Mom started to reach a hand across the table, but then stopped herself.
“I just want you to be good to my daughter,” she said. “There’s only one of her.”
“We have to get going,” I announced.
Mom and Davis continued their staring contest, but Mom finally said, “Back by eleven,”
and I grabbed Davis by the forearm and pulled him out the front door, shooting Mom a look as I went.
— “Are you okay?” I asked as soon as we were safely inside his Escalade. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
“She’s just really overprotective.” “I get it,” he said. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” “Then what are you?” “It’s complicated.” “I’ve got time,” I told him.
“She’s wrong that I can have anything I want whenever I want it.” “What do you want that you don’t have?” I asked.
“A mother, for starters.” He put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.
I wasn’t sure what to say, so eventually I just said, “Sorry.”
“You know that part of Yeats’s ‘The Second Coming’ where it’s, like,
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