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Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

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I nodded. “Okay. Are you embarrassed by me?”

I asked it as a joke, but Chloe widened her eyes and shook her head vehemently. “No!” she said. “Oh my God, please don’t think that. It’s just ... my parents have been giving me a hard enough time about art school as it is, and I’m just not sure how they’re going to react to me seeing someone. I don’t want to give them any more reasons to give me shit.”

“Fair enough,” I said. I decided not to mention that it would actually save me from getting shit from my own family and friends as well.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, though, then the door opened and my mother and Wade walk in. I looked down at the table, hoping we were sitting far away enough from the entrance that they might not notice me, but no such luck. My mother saw us and made a beeline for the table. Wade looked far less enthused.

“Well, would you look at that!” my mother said, loud enough for most of the people in the restaurant to stop what they were doing and look over, as though they might actually see something worthwhile.

“Oh, hey,” I said.

Chloe looked at my mother and then at Wade, who had slowly made his way over. He grunted at me in way of greeting. Chloe had a smile on her face, waiting for the introduction.

“Chloe, this is my mother, Janice,” I said. “Janice, this is Chloe.”

“May we sit? So nice to meet you, Chloe. Graham hardly ever introduces us to his friends.” Chloe had slid over in the booth and my mother sat down beside her, leaving me with the choice of sliding over for Wade, and him with the option of actually sitting down next to me. We both thought better of it though, and neither of us budged. “Now, Chloe,” my mom was saying, “I don’t think I’ve heard anything about you. Tell me everything!”

“Well,” Chloe said, looking only the slightest bit uncomfortable, “there’s not a ton to tell.”

“Oh, stop being modest. I can tell, a girl like you, you’ve probably had quite the life now, haven’t you? What do you do? Do you work?”

“I’m in school.”

“School! Now that’s wonderful. What are you going to school for?”

“I’m going to art school.”

My mother could be hard to read sometimes; now was one of them. Sure, her tone sounded friendly, and luckily she hadn’t gotten started on her own personal career choices—yet—but I couldn’t be completely certain that this line of questioning was benign.

“Jan,” Wade said with a cough. “Why don’t we go get a seat.”

For once, I was actually glad for Wade’s presence, though my mother showed no signs of actually listening to his suggestion.

Denise appeared then with our food. Wade looked at the plate longingly.

“Denise,” my mother said. “I didn’t realize you still worked here.”

Denise gave her a tight smile. “Still here, Janice,” she said. “I stopped working on Mondays.”

My mother nodded. “Ah,” she said. “Well, nice to see you.” Denise nodded and hurried away. “I come in here every Monday,” my mother said to us. “And I’d always sit in Denise’s section. I wondered what had happened to her. She used to be friendly with that girl who dated the boy you were in a band with, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” I said, knowing full well that my mother knew exactly who she was talking about. I looked over her shoulder, across the restaurant. “Oh, hey look, there’s a free table over there, and I think it’s got your name on it.”

Wade brightened. “Great,” he said. “Come on, Janice, let’s go.”

But my mother completely ignored him. “Now tell me,” she said. “Are you two ... an item?” She giggled conspiratorially, as though she and Chloe had been friends for years, not people who had just met each other.

“We’re not,” I said quickly.

“You know, it’s so funny, because I had just stopped by Graham’s work the other day to tell him that I was supportive of his decision to not—”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” I said loudly, shooting my mother a look.

“Yeah, come on, Janice,” Wade said. “I’m starving. Let’s give these two their space.”

For a second, my mother looked like she was going to flat out refuse, or ask if they could join us. But maybe it was something on Wade’s face, or perhaps my own, that finally convinced her to remove herself from the booth.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you,” she said, holding her hand out.



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