It's a quiet but chilly morning on the river. I zip my jacket up to my chin to ward off the slight nip in the air, but otherwise enjoy the silence under the bright, unstirring October sky. I glance down at my phone again as her message comes through and respond immediately.

I grin, set a reminder on my calendar app to pick up a latte for her on Monday afternoon. I type out a quick message to Charlie, then feel my mom's hand on my shoulder. She doesn't say anything, just stands behind me, strong and silent. Finally, when I don't speak, she sits next to me on the bench overlooking the Green River.

"Whatcha' thinkin', son?"

"Just came out here to make a few work calls. The kids napping?" I gesture with my head toward my sister's house.

"Yes, thank God. I love my grandbabies but that Caroline is practically feral."

My phone chimes again.

I chuckle at her response. She'd really think I'm lame if she knew that's not the entire truth. The party is not until this evening. I took the day off to meet with Marc, an old high school friend who's now a successful business attorney. I pitched an idea for consulting business, and he liked it. It's not that I don't love my job, I do. It's just that my favorite thing about my job is working with students and families. Helping them reach their goals. The more I move up in the traditional college structure, the more I have to focus on big-picture recruiting and yield strategies and the farther I get from that individual student interaction. 

I've been toying with the idea of a private admissions consulting business, where I could work with students and families in putting together their admissions applications.  Structuring the LLC and registering with the Secretary of State sound surprisingly simple. It's the funding that's the issue. No reputable bank or investor will consider a business loan while I'm on probation. It's too risky. The plan isn't dead, just dormant until I finish my sentence. I don't know that I'll even be ready to make a career move then, but I like having a back-up plan. It's too much to text, but I can't wait to tell Blaise about it. I think she'll appreciate the concept, especially the idea of assisting first generation students. Afterall, it was her experience and perspective that inspired this.

"You sure that's work?" Mama looks down at my phone, then back to me with a smile.

"Yes, mother." I dare a glance her direction and she's still grinning at me.

"Is it that pretty redhead you work with?"

"Miranda? No. Just Charlie."

She turns her head swiftly, her eyes rounding and eyebrows raising. She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it. Opens, then shuts it again.

"Oh." She exhales. "Okay. I, um..." She turns her head and stares at the water for a moment. I take the opportunity to check my most recent message.

I won't see her again until Monday. Four days is the longest I've gone without seeing her since August, and my chest tightens at the thought.

I close my eyes, and I can picture her rolling her eyes at my message. I smile and glance back down at my mom. Her brow is furrowed, and she's biting at her cuticle. I hadn't realized she and Blaise shared this particular habit until now.

"You okay, Mama?" I ask. She looks up at me, her face blanched.

"Yes, I just..." She looks back at the steamboat. "I just didn't realize you and Charlie had that kind of a relationship."

"What do you mean?" She fidgets in her seat and bites at her cuticle again.

"Son, mothers have intuition when it comes to their babies." I resist the urge to roll my eyes, something I'd never do in front of her, but I'm well into my thirties, clearly not a baby. "Apparently we miss things." She glances at my phone, which is vibrating again in my hand. "But you've seemed different this visit. Happier. And I know that love-struck, goofy grin on your face." 

My eyes widen and I have to stifle a laugh. Oh, for the love of all that is holy, my mom thinks I'm gay. "Mama..." I start, but she interrupts me.

"Honey, I love and support you no matter what. I'm just surprised, is all."

"Mama," I can't hold in the laughter anymore.

"What? Charlie is very handsome. Those turquoise eyes and pouty lips?" She pretends to fan herself and nudges me with her shoulder. Jesus, now I'm going to have to put my own mother on my women-to-keep-away-from-Charlie list. "You could do worse."

"Mama, I'm not gay."

Now she's the one who looks confused.

"Honey, it's fine. I know she was your first little girlfriend and there hasn't been a woman since," she pauses, her face puckering, "that wife of yours."

"She's not Voldemort. You can say her name."

"Volda-who?"

"Never mind. I'm not gay. Charlie and I are co-workers and friends."

She exhales. "I didn't think that boy was gay. A charmer, that one," she murmurs, staring at the water with a far-away, dreamy look in her eyes. Mama's going to the top of the fucking list.

"Wait, you think I'm gayer than Charlie?"

"It's not a competition, dear. I guess my intuition is just all off today. Sorry."

I take another sip and consider confiding in my mother. The woman supported me through a divorce, lengthy legal battle and my fleeting, imaginary homosexuality. I should give her more credit.

"It's not just Charlie I'm texting. There's also a girl."

She beams at me, her wide smile emphasizing the deep crows feet around her caramel-colored eyes.

"I knew it."

"Now, don't go gettin' any ideas of grandchildren in your head. It's a girl I care very much for, but she's off limits. For lots of reasons."

Her face falls and she looks down at her hands. "Oh, honey. Is she married?" I look up at her, in shock.

"Of course not."

"A lesbian?"

"No."

"Well I don't understand. Is she a nun?"

I chuckle. "No, Mama."

"Then is she really off limits?"

I sigh. "She has a boyfriend."

My mom laughs. "Oh, honey. Is that all?"

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying. Unless there's a ring on that finger you fight for a girl if she's worth it."

She's worth fighting for. It's the consequences she'd face that stop me.

"She's my employee. And a student. You know how the university is."

My mom nods, clearly seeing my predicament. "How old is she?"

"Probably not old enough." She raises an eyebrow at me. "Nineteen."

"Oh honey, that is awful young. She's an adult, but barely. That kind of age gap can be very problematic. What are you going to do?"

I sigh. "Nothing. Keep my distance, I reckon." Lie.

"I hate to see you in pain, but its nice to see you moving on." She pats my thigh, then puts her arm around me and pulls me in for a hug. She's so petite her hand barely reaches my opposite shoulder. "She's not the only girl in the world, sweetheart." Another lie. She stands and stretches, then looks back at the house. "I'm gonna go rest while I still have a moment of peace. Then I'm gonna fill those babies full of sugar and leave them for your sister to deal with."

"You're evil."

She shrugs. "I'm grandma." She bends down and kisses my temple. As she walks away, I look down at Blaise's message blinking on my screen.

An uneasy feeling churns in my gut. The Pike can get rowdy. And it's been the site of more than one assault complaint in the last few years. I take a deep breath and rub the back of my neck while I contemplate a response.

For the first time, I hope the boyfriend will be with her. She responds immediately.

Jana is tougher than most men I know. So is Blaise, for that matter. She'll be fine with the girls, as long as they stay together. I still don't like it, not from the stories I've heard over the years.

The second I hit send, I start to regret the last sentence. The Pike is the last place I need to be seen tonight, especially with her. But I need her to know she has that option. The three dots on the bottom of the screen bounce, then disappear. They reappear, and then vanish again. After the third maddening cycle, her text comes through. 

"Uncle Jamie!" My niece's squeal gives me a half second warning before she catapults herself onto my back, nearly knocking me over. I regain my balance and slip my phone in my pocket. I kneel down to her eye level.

"Aren't you supposed to be napping?"

Her face breaks out in a triumphant grin.  "I escaped."

I chuckle and ruffle her hair. "I'm pretty sure that's against the rules." 

She smooths her hair down and sticks her tongue out at me. "Sometimes it's more fun to break the rules." She grabs my hand and tugs "Come on Uncle Jamie. Let's go find some trouble."