Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [59]
“What?” his mom said. “Don’t you think it’s sort of nice that I’ve found someone?”
Nick peeled the potato very slowly. Peels fell on the tabletop like dead skin. Underneath, the potato was wet and slippery and rank. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, and kept on peeling.
When Morty and Dee Dee returned from the parade, Morty came up behind Nick’s mom at the sink and put his arms around her waist. “You would have loved the new Goofy float,” he told her. “It has great karma.” He lifted up her hair and kissed the back of her neck. As if he knew anything about karma.
At dinner Nick learned that Morty had yearned for his mother ever since he’d laid eyes on her at U Maryland, their alma mater. “Corinne used to wear flowers in her hair every day. Drove me wild,” he told Nick. “But she always had a boyfriend. I never even came close. Plus we had different lifestyles. Sure, I smoked dope, but your mother. Whoa.”
Nick wondered if he should get out the gigantic red bong his mom kept stashed in her closet. He could have really done with a great big bong hit just then.
“We ran into each other about six years ago in a taxi of all places,” Nick’s mother said. “I was getting in and he was getting out. I didn’t remember him, but Morty remembered me.” She smiled at Morty, who responded by putting his hand over his heart. “It was nice.”
“Your mother invited me back here for some wine. You were at a sleepover,” he told Nick. “Of course within five minutes she’s offering me—” He glanced at Dee Dee. She was busy making a hole in her mashed potatoes for gravy. Morty pinched his thumb and forefinger together and put them up to his lips.
“Morty!” Nick’s mother exclaimed.
Nick pushed the tofu around on his plate. There was an unspoken rule between him and his mom that they did not talk about pot, they just smoked it, separately. He was pretty sure she knew he stole from her stash whenever he was home, but she didn’t say anything about it, and he never mentioned it when the apartment reeked of the stuff. Now the secret was out, even though it wasn’t a secret.
“Then one thing led to another and well—” Morty cleared his throat. “Your mom was pregnant with your sister. I wasn’t in any sort of shape to be a dad just then. I’d already tried it and screwed it up. And your mom is such a great mom. I knew she could handle it.”
“After you left for college and Dee Dee started kindergarten, I got kind of lonely.” Nick’s mom picked up the story. “I called Morty and he came by and cooked us dinner.” She reached across the table and grasped Morty’s hand. “And I just fell in love with him. I couldn’t let him leave. And Dee Dee adores him, don’t you, Dee Dee?”
Dee Dee picked up her caveman-sized drumstick and gnawed on it. “He’s pretty cool,” she said. Morty poked her in the ribs and she giggled. “Okay, okay. He’s the best!”
Morty laughed. “And now of course I’m, you know—” He put his thumb and forefinger up to his lips again. “Every day.” He rubbed his relatively flat stomach. “As long as I keep jogging and keep away from the donuts.” He winked at Nick.
“Excuse me.” Nick stood up and made a beeline for his mom’s bedroom. Her closet had been rearranged to accommodate Morty’s clothes. He retrieved the giant red bong, and an enormous Ziploc bag full of pot from her sock drawer, and took them to his room, where he stuffed them into his duffel bag. Back in high school he’d pinch only negligible amounts, enough for maybe two or three joints. But what could she do if he took her whole stash? He proceeded to troll his room for any books or personal belongings he’d be sorry to leave behind, sneezing over and over as he pillaged the dusty shelves. His MAD magazine collection went in the bag. The Three Pillars of Zen stayed on the shelf. His signed and framed Simon and Garfunkel poster was too big. He’d have to send for it later. Because after this weekend, he wasn’t coming back.
“Thanks for cooking,” he told his mom when he returned to the table. He sneezed again,