MACK
Jell-O salad is fuckinghard to prepare. So hard that I had to call my mom to come over.
“You took the day off to make this?” Mom pokes at the finally completed Jell-O salad. With her help, the final product looks exactly like the picture.
“She was desperate for it last night and started crying when we read the instructions, and it said you had to let the whole thing sit for three hours.” Then we had the best night of my life. Hers, too, I hope, although her first thought in the morning was about the damned Jell-O salad. I used my tongue to successfully distract her and had a brief mad thought that she could transfer her craving for a particular food to me.
After she left for work, I slapped myself in the head and decided to win her over the right way—and went to the store.
“Upset stomach and unusual food cravings,” Mom murmurs. She taps her chin in thought.
Alarmed, I bark, “Are those the symptoms of some kind of cancer?”
She gives me an odd look before shaking her head. “No. Nothing to be too concerned about.” She slides the Jell-O salad into the refrigerator. When she returns to the table, she covers one of my hands with hers. “Now, son, I know you love this girl. What are you going to do about it?”
“If you know I love her, why are you setting me up on blind dates?”
“Because I thought it would spur you into action, and it did.” Her smile looks smug as if she’s got some secret knowledge.
“How do you know?” I eye her suspiciously. It’s not like she’s been in the bedroom with Sunny and me.
She pats my hand. “Motherly intuition. But you didn’t answer my question. You’ve been living with Sunny for years as friends. I accepted that you were friends initially, but your feelings have grown. If you don’t take the next step, your father and I will be sorely disappointed.”
“Of course, I’m going to marry her,” I reply tersely. What did she take me for?
“Good.” She beams. “I predict that your Jell-O and your proposal will take away any of the illness that Sunny’s been suffering. It’s time for my bridge club.” She waggles her fingers at me and leaves.
I don’t have time to decipher her meaning because Sunny comes in moments later.
“Did I miss your mom?” She pushes out her lower lip in a pout. “Why didn’t you ask her to stay for dinner?”
“She has bridge.”
I help Sunny off with her coat.
“Why are you home?” She checks her watch. “Did you stay home today?” She slaps a hand on my forehead. “Are you sick? You never stay home.”
I pull her hand to my mouth. “No. I’m not sick. I made you something.” I lead her over to the kitchen table and push her into a seat. “Don’t go all crazy with the compliments. My ego is already big enough.”
“That’s what she said,” she deadpans.
I laugh and slide the Jell-O dessert in front of her. “Ta da.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not.”
“Did you make this? Yourself? Wait. Is that why your mom was here?”
“Sunshine, I’m wounded. You don’t think I could make a dish like this?”
“No. No. I think you could, but how many empty Jell-O boxes will I find if I look in the trash?”
“None.” I cleaned up while the Jell-O was forming in the fridge.
“Ah.” She nods knowingly. “Got rid of the evidence.”
“I’ll never tell.” I hand her a fork. “Bon apple teeth.”
She giggles. “It sounds so funny when you say it like that.”
“French feels too stuffy for this special dish. What do you think?” I was lying when I said I didn’t want the praise. I definitely want it.
“I’m flabbergasted. It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
It does look nice, I admit. It’s green on the bottom with a white layer of mayonnaise and topped with the orange Jell-O and shredded carrots. I am still skeptical about the taste. Sunny is too. She jabs at the dish and then wrinkles her nose before slowly lifting a small forkful to her lips. The morsel disappears into her mouth. As I watch, her face changes from cautious to surprised and then to delight.
“Oh my God, this is good.” She scoops up a much larger bite and holds it to my mouth. “Taste it.”
I do as ordered and swallow it whole, like a shot, barely registering any flavor.
“Good, isn’t it?”
I nod even though if I never have another bite of this thing, I’ll be fine. Sunny, on the other hand, is devouring the dish.
“I was thinking about this all day and wondered when I would have time to make it,” she tells me between bites. “And I had convinced myself I would hate it because these don’t seem like flavors that go together, but they are, aren’t they?”
“You love it then?” I vow to make this every day.
“I do. I love it and you.”
I jerk back. Her hand flies to her mouth. She lets out an unsteady laugh. “I mean, I don’t love you, love you. I love you like a friend.” She reaches out and gives me a light, awkward pat on the shoulder like my dick hasn’t been in her cunt and my mouth hasn’t sucked all the juice out of her pussy.
A friend? Oh hell, no. I am not in the same category as Brad.
“We’re getting married,” I announce.
Her fork falls to the table. “What did you just say?”
“We’re getting married. That’s why my mom was here. We’re planning the wedding. It will be in a month. Get ready.” With that, I stomp out of the kitchen. Friends, my ass.