Page 142 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

“It is grand, isn’t it? May I sit?”

“Of course.” I hop up and pull a chair out for her. She grins at me and touches my cheek.

“We can never say thank you enough,” she says.

“Don’t start.”

She pats the top of my hand.

“Mom, if your lawn matters so much to you, and I know it does, why can’t you see that my show matters to me in the same way? Or why can’t he?”

She sits back a little flummoxed.

Her voice is small. “I don’t know.” She sighs. “Perhaps because we don’t understand it. And we’re so happy, it’s all we want for you too.”

“Your path isn’t mine,” I say and I sound like the Harpy.

“Then what is?”

“I have no clue right now. There’s an email on my phone I’ve not read, and it corresponds to texts from my production partners that I also haven’t read.”

I stand and circle the flagstone patio, running my hands through my hair. “If I don’t look then maybe it’s not true.”

“Your show?”

“My guess is it’s been given a hiatus status since we won’t meet production deadlines and they can’t sell advertising without a product.”

She folds her hands in her lap and settles herself a little.

“And you’re here.”

I nod. “Do not layer any kind of guilt onto this whole situation. I’m here because I want to be and I chose to be.” I waggle a finger in her face and she playfully knocks it away. But it’s true, I can’t take anything else on.

“It’s an unfortunate byproduct of the relentless schedule we set. If one thing went sideways in any big way it wouldn’t work. I’m supposed to be in post by this time but it’s fine. You needed me and I’m here.”

Or did I make sure I was here for this long because I’m hiding? Did I not want to finish production? Fuck. I don’t know. I will pay Liesel and Bill for the whole season if it takes me a lifetime.

I should be more depressed about the show but it somehow feels as if I don’t fit there anymore.

My mother says, “That’s why we’ve decided to lift all restrictions on the money. You’ve shown us the kind of man you are.”

I snort out a laugh and look to the sky. “I don’t need it.” I don’t want it, I want to earn it.

“But you’re unemployed and I don’t suppose you’ll take your father’s offer, which is no longer mandatory.”

“Damn straight it’s not.” I turn and my father is standing in the doorframe with the therapist behind him. He shuffles forward looking every bit the man who wants to be the man again.

“Thanks. I don’t want the money. And if you give it to me, I know where I’ll put it. I’ll pay off the rest of Liesel and Bill’s contracts and then there are a few places I’ve seen in the world that could benefit from some clean drinking water, school supplies or soccer balls.”

My mother covers her heart with her hand as my father holds onto the back of a chair.

“And her?”

“That’s done. That was never anything, just a cheap ploy to get the money, ironically.”

My father pauses and says, “There’s nothing cheap about the way that woman showed up for you, for us. Or the way she looked at you. The way she made you more of a man than we’ve ever seen before. And it has nothing to do with a ring. The question is now, as it always has been. What kind of man do you want to be?”

“Okay. I get it.”