Chapter 2 - Coffee, and a Boy Who Loved Art Class
A few weeks later I brought them to meet her anyway. Neutral ground — Bluebird Coffee, a little place two blocks from my apartment. Claire ran ten minutes late, and I watched my mother's jaw tighten with every one of those minutes.
Claire hadn't had a choice. Micah's sitter had bailed at the last second, so she'd brought him along.
They came through the door flustered. Claire's hair was falling out of its bun, she was in jeans and a soft blue blouse with one side of the collar flipped up, and Micah was gripping her hand and staring straight at the pastry case.
"This is Claire," I said, standing. "And this is Micah."
My mother rose, put out her hand, and gave Claire a smile with nothing behind it.
"You look exhausted, Claire."
"I really am," Claire said, laughing a little. "It's been that kind of week."
My mother asked Micah exactly one question. "And what's your favorite subject at school?"
"Art," he said.
She gave a small eye-roll and didn't speak to him again. When the check came, she put down cash for her own coffee and nothing else.
In the car afterward, Claire looked over at me at a red light.
"She doesn't like me, Nathan."
She didn't say it angry. Just honest.
"She doesn't know you yet."
May you like
"Maybe. But she's already decided she doesn't want to."
I didn't have an answer for that, because she was right.
