Through The Grinder

me the redhead’s name? It was this really cool dude named Bruce.”

My heart sank. Completely sank.

“I need an espresso,” I said.

I turned to put the coffee through the grinder. Funny how the hardest beans were no match for these sharp, little blades. When they whirred and spun, every whole little bean was aloofly chopped into unrecognizable bits — which is exactly what I felt was happening to me.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Ohmygod. Look what you wrote here about Bruce.”

“Give me that,” I said reaching. Joy stepped backward.

“Mom…what does this mean?”

“Honey, it’s just a few scribbles. Give it here!” I lunged but the counter stopped me.

“What does it say, Joy?” asked Tucker. “What did she label Bruce?”

“Mr. Right.”

Nine

“He just made a good impression on me, that’s all,” I tried to tell Joy.

“Mr. Right?” said Tucker. “I’d say that’s a little more significant than just ‘a good impression.’”

“Did he make a date with you?” asked Joy.

I studied my daughter’s pretty, pensive face, dreading her reaction. I knew very well that a part of Joy had never given up hope that I would one day get back together with her father.

Her grandmother (my ex-mother-in-law) felt the same way. Madame’s offer to me of equity over time — in the Blend and the duplex — was not a sole offer. She’d made the same deal with her son, Matteo, arranging our future so that we’d both one day co-own this building and its business, which, if fortune smiled, I assumed we would both eventually leave to Joy.

With her strategic little deal, my ex-mother-in-law was clearly harboring the same hopes as my daughter — that I’d one day remarry Matt.

But I couldn’t live my life by other people’s hopes.

Not anymore.

Getting back together with my ex-husband was off the charts. Out of the question. I’d remain civil to Matt, of course — sometimes even more than civil. There were times when I actually enjoyed Matt’s company, but as a friend. Nothing more.

I was through loving Matt too much. Through being infatuated with his larger-than-life presence. Through letting him hurt me. And if part of that meant becoming romantically involved with another man — or men — then so be it. It was time I moved on.

Still, I hated the idea of hurting Joy. This whole night was supposed to have been about my trying to prevent her from getting hurt.

I met my daughter’s green eyes. “I’ll tell you the truth, okay? Bruce Bowman and I had a very nice little meeting, but that’s all it was. He asked me out, but I really don’t think he’ll call. He left with that Sahara McNeil person, and it’s obvious he’s much more interested in her than me.”

“No, he’s not.”

I blinked. That was the last thing I’d expected Joy to say. “Of course, he is, honey. So just forget about it.” I turned to my assistant manager. “Tucker, we need more cardboard heat sleeves. Can you bring some out from the pantry?”

“Sure, Clare.”

I abandoned my espresso beans and turned to continue checking inventory, but Joy wasn’t taking the hint that I’d closed this discussion. She came around the counter and began following me as I surveyed the shelves and cabinets.

“Listen, Mom, Bruce told me Sahara McNeil is just an old college friend. He was glad to see her only because he was hoping to reconnect with some other classmates they both knew.”

“Honey, it sounds like this McNeil woman is an old flame, and he wants to date her again.”

“No. Listen. When Bruce sat down, he told me right off the bat that I was too young for him — he was really nice about it, too, but he said he’d tried dating someone a year ago in her early twenties, someone who worked in his office, and it was a disaster, so I was definitely not even in the ballpark. So we just chatted in general and he mentioned being surprised at seeing his old classmate sitting at the table next to mine. I quietly asked him if he was interested in her, and he shook his head no. He told me she was always too far out for him. Too edgy. Said her real name was Sally but in college she’d changed it to Sahara because it sounded more artsy. I could tell by the way he said it that he thought that was sort of silly and phony. He said he liked more down-to-earth women. So, of course, I told him about you.”

“You what?” I stopped checking inventory and faced my daughter in shock.

“I told him he should keep an eye out for someone special around the circle, a woman in a green velvet dress named Clare, because she would be the best connection he’d have a chance at making. Ever.”

“You said that?”

“Yeah, Mom. I want you to be happy, you know. And I liked Bruce. So I’m glad you and he connected.”

“I’m not sure we did, honey. But I’m…I’m very glad you’re glad.”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“Because I thought…” I shook my head and took a break from checking inventory. I went back over to the grinder and processed more beans, enough for three espresso shots.

“What did you think?” asked Joy. “C’mon, tell me.”

“I thought you were hoping I’d get back together with your dad.”

Joy shrugged. “I do…but…”

“But what?”

“But I want you to be happy. And…to tell you the truth…well…you remember Mario?”

“Sure.”

“You remember how I told Esther I hadn’t really been into him or anything?”

“Yes.”

“I lied. I really liked him, Mom, and I was really hurt when he broke it off with me…”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was personal, and I was…I don’t know…embarrassed, I guess. I thought it would be easier to pretend he didn’t matter to me. And, you know, after the hurt, I was so angry with him, Mom, I could have killed him.”

I sighed. “Honey, believe me, I know what you went through.”

“Exactly…Look, remember when you said you wanted to try dating again? I wasn’t thrilled at first, and I did want you to get back together with Dad, but then I thought how I would feel if you wanted me to get back together with Mario, even after he broke my heart and made me so angry and everything…and well, I wouldn’t be very happy with you if you dumped that on me, you know?”

“That’s different, Joy. Mario and I don’t have a relationship. You and your father do. So it’s natural you’d want me to get back together with him. But no matter what happens with me and your dad, your dad will always love you. And so will I. That’s not going to change.”

“Sure, Mom. You’ve told me that, like, a million times. And for a long time I still couldn’t help feeling like the whole world would be right again if only you and Dad remarried…but I’m starting to think that maybe it’s not realistic. And so…I figure if you and Dad aren’t going to get back together…then there’s no reason you shouldn’t be happy. I mean, if any Mom deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

I reached under the counter — way under, behind the unopened coffee syrups and boxes of wooden stirrers.

“You know what this calls for?” I announced, motioning for Tucker to come over and join us.

“What?”