Chapter 16: VII. First (Official) Date-2

I wasn't expecting anyone. It might be a charity. I had some cash in my purse from work if it was. I pulled open the door to see Shea standing under the eave with a bunch of Gerber daisies in his hand. One of the million questions he had asked me last night was my favourite flower. But I had answered lilies. Gerber daisies were my mom's favourites. That had been one of his questions, too. "Are flowers enough to grease your mom up?" he asked. Oh my God, Shea was wearing a pressed shirt. The gesture would have been really sweet if the white fabric didn't hug his perfect torso so well. "Perfect for your funeral," I teased. "But Shea, seriously. My mom is really against me having anything to do with boys. She got pregnant young and she's terrified that I'm going to get knocked up and not go to college. All she'll see when she looks at you is a giant sperm producer." Wow, Sara, that was graphic and gross. Shea held his hands up in defence. "I know. But I plan on hanging around for a while, you know. She's got to meet me sooner or later. The quicker she sees that I'm not a serial killer out to impregnate her daughter, the quicker she'll like me. I hope." I knew he was right. If Mom didn't meet him now, we were just going to have this conversation next week, or the one after. And I wanted her to know. I didn't want to lie to her. "Okay, well, just make sure there's at least three feet between us at all times," I cautioned, taking the flowers and inviting him inside. I made spaghetti for the three of us while we waited for Mom to get home from work. Shea sat at the kitchen counter watching me cook, or rather watching me try not to burn anything. "Don't be expecting anything gourmet," I warned. "I was raised on take-out. I speak fluent Chinese food menu." I dumped a jar of tomato pasta sauce on the spaghetti and stirred it through. Shea laughed. "You'll have to let me cook for you some time. My dad was a great cook." I smiled. "I'd like that." Just as I was dishing up the spaghetti into three bowls, the front door opened and my mom came in. "Oh, God bless remission, Sara," she cried. She hadn't noticed Shea at the counter, but she was in a good mood. She'd had a good day thankfully. "One of my babies from New York flew down specifically to see me. He's going to be okay, thank God." No sooner had she dumped her bag and keys, she noticed that I was not the only one in the room. Shea climbed off the stool immediately. Mom frowned as her eyes flitted between Shea and me. "Uh, Mom, this is Shea, my …" We hadn't really discussed labels yet. I couldn't call him my boyfriend before he asked. "Um, and Shea, this is my mom, Dr Amanda Bryant." Shea crossed the room to my mom with his hand extended. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr Bryant. Sara's told me so much about you," he said politely. He was trying to be charming. That wouldn't work on Mom. Mom looked him up and down suspiciously. "Really? Sara's told me nothing about you." She then eyed me, giving me a look that told me we'd be having a chat later. Shea laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, it's all new. I guess she hasn't had a chance yet. But I wanted to come over and meet you. Introduce myself … and ask your permission to take Sara out tomorrow night." Permission? No! She might have let me go to the game if she thought I was being social with my new friends. But now that she knew it was for a date she would say no! "Shea brought you flowers, Mom," I offered half-heartedly, holding up the bunch of Gerber daisies on the counter. Mom barely looked. "I'm sorry, how old are you?" she asked Shea accusingly. "You look too old to be at Sara's school." "Eighteen, ma'am," he replied. "I'm a senior. And, uh, as to my appearance, I guess that's just genetics." "Eighteen?" she repeated. "And how many sexual partners have you had?" Shea choked on air and I just about died from humiliation. "Mom!" I cried. Mom gave me a look that said, "What?". "Shea, you don't have to answer that." I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer to that. "One in four teenagers contract an STD in the United States every year," Mom said defensively. "And three in ten American girls will get pregnant before they're twenty. Fifty percent of those mothers never finish high school." Where was she pulling these stats from? Did she just have them on file on the off chance that I brought a guy home? "Mom," I said again firmly. "You're embarrassing me." Shea just looked shell-shocked. "Better you're embarrassed than me becoming a grandmother before I'm forty. Or me having to write you a prescription to treat chlamydia," she snapped. I wondered if I prayed hard enough if the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Shea seemed to regain his voice after the shock of my mom's medical jargon. "Dr Bryant, I care about your daughter very much. We aren't doing anything irresponsible, and I would never put her in harm's way. I'm not some sycophant out to impregnate Sara. I just want to be with her. I get good grades, and I look after my family. I just wanted to ask as a courtesy if I could take her to the game tomorrow night and a friend's party afterwards." Mom pursed her lips. "What's your surname, Shea?" What? That was random. Didn't she hear all the sweet things that Shea said? "Braverman," Shea replied. Mom nodded slowly. "How are your parents?" Wait, did Mom know Shea's family from before? "My dad died three years ago. Mom took it pretty hard," Shea replied glumly. Mom seemed a little shocked. She had known them. Had they gone to high school together perhaps? "Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that." Shea managed a small, polite smile. "Shea, let me speak with my daughter. She'll see you at school tomorrow, I'm sure." I knew that tone. My heart sunk. Shea didn't approach me. He offered me a small smile and his eyes flashed up, gesturing to my bedroom upstairs. He would be waiting for me after I was done speaking with Mom. Shea left and shut the front door behind him. Mom's eye's followed Shea out before she rounded on me. "Saraphine Jo Bryant, you will not see that boy again, do you understand me?"