“Mother,” Charise said in greeting, neither rising to embrace the older woman, nor attempting to kiss her.

“Charise, you look wicked pale,” Julianna replied, sitting down. “That dress is a ghastly color for you.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Charise deadpanned.

“Who’s the young man? Your fiancé?” Julianna asked.

“No, Mother,” Charise said dryly. “This is my housemate and one of my oldest friends, Samuel Verona.”


Julianna leaned close to her daughter. “You can tell me, dear. You are fooling around with him, aren’t you?”

Charise leaned back, angry. “Believe it or not, Mother, not all women are like you.”

Julianna sighed. “Let’s cut the BS, eh? Have you been doing well in school?”

“Ah, so you are going to play the role of mother for a few seconds,” Charise responded. “I suppose I’ll take the bait. I’ve been doing great, Mother.”


“I don’t see why you bother, darling. First of all, psychology… it’s such a lowly profession. You don’t make any money off of it, and everyone unloads their problems on you. And second, it’s pointless to go to college. I mean, look at me. I didn’t go to college, and I’m doing fine.”

Charise scowled. “Believe it or not, Mother, I would like to follow my own dreams. I have goals in life that don’t include being perpetually drunk or stoned. I would like to get a few degrees, get a normal job, and have a family. Stuff that you weren’t quite so good at accomplishing.”

“You needn’t be so resentful of me, Charise,” Julianna replied. “I was simply stating my opinion.”

“And I’m stating mine,” Charise shot back.


Julianna looked her daughter over. “I take back what I said about you fooling around with your friend,” she said. Charise started to smile, until Julianna continued, “What man would be stupid enough to want you? You’re a pasty, bookish, big-mouthed prude who is willing to enter a field where you’ll be paid to let people b**** to you constantly. Hell, you’ll be lucky if you’ll be married before you’re an old woman.”

Charise bit her lip, trying not to show the tears coming to her eyes.

“It’s harsh, dear,” Julianna drawled, “but it’s the truth. Men just… well… don’t go for your type. So, get used to being lonely. You have years of it ahead of you.”

Charise bolted from the table, uttering a soft wail. Julianna watched her run out of the restaurant. S glared at Julianna.


“You know,” he said, in a low voice that barely concealed his anger, “Charise asked me to come along because she said she knew you would pull something like that. But I never imagined any mother could treat her daughter so cruelly. You’re a monster. And guess what-- you may think only an idiot would love her. Well, I guess that makes me an idiot. Because, guess what. I’ve loved her for years. And believe it or not, ma’am, the good men don’t go for your type. Too trashy.”

He spat the last few words out, and then stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go comfort your daughter and assure her that she’s not some flawed piece of junk like you’d want her to think. I bid you adieu,” he said bitterly, turning on his heel and walking out.