I manage to leave the job site without being seen, except for Blake, who’s standing by his truck, his cell phone stuck to his ear. I don’t wave or slow down, but as I pass, we make eye contact and he winks.

He’s so gorgeous! I can barely believe how things happened today. I let myself have a moment of daft happiness over it. He likes me! He kissed me!

Kissed me? He ravaged my mouth, more like. The thought makes me smile while my whole body seems to throb with lust for him.

I’m over the moon but at the same time, shit-scared and not sure what to do.

By the time I get home, the codeine is wearing off. The pain isn’t as bad as it was, but before I do anything else, I head straight the kitchen, open a cabinet and take three ibuprofen gel capsules as insurance.

Something warm and furry wraps itself around my lower leg. It’s Dog, my enormous black cat. He looks up at me and makes an inquisitive “Rrrrr?” in the back of his throat. His emerald green eyes seem to glow against the blackness of his fur.

“Hey kitty, kitty,” I murmur, “yep I’m home early today.”

Without warning, he tries to launch himself upwards into my arms, misses, and goes sailing straight past me, giant paws flailing.

In his wake, a small clump of black fur floats gently down to the floor.

I shake my head, laughing. I surely have the clumsiest cat on the planet.

“Dog, you goof! You know you’re not good at that cat stuff,” I chide him gently, then pick him up for a cuddle. He sits upright in my arms and gently bats the sides of my face. Eyes closing, he rubs his cheek along mine, then, he lets himself go completely limp, like a big, furry dish-rag.

“Ugh, you weigh a ton when you do that,” I tell him, putting him down on the floor.

After eating a quick sandwich, I head up to my room, with Dog draped over one shoulder like a purring shawl. I change from my work attire into a long t-shirt and then, I lay down and curl up with my kitty, cozy on my bed.

Mom won’t be home for a while yet. I can’t wait! Since my dad got sick, I haven’t gone to her with hardly any of my problems because I never wanted to add to her burden. He was sick for a few years and she nursed him at home, until he died when I was nineteen.

She was still the best mom she could be and I didn’t want for anything. Besides, I had my aunts, and my friends, like Brenda, Amanda and Marie, to lean on, and their parents have been there for me too.

But it meant that Mom and me haven’t been as close as I’d like. And, probably, not as close as she’d like, either.

I’ve never said much to her about my job stress or my growing crush on Blake. Plus, there was really nothing to tell about my crush before now, except some silly fantasizing.

But now…now, it’s different. This situation is way out of my pay grade and I need her wisdom and guidance. Bad!

Maybe it’s okay to lean on her again now. I hope so, because I sure need to.

I make up my mind to tell her everything, and then I close my eyes and try to rest a bit more. Having slept so long today, and with so much to think about, I doubt I’ll be able to drop off.

But the comfort of Dog’s purring in the peace and quiet of my room soon lulls me into sleep again.

* * *

“Jen? Jennifer Jane,” my mother’s voice whispers as her fingers caress my head. I open my eyes.

“Mom?” I sit up, feeling mostly okay. Thank God! “Hi. What time is it?” I stretch and rub my eyes, then I blink at her, and smile.

My mom and me have had our ups and downs but right now I’m happy as hell to see her.

“Hi doll,” she says, taking a seat on my bed. Dog blinks at me from where he’s settled contentedly in her arms. “It’s six thirty. Why are you in bed? You get your period?”

“No. Worse than that! I had a really bad migraine. Maybe the worst ever. It’s better now, but boy am I glad you’re home.”

“Oh really?” She looks concerned, but then smiles, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. At fifty-four, she looks good for her age but sometimes, when she gets tired, it shows.

She runs her hand through her salt-and-pepper hair, smoothing it away from her face. “I’m glad the migraine’s better now, but I’m even gladder that you’re happy to see me,” she says, making a funny face.

Smiling, I lean forward and wrap my arms around her, enfolding her and Dog both. Dog lays there like a limp fur rug, loving being at the center of attention. I inhale her familiar smell as she hugs me back, feeling some of my stress fade away. “Awww. My sweet girl,” she whispers.

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” I say, leaning back. “It’s about what’s been going on at work. There’s…I have a…I mean, the problem is…my boss.”

“Oh well,” she says. “Boss problems. Yeah, I’ve had some of those myself. You haven’t said much but I thought you were looking pretty tired. Not sleeping well?”

I shake my head. “It’s been hell, frankly. Very stressful but as for my boss…this is a different kind of problem.”

She tilts her head and looks at me intently for a moment. “Ohh…kay? Hmm. How about we get something to eat while we talk? I’m starving!”

“Me too.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, we decide on one of mom’s budget “fast-food” meals. Economic but nutritious, this one consists of salmon filets, baked from frozen, with couscous and steamed Brussels sprouts. The whole thing only takes about twenty-five minutes to cook.

She slides the frozen filets onto a baking pan and begins seasoning them with parsley, minced onion, lemon juice and garlic.

“So, let’s hear about it, Jen.” she says as she works. “What’s the deal?”

Opening a package of couscous, I pour the golden, dried grains into a saucepan, cover them with water and put it on the stove to boil.

“Okay,” I sigh. After taking a moment to think, I tell her everything, starting from the beginning.

* * *

She listens while we wait for the meal, making sympathetic noises and asking a few questions.

We’re sitting down to eat as I get more or less finished explaining events. “So, now, after what happened today…I dunno, Mom. I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Well, no wonder. On top of everything, your boss wants to have an illicit affair with you.” She gives me a look. “You didn’t mention how old he is. ”

“He’s thirty-eight.” Her eyes widen. I don’t react, I just put a generous pat of butter on my steaming, fluffy couscous and mix it all in with my Brussels sprouts. “And it’s not an illicit affair, Mom. We’re attracted to each other. It’s not just him.”

“Thirty-eight? He’s too old for you and you could lose your job.”

Yeah. She’s not angry, but not exactly thrilled either. I guess I don’t blame her, but I want her on my side.

Instead of getting mad and arguing with her, I cover her hand with mine, saying, “Yes, I know. I’ve thought about that, too.”

“Really? Have you thought about being left a widow like I am?”

“Yes.” Er…no. Actually, I haven’t, but now that she mentions it, I probably should have.

She puts butter on her own food, frowning. “Well you should be thinking hard about this whole thing. I’m concerned that he’s taking advantage of your youth and inexperience, not to mention, his position over you.”

“Mom…I understand why you’d say that, but….”

She holds up a finger. “But…from what you’ve said, it does sound like he cares for you.”

“You think so?” I sit up straighter.

“Well, yes…but just a second. I don’t like that he’s ready to go back to California, even though he says he has family and roots here. This temporary-trailer living arrangement is not good. If he has a woman in California and he’s not over her, then I’m sorry dear but you might be just a distraction. Or a convenience.”

“God, I hope not.” The thought makes me feel like crying. “But his contract does explain why he’s living in a trailer. I mean, at least it’s not because he’s a crackhead or a degenerate or bad with finances or something. He’s a legitimate guy.” I splash some lemon juice on my fish. “But yeah, I don’t know if what happened between us is reason enough for him to stay here. I don’t like that uncertainty either.”

She chews a forkful of food, then swallows. “Well, a kiss isn’t exactly an engagement ring, Jen. When a man tells you that they may not stick around, or, they don’t want a relationship, or, any variation on that theme…? They mean it. You can believe them. At least, unless something changes. So you may have to decide if you want to settle for a fling.”

“No way. Not Blake. He’s different. He…he’s the kind of man I’d want to marry, not just hook up with.”

“You always were the marrying kind,” she says, smiling soft.

I shrug. “Is that so wrong?”

“No,” she says, without hesitation. “But, tell me this: Do you know him well enough to say that he’s the marrying kind?” She feeds herself another bite of tender salmon and watches me think about that.

“I guess not. But I work with him every day and I’ve seen his good and bad sides. I do trust him. He’s kind of crusty sometimes, but…he’s reliable. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

“Yes, that’s important.” She takes another bite. “Still, he might have his share of baggage, are you aware of that?”

“Umm…yeah! Everyone has baggage, Mom.”

“Older people tend to have more.” She leans forward. “You realize you’re infatuated, don’t you?”

I shrug. “I don’t care. I can’t help how I feel.”

She’s looking at me very closely. “Oh gosh, sweetie. A new love always feels wonderful but this is….” She stops, purses her lips. “I just hope he doesn’t break your heart!”

Me too! The magnitude of it hits me afresh. “Mom, what am I gonna do?” I groan, dropping my utensils on my plate. I sit back, shoulders sagging. “I…I’ve dreamt about him.”

“Oh, boy,” she says, quietly. She licks her lips, takes a sip of water and stares at me, blinking. She’s quiet for a long moment. “Well, the truth is, infatuation can lead to real love. I think that’s what infatuation is for, actually. It just… doesn’t always work out.” She gives me her ‘I know you’ look. “You care a lot less about this job than you do about Blake right now, don’t you?”

“Yep. This job is draining. Unfulfilling. It’s…a hard company to work for, too. They’re horribly disorganized, there are so many problems. The management sucks.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. “You’re describing every job out there. You can always find another job. Maybe not as well-paying, though.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind? Why would I mind?” she says, quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I’m afraid you’ll be mad at me if I give up money for love. Or something.”

“Of course not. It’s your life. Anyhow. You don’t have to decide right now. You’re still on probation at Delcroft. Things could improve, if you give it a chance. And you should always find another job before you leave the one you have, no matter what.”

“Right, I know. I haven’t decided if I’m leaving for sure anyway.”

She sighs again. “Alright. I guess I’ve expressed my motherly concerns. And God knows we’ve talked about, y’know, the birds and the bees often enough.” She raises her eyebrows. “If you’re determined to date a much older man…a man who likes to lead, to be in control, then maybe we should have a talk of a different kind.”