Just Like the Ocean

“Oh my God!” Whitney’s mind raced through all the things that were said as she peeked through the blinds at the two figures approaching her front door. One was, of course, her boyfriend for the past six months. She loathed the term “boyfriend.” It made her think of all the guys she used to hang out with at the YMCA when she was in middle school. None of them were looking to be anything more than a buddy to her awkward, skinny, too-tall, freckled self.

None of that mattered now. She had Braxton, even if he was “just a boyfriend.”

Six months of dating was a long time for her and it had sped by in a second. Brax had shown her how to enjoy a few of the finer things life had to offer, like oysters. Whitney had never been brave enough to eat an oyster before she met him.

“What do they taste like because, frankly, they look like huge boogers!” Whitney was skeptical about putting someone’s dislodged nasal rejects into her mouth.

Braxton smiled and, honestly, that was all it took to convince her.

“First, take your tiny oyster fork and scoot that sea booger around in the shell to make sure it is good and loose. If you so desire,” he accentuated “desire” with a wicked, sexy wink, “garnish it with a little horse radish and a dash of tabasco. Next, either let it slide down your throat or, if you feel daring, take a nibble or two. I like to chew mine just enough to feel the texture. I mean, it’s your sea booger so you make the call.”

She was watching his eyes watching her and forgot all about the oysters for a minute. “Oh…yeah. You never answered my question. The oysters. What do they TASTE like? Prepare me a bit here.”

He stared off the dining dock into Cape Cod Bay, the lighthouse visible in the distance and the sea wind tousling his messy, dark hair. He was there, but not there at all. It was a magical moment frozen in her memories. “They taste like the ocean.” He stopped. Then he leaned over and tenderly grasped a handful of her hair, brought it to his nose, and inhaled a deep breath. He stared into her eyes and whispered, “But you smell like the ocean. The best smell in the world.”

Now here she was scrambling to cook dinner for this man who stole her heart and make a good first impression on his mother, Patricia.

Patricia Lucille Connings.

The hairs on the back of Whitney’s neck were rising in anticipation of this conversation that was going to occur. She had never met his mother. At least, that’s what she could have said two days ago. Now she knew exactly who this woman was and what she could be.

She usually shopped at Shaw’s for all her grocery needs, but yesterday she decided to head into Dennis’s Public Market because of all the great reviews. She wanted a variety for the meat selection and a particular wine, and Dennis’s had both. There was no issue until she ventured into the wine section.

She needed a couple bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau by Pardon and Fils. Whitney thought of wine, especially red wine, the same way she had initially thought of oysters: she did not want to put either one in her mouth. However, according to Brax, his mom had visited France 20 years ago when his dad was still alive and this wine made her feel nostalgic for all the right reasons even if she indulged too much. Whitney didn’t know or care. She just wanted to make a good impression.

She turned the corner and had her eyes on the prize when a disheveled woman in a house coat that looked more like a battled bath robe was frantically grabbing all the bottles off the shelf.

“Woah! Hold up, woman! I need two of those!” Whitney didn’t mean to sound rude, but it probably came across that way since she made this trip to this store to buy that wine. Heck, they probably had it at a local liquor store, but her Shaw’s didn’t have it and she hated to make multiple stops when a plan was already in place.

The woman glared at her. “I guess you were too late, honey. Looks like they sold out.” She turned her cart to go and Whitney could feel her face turning red. She never could hide her emotions.

“Listen, old woman. I’m not your honey and after your first bottle, you won’t even taste the next four!”

The woman abruptly halted. Her shoulders rose and her neck stiffened. She slowly turned around and asked, “What the hell did you just say you repugnant, little rat?”

Whitney stepped back. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. A nearby shopper picked up their phone as if to record the episode. “Listen. I just want two bottles. It’s important. I’ll even buy you two different bottles of wine. Anything you want.”

The woman bristled. “I. Don’t. Want. Another. Wine! Mind your own business. I got here first and you got here after. These are mine!” It appeared as if the woman had already been drinking today. It was barely noon.

Whitney noted two more shoppers getting their phones ready for action. She had a great job and her future was heading in the right direction. She desperately wanted to engage in a war of words with this wicked wench, but she reluctantly relented. “Whatever. Enjoy your intoxication...honey.”

She grabbed a couple other bottles that sounded similar even though she had no idea at all about wine or grapes or anything related to France besides Napoleon Bonaparte. The bath robe woman stomped away to the register.

Whitney happened to be behind this disgrace of a person when the shrew’s card was declined. She smirked to herself. “What do you mean ‘declined?’ I still got 200 bucks left in that account!” The woman caught sight of Whitney. “What the hell are you looking at, you ginger jerk?”

Whitney should have stayed silent, but she was already aggravated. “I’m looking at a pitiful woman who needs to get a new bath robe and call AA. I’ll take two of those bottles, sweetie.” The clerk slid two of the bottles towards her as the woman screamed a distinct profanity about Whitney’s mother and called the clerk another rotten name not worth repeating. Whitney didn’t care. She got what she came for.

And now this mystery woman was returning to fulfill her evil plot as her new mother-friend-in-law. Was this karma or some other cruel universe repayment process in action?

Braxton did not let himself in as he normally did. He knocked. He probably didn’t want Cruella to know he had a key. Whitney paced back and forth for a few minutes. What was she going to say? How should she act? Did Braxton hear about the incident from his mom? Whitney had joked about it with him and made the woman sound like a hideous beast. His mother! He knocked again, but louder as if she couldn’t hear the first time. She tip-toed into the bathroom near the front door and flushed the toilet. “Coming!”

“Breathe in, breathe out. Like yoga only with a rabid Doberman. It’s just your imaginary future that is ruined. No big deal.” She sighed. Braxton was going to be a big loss. She didn’t want to do this, but her hand was already turning the doorknob letting them in.

“Brax! Hey. It’s so good to see you. And this must be your mom! I have been so excited to finally meet you.” Whitney had plastered on a smile so big that her face muscles were beginning to protest by twitching with the effort.

Braxton looked concerned but ushered his mother in through the door. “Whitney, this is my mom, Patricia. Mom, this is my girlfriend, Whitney.”

Patricia stiffly stood to the side extending a hand. Whitney cautiously shook it. “Braxton has told me a lot about you. I’m sure he hasn’t told you much about me. Do you have any wine before dinner? I love a good French wine. It seems the local store sold out of my favorite one.” Her brow furrowed down and she grinned in a menacing way that told Whitney everything she needed to know. It was her game now.

It seemed as if a light went on in Braxton’s head that made the pieces fall into place. He knew. “Hey, Mom, we got some of that fancy stuff you like. The kind I always see you drink at the house. You know, the boojoolay?”

His mom laughed and let him take her into the dining room. They popped the cork and poured three glasses even though Patricia was the only one who appreciated the vile substance. Whitney threw back her glass and quickly gulped it all down before she vanished into the kitchen to finish prepping dinner.

Patricia walked in.

“You know, honey, I call everyone honey. I thought I should tell you that.” She leaned against the counter by the stove peering into the dishes to see what would be served.

Whitney took in a deep breath and turned to her. “Okay. I’m sorry. I had a bad moment and I really didn’t mean...”

Patricia held her hand up to make her stop talking. “No. Don’t say anymore. Do you know what the date was yesterday?”

Whitney closed her eyes. She was horrible at this. “Ummm….it was September 1^st.”

Patricia looked up at the ceiling as if the fan would blow away the emotions creeping into her face. “Yesterday was our anniversary. Mine and Paul’s. Pat and Paul is what everyone called us. It would have been 40 years, but he didn’t make it. He left me behind.”

From the little bit Whitney had heard from Braxton, his dad and mom had been in an accident and his dad didn’t make it. She was driving. That’s all Whitney knew.

“Do you know Braxton’s sister still won’t talk to me? Her name is Mallory. It was my mother’s name, Mallory. Anyway, I’m sorry. Yes, I have a problem, but that problem is not my son loving you. That’s all that matters. Forgiven?” Patricia held out her hand, gently this time. Whitney took it. Patricia pulled her into a big hug. She whispered in her ear, “Honey, has anyone ever told you that you smell just like the ocean?”

Whitney smiled. Yes, someone had.