those boys? The ones in that musical group called---”

“Panic at the Disco,” I finished for her. “And it’s called a band, mom. But yes--I’m having trouble with those boys.”

Instead of asking for more of the story, instead of avoiding the confrontation of feelings, instead of sending me another pointed stare for my mocking her, my mom did the strangest thing--she smiled.

Her dimples deepened as she stared at me with affection and this strange sense of knowing beating within her teal, wide eyes. Shaking her head lightly, she grinned at the sidewalk below us and said the most bizarre thing I could have never thought of….

“I knew it would come to this,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “I knew things would come to here.”

“What?” I whispered, staring at her in bewilderment. Maybe her age really was catching up to her.

She met my eyes again, padding my shoulders as if in comfort. She smiled. “Amelia, this will pass. Everything you have right now will turn on you, and not in a bad way. You just don’t understand things yet, but you will soon. I know that right now I seem crazy, but you will one day understand my words. Just give it time, and don’t give up.”

Before I could further question her sanity, an impatient honk erupted from behind me.

“Now go, Amelia,” my mom commanded, kissing me on my forehead. “Go back to your wonderful boyfriend.” Something in her tone sounded out of place…almost humorous. But it didn’t make sense, and it hurt my brain to think about it.

I shot her another confused expression as I slipped from her arms, walking to the waiting Jordan inside my car.

“What was that about?” he asked as he pulled from my mom’s driveway. “It looked like you guys were getting into a spiritual groove or some weird shit just then.”

I stared at my mom’s tiny figure waving to us goodbye, her smile visible even from yards away. “I don’t know what that was about,” I answered truthfully.

And, at the time, I doubted that I ever would