Ma
"I'M NOT EATING FUCKING quinoa for breakfast, however you say it. And I'm not going to ride in your hippie-mobile, whatever shit that is. Men drive. Men like me drive trucks. We don't eat kale and we don't ride shotgun in fucking sissy-ass cars while some woman drives us around—"
So Will's sweetness was good while it lasted. But apparently he had a breaking point, and that point was easy to get to. Actually, we got to it at breakfast, after I made him oatmeal with craisins, walnuts, and brown sugar, which he said was good but needed butter that he added. But then I mentioned that I liked quinoa for breakfast and I knew a vegan restaurant to take him to and he lost it. If we weren't in each other's pants, it seemed that we were destined for fighting about stupid shit, but the problem was that to both of us the stupid shit was a symbol for something greater. Something we couldn’t reconcile. Something that mattered deep down underneath.
Quinoa was a symbol of my desire to help the earth. It was also a symbol of his distrust and dislike of anything politically correct.
He looked at me with disgust, and started that quinoa/kale/car/female driving diatribe, but I wasn't going to let him finish it.
"First, some woman? That's all I am? Then how can you stand to be around me?" I snapped. "You just want to fuck me. I'm an easy cunt. That's it."
"No, I don't 'just want to fuck' you—" he started, but I interrupted him.
"Why did you even start this, Will, if you can't stand me? I should just go. I'm fucking out of here."
I went to leave the kitchen and he got in front of me and stopped.
"I like you, Marie. I just don't like everything you like—" he said in a quiet and dangerous tone, but I interrupted him, again.
"Fuck you, you're a motherfucker," and I pushed him to the side. "If you don't agree with me, fine, don't, but you don't have to be an ass about it."
"I told you, I know I'm an asshole. That's just the way I'm made. But I think there's something here and if we can get past these arguments, I'd like to know—" but I interrupted him, again.
"We're not going to be able to get past these arguments because this shit? It's in our DNA. I believe what I believe and you believe what you believe and neither one of us is going to change. We both think we’re right and we can't stand what the other one believes in. And you think differently than me in every possible way you can."
He looked annoyed. "Not true."
I waved a finger in his face. "And you're rude and sexist."
He sighed, exasperated. "Yes, I can be rude but I'm not sexist."
"Then what was that shit that just came out of your mouth?" I said, exasperated.
Looking at me straight in the eyes, he said firmly, "The truth."
Oh he was so difficult!
"Fuck no, that's not the truth."
We looked at each other, both seething, both breathing hard. He spoke first, closing a gap between us.
"I am fucking attracted to you, Marie, and it's not just your incredible body, although that's a big part of it. I like that you don't back down on me. I like that you push back. I like that you care about everything. I like knowing what you think. You don’t hide it from me and I like that. I just think some of it is extreme bullshit and I'm not going to do it. But you, I want to be with you."
Yeah, right. I was an easy target. "No you don't. You just want to stick your cock in me."
He reached for me and I pulled back, wanting to withdraw. He kept going.
"Marie, you're not listening to me. I want to date you," he growled.
He wants to date me? Could I date Will for real? He made me pause for a moment, but then, I remembered who we were and I put my hand on my hip.
"Yeah, but can that go anywhere? What would it be like to be seen in public with me? When I have rainbow hair and my eyebrow ring and I'm wearing hemp clothes and I'm drinking green juice. You'd be the laughingstock of your friends and family for hanging out with me. You'd be ashamed."
"Don't tell me how I'd think—" he started, running a hand through his hair, but I interrupted, again.
"I've lived on your property for more than a week and I haven't met your parents, who I know live here too. That shows you're ashamed of me. You don't want them to know that a freak like me is living here, whether or not I'm dating you."
"You have that entirely wrong," he snarled.
"Oh no? Then why haven't I met them? I’ve met everyone else. I’ve even met the ranch foreman."
Will stared at me for a moment, eyes flaring, and said, "Come on then. You're meeting my ma and dad."
I looked down. I was in my yoga pants and hoodie from the night before. "Will, I'm not all dressed up—"
"You don't have to be. You look beautiful just the way you are. I’m not ashamed of hanging out with you. I’ll prove it. Come. Now." And he fucking picked me up under my knees and shoulders, and carried me out of the house, Trixie nipping at his heels.
"Put me the fuck down, right now," I shrieked as I struggled.
"Only if you come with me," he said, not exerting himself at all as he walked.
"Fine," I said, with as much contempt as I could put into the one syllable, and he put me down.
He took my hand and physically pulled me across the courtyard, past several buildings, almost running, until we got to a newer ranch house off to the side. It had a grass front with a picket fence, and a few vintage farm implements and wooden wagon wheels as decorations. The one-story house had a slight ramp to the front door.
He opened the screen and knocked once, walking in. "Ma?" he called.
An elegant, low female voice with a Spanish accent called out musically, "William, come in. I'm in the living room."
We walked into the house, which was newish and clean. It was decorated in country, although not overdone, capital-letter, Country. The room had new, comfortable furniture, fresh flowers in chipped enamel vases, and impressionist paintings of California on the walls. We walked through the front room and the kitchen to another room where I could hear Fox News on the television.
Oh, God, Fox News. Here we go.
But then I walked into a room and saw a beautiful dark haired, dark eyed woman in a wheelchair. She was breathtaking, with clear caramel skin, high cheek bones, and lush lips. She was clearly Will's mom.
His mom spoke Spanish?
And was a double-amputee.
Fuck. Things were starting to come together. Janine had mentioned that his mom had been in a car accident and her recovery was the beginning of the Headlands Program. I was willing to bet that this accident was the reason, likely, why Will was an only child.
Fuck, shit, damn.
He was an asshole, but so was I.
"Ma, this is Marie Diaz-Austin. She's running the enrichment programs for Headlands, and she's also going to be my girlfriend."
Excuse me?
I'd have to talk to him about this, so I glared at him, then rearranged my face into a smile and shook her slim, cool hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"Marie, the pleasure is all mine. My name is Margarita, but you can call me Margaret. Are you enjoying the ranch?"
And with that, we launched into a discussion about the ranch and how much I loved it, studiously avoiding Will's presumptuous pronouncement about the future of our relationship, such that it was. After a little while, a tall, handsome older man, wearing a plaid shirt and Wranglers, sauntered in from the back of the house, shook my hand, and sat down by his wife, holding her hand. He had dark eyes and light brown hair and introduced himself as Bill Thrash.
I didn't know how I got myself into this. I went from pissing Will off, to being attracted to him, to yelling at him, to fucking him, to being sweet with him, to fighting with him, to meeting his parents. This was so confusing.
But damn, if Fox News wasn’t on, it would've been perfect.