“Going somewhere after class?” she asks, suspicious, wheels turning.
I shrug as I stop by the passenger side of our grey Jeep, waiting for the doors to unlock before getting inside. Dad has an old muscle car similar to Vicente’s, a black ’73 Challenger, but it’s in our tiny garage and he never takes it out.
“Why so secretive?” she asks as she starts the engine, not letting it go.
I give her a look that says, Are you kidding me? You should talk.
“What?” She wiggles her fingers around me. “You’ve got this mysterious aura about you. I’m just curious. It’s a good thing.”
“That you’re curious?”
“That you’ve got something going on.”
“I never said I have anything going on.”
I’m not even sure why I’m keeping Vicente from her. I mean, he did say he wanted to meet my parents, which is both crazy and promising all at once. I guess I’m afraid that since I just met him and we haven’t really been on a date, I don’t want to jinx anything. I feel like I’m already doing that with my shaved legs and matching bra and panty set.
My mom doesn’t say anything else. She looks a little crestfallen as she drives down the hill, enough that it makes me feel bad. It makes me shove my animosity over my grandfather aside for now and try and reach out.
“I met a guy,” I tell her, resisting the temptation to pick at the edges of my nail polish.
“Oh?” She sounds surprised. I can’t blame her. I think at one point she assumed Ginny and I were dating, and it probably made her happy.
“Yeah. As in literally just met him. So don’t worry, I haven’t been keeping you in the dark.”
“That explains why you’re looking hot,” she says, glancing at me with a small smile.
“Mom.”
“So when did you meet him? What does he do?”
“I met him on Monday. He’s an aspiring photographer and he was trying to get Anderson to accept him into the school.”
“Oh, really?” Now she sounds impressed. I usually dated musicians. This would be the first time for a photographer.
And you’re not dating, I remind myself.
“And did he get into the school?” she asks.
“I don’t think so. He was willing to pay his way in, but Anderson wasn’t having it. But I said I would teach him what I know.”
Now my mom is grinning at me. I wish she would do it more often since it makes her look a decade younger. “That’s my daughter. Hey, maybe you’ll find that teaching is your calling.”
“Maybe.”
“So what’s his name? How old is he?”
“His name is Vicente. I’m not sure how old he is, maybe mid-twenties?”
“Vicente,” she muses, then shrugs a shoulder. “Nice name. Very poetic.”
“He’s Mexican. Born in the U.S., so I guess he’s a dual citizen, but he spent most of his life in Mexico.”
Her posture stiffens at that. Her jawline twitches. “Do you know where in Mexico he was raised?”
“No idea. I know his dad is like a farmer. Or something to do with selling avocados.”
She nods at that, seeming to relax. I guess she’s back to acting odd again. “And he’s here for the school or…?”
“I don’t know. He said he came here to discover his roots, where he was born, and that it’s the perfect city for photography.”
“That’s very true. Well, I’m glad you’ve met a nice guy.” She gives me a sideways glance. “He is a nice guy, right?”
“Yes,” I say, exasperated. “Very nice. Very…smooth. Says all the right things.”
She cocks a brow. “Oh yeah? You better watch out for guys like that.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” I look at her. “Is that how Dad won you over? Smooth lines?”
She laughs, loud. “Oh Jesus. Violet. You’ve met your father, haven’t you?”
I can’t help but laugh too. “I guess since you met him in high school, he probably wasn’t the coolest.” I’d seen photos of my parents back then. Dad looked like a Marilyn Manson wannabe with nerd glasses to boot.
“Hey, your father would surprise you in more ways than one,” she says.
The image of the newspaper clipping pops into my head. “I have no doubt about that,” I tell her.
“Anyway, I just want you to be careful with this guy. That’s all.”
“Why? You’re always badgering me to go meet someone.”
“First of all, I don’t badger you. Second of all…I know you can take care of yourself. That’s why we rarely worry about you in these kind of situations. It’s just…trust me, sometimes the guys who have all the right things to say have the right things to say for a reason.”
“I’m pretty intuitive. I’ll back out if things get weird.”
She nods a few times, chewing on her lip. “I know you are. And I’m glad. But…trust me. All the intuition and intentions in the world can go out the window when you sleep with someone. Especially if you’re stupid enough to fall in love.”
“Mom…”
“Just try and keep your mind intact, that’s all. Don’t let a few orgasms shield you from the truth about someone.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Who said I was going to sleep with him?”