Cynthia was driving Greg’s Bonneville, following her mother, who was following Greg in the U-Haul. They had loaded the truck with boxes and all the furniture Beverly wanted in her bedroom. They also took her dining table and chairs because they were much nicer than Cynthia’s. Two garage sales, one at each house, would allow them to get rid of the excess furniture.
Cynthia loved Greg’s car—mostly because it made her feel close to him. She was sitting where he sat, her hands holding the steering wheel he held with his hands. Hands that sometimes, during a long kiss, worked their way down her back to embrace her butt. How wonderful it would be to wake up next to him every day, and go to bed with him every night.
Her first husband had been abusive. But why hadn’t she seen it coming? Shouldn’t she have been able to recognize an abuser when she met him? She had been attracted to his big, lean body. The muscles were definitely a turn-on. Surely she had sensed danger just beneath the surface. He had gone into a rage once when they were dating. But even after he hit her that night, she went on with the wedding plans anyway. How foolish. Young women can be so naïve, she thought. We think we can fix whatever’s wrong with a guy.
But she was a little older now, and a lot wiser. With Greg, there was very little that needed fixing up. She would help him get in better physical shape. But even that was more about his health than his looks. And she knew that in the worst case scenario, she could live with him not being in optimal shape. Because Cynthia knew Greg’s feelings were sincere and deep. He truly cared about her in every way. He wasn’t just some guy trying to get into her panties. But he did want in—oh, did he ever. But not until marriage.
Cynthia wondered if Greg was going to pop the question soon. It seemed like he had nearly done it a couple of times already. But with her mother moving in, Greg might have put his wedding ideas on the back burner. She hoped not. They could make it work. Or, they might have to get another house…
*
“This is a lovely restaurant, Lilman,” said Mallie Mae.
“Mother, you know I hate that name. Please call me ‘Elmo.’”
“Lilman was my grandfather’s name,” said Mallie Mae to Macy.
Macy nodded as though this was news to her.
“Okay, I’ll try—if you’ll start calling me ‘Mom.’”
Elmo couldn’t remember when their relationship had ever been ‘natural.’ He must have been close to her as a child. But if so, those childhood memories were long forgotten. “Okay …Mom. And I’m glad you like the restaurant.”
Elmo had been surprised at how normal his mother had been all day. If she was faking Alzheimer’s disease, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“Very fancy,” said Macy, feeling a bit underdressed in the skirt and blouse she had worn all day at the zoo.
“Very expensive,” said Mallie Mae, perusing the menu.
“I like the live band,” said Macy.
“Yeah, they’re playing music from the big band era,” said Elmo.
Mallie Mae pretended to be reading her menu while she listened carefully to the conversation between Macy and Elmo. She had been observing them all day. They had clowned around a lot, and at one point, were throwing food at the monkeys—until a zookeeper made them stop. She had never seen Elmo act so childishly. It was refreshing.
After several hours of watching them interact, she had a revelation—Macy was the perfect match for Elmo. She had proved to be loyal and trustworthy. And Elmo was obviously crazy about her, although he didn’t seem to know it.
“I love this song,” said Macy. “Do you know the name of it?”
“Sure. I’m Getting Sentimental Over You. It was Tommy Dorsey’s theme song.”
Oh children, Mallie Mae thought—if you only knew how much the words of that song apply to you. Lilman had no business marrying Carsie. His eyes sparkled when he looked at Macy.
Once they had ordered, Mallie Mae said. “Well, Lilman? I mean, Elmo. Aren’t you going to ask this beautiful young lady to dance with you?”
Macy was caught off guard by Mallie Mae’s suggestion, and looked a little embarrassed.
“Well, sure. Macy?” He stood and extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”
Macy looked at Mallie Mae.
“Go on, Honey,” said Mallie Mae. “I’ll be fine.”
Macy stood and took Elmo’s hand, and they walked to the dance floor. But her elation turned to disappointment when the song ended before they could even start dancing. “It’s over.”
She turned to walk back to the table, but Elmo was still holding her hand. And he was not moving. She looked back at him.
“Don’t give up so easily,” said Elmo, in a sweet, playful voice.
The orchestra started playing another tune.
“There we go,” said Elmo.
Macy smiled at him. It was an uncensored smile, and she wondered if she had just given away the long-held secret of her heart.
And in that moment, Elmo finally realized her deepest feelings for him. He wondered how he had missed it all those years. He had always repressed his desire for her. After all, at 37, she was 19 years younger than Elmo. He was just too old for her. But that reasoning no longer rang true, since he was now engaged to a 30-year-old.
“What’s the name of this song?” she said.
“I’m in the Mood for Love,” he said, gazing into her eyes as though he had never seen them before.
Macy was so afraid she would wake up. What if it was just another dream? “I’m in the mood for love too,” she said.
Elmo smiled as he took her in his arms and began to dance with her. “It’s the name of the song.”
“Huh?” she felt slightly dizzy.
He stopped dancing, leaned over and spoke softly into her ear. “I’m in the Mood for Love is the name of the song.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. The electricity he felt between his lips and Macy’s warm skin was so magnificent he was caught by surprise, then by guilt. He had a fiancée.
Macy’s entire body surged with emotion, and she nearly fainted.
Mallie Mae delighted in watching them on the dance floor. When the song was over, they returned to the table, talking and grinning.
“Y’all make a handsome couple,” said Mallie Mae, beaming at them.
Macy and Elmo were amazed by Mallie Mae’s stamp of approval. They were still smiling at each other when Elmo’s cell phone rang.
“Just ignore it,” said Mallie Mae.
Elmo glanced at the phone display and said, “It’s Carsie.”
Mallie Mae was perturbed by Carsie’s timing. Things had been going so well.
“Hi, Carsie,” said Elmo. “…No, we’re about to eat dinner. Then we’ll head home…Okay, Baby. I’ll call you when we get home…You too.”
“Sorry about that,” said Elmo to Macy and his mother.
Then he and Macy noticed that something was wrong with Mallie Mae.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Mallie Mae?” said Macy.
Mallie Mae’s look of confusion morphed into fear. “I…I…wet…”
“Oh, no,” said Elmo.
Macy lifted the table cloth and looked underneath. Liquid was dripping off the sides of Mallie Mae’s chair, quickly forming several spots on the carpet.
“I’ll take her to the ladies room,” said Macy.
“Do you need help?” said Elmo.
“No, thanks. I think I can do it,” said Macy.
“I didn’t mean to,” said Mallie Mae. “I’m sorry.” She began to sob.
Macy helped her to her feet. “It’s okay. I’m here to take care of you.”
Elmo watched as Macy walked his mother toward the restroom. She was holding Mallie Mae’s purse behind her as they walked, attempting to hide the large wet spot on the back of her dress.
The ladies room was empty.
“I can’t believe you did that,” said Macy.
“What? You think I wet myself on purpose?” said Mallie Mae.
“Well, you did it right after Carsie called, so I figured—”
“—hey, you know I don’t want her as a daughter-in-law, but I would never purposely humiliate myself in a crowded restaurant.”
“I’m sorry. What happened? Did you just start peeing without knowing it?” said Macy.
“I don’t know. I was just sitting there, and then suddenly I felt wet. I don’t even remember doing it.”
Poor Mallie Mae, Macy thought. She had faked Alzheimer’s to manipulate her son. Now, maybe she really did have it.