My son rang me up this afternoon and said hed be popping round this evening, but not alonehed be bringing a girl along. He spoke in that careful, almost theatrical way, as if hed been rehearsing, weighing my possible reaction. I asked if theyd be staying long, and he hesitated before mumbling that it was just to introduce her, nothing major, though I could hear from his tone that it meant rather a lot to him. I said it was absolutely fine and, oddly enough, as soon as I hung up, found myself wandering to the kitchen, despite not having any particular reason to be there at that moment.
I decided to bake a meringue rouladejust for the occasion. As the egg whites beat in the mixer, I found myself wondering what kind of girl shed be. Young, obviously, probably very modern. Maybe outspoken. Or perhaps shy. The thought of her looks hadnt really crossed my mind then, especially not her lips.
They arrived. My son walked in first, grinning slightly, and said, Mum, this is Olivia.
I looked up… and everything inside me rather froze. The very first thing I noticed were her lipshuge, shiny, as if someone had just pumped them full of air. I genuinely wasnt sure where to look, because my gaze kept involuntarily flicking back to her mouth.
She offered me her hand and said, Lovely to meet you.
I smiled back automatically and couldnt help thinking if my late mother-in-law had seen such a wonder of modern beauty treatments, shed have been talking about it to her friends in the street for weeks. My generation just isnt used to lips like thatits not fashion, its downright cultural shock.
We sat down to eat. My son went overboard with the chivalrypulling out her chair, asking if she was warm enough, comfortable enough. Olivia put her mobile phonepractically a table guest at this pointbeside her plate and launched into a little speech about herself.
I keep a close eye on what I eat. You kind of have to these days.
Thats sensible, I said. Nothing’s more important than your health.
She nodded earnestly. I rarely touch bread at all now.
I nodded again, though I couldnt help thinking that if Id spent my whole life avoiding a good slice of bread, Id probably be an unbearable woman by now.
When I brought out the meringue roulade, my sons whole face lit up.
Mum, did you make this yourself?
Well, I didn’t order it in, did I? I quipped.
Olivia regarded the roulade, then looked back at me, and then at the cake again, making a face as though it were suspicious.
It looks lovely, she said. But its just sugar and cream, isnt it? A real calorie bomb.
I said nothing. I was genuinely trying to bite my tongue. My son gave an awkward little chuckle.
Mums baking is always delicious.
I dont doubt it, Olivia replied, but I wouldnt eat something like that.
And that was when I began to feel the irritation simmer inside me. It wasnt really about the roulade. Or even her words. It was about the way she said them. I glanced at my son, at this girl, and realised that if I kept silent again, Id only keep silent forevermore.
I put my teacup down rather louder than needed and said, Well, it takes all sorts, doesnt it? Were just simple folk here, I suppose.
She looked at me with those wide eyes over those enormous lips, giving a smile that suggested she hadn’t a clue what I was getting at. And right then, I knew the evening was just getting started.
There was an awkward hush after my comment about simple folk. My son stared purposefully into his cup of tea. Olivia sipped some water, watching me more carefully now, without that smile as though shed finally decided to examine me properly.
I didnt mean to offend, she said. Its just people care more about their health these days.
I care about health as well, I replied. Only, in my day, it wasnt measured in numbers of calories.
My son jumped in at once, Oh Mum, come onlet’s just not.
I gave him a look and suddenly understood that he was desperately trying to keep the peace and terrified of failing. For a moment, I didnt feel crossjust bitterly amused.
Olivia glanced at the roulade again. I just dont get why youd make so much sweet stuff. Its bad for you.
And there, something just snapped inside me. I put down my fork and said, in a way that surprised even myself, I dont get why youd have your lips done so big you could barely eat. But I dont mention that.
My son lifted his head. Mum…
Olivia flushed, her lips looking even more pronounced, and retorted sharply:
Thats none of your business.
Exactly, I said. And my roulade isnt yours, either.
A pause hung in the air. Her phone buzzed quietly on the table, but nobody reached for it. My sons face looked as though he’d rather be anywhere but here. And I realised maybe, for the first time in ages, Id actually said what I felt, instead of what was expected.
Olivia stood first. Thank you for dinnerI should go.
Of course, I answered. Dont let me keep you.
My son went to see her out. I could overhear muted snatches of their hushed argument in the hallwayhis aggravated, Oh, wait a minute, and her snapped, Did you even hear how she spoke to me? The door slammed, and the sudden hush in the house was so complete, I could hear the ticking of the kitchen clock Id meant to throw out months ago.
He came back in ten minutes later, sat down at the table again, glanced at the roulade and said, Why do you do that, Mum?
And what should I do? I countered. Pretend I like everything?
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.
You just dont get it things are different now.
I get this: if someone comes into your home and calls your food a calorie bomb first thing, its not about health. Its about attitude.
He sat in silence for a long while, then mumbled, She said shes not coming here again.
Well, she doesnt have to, I said. Ill manage.
He let out a sounda laugh, maybe, tired and without joy.
You know, sometimes Im just plain worn out by all of it counting calories, everything off limits.
I nudged the plate of roulade towards him.
Then have some, love. And drink your tea while its warm.
He took a fork, broke off a piece, tasted it, and said, Its lovely.
We sat in silence, but it was a different sort of silence. Later, he stood up, hugged me and said, You really are one of a kind.
And youre ever so obedient, I teased.
He left pretty late. I stayed at the kitchen table for a bit, finishing off the roulade and thinking about how the world changes and I dont have to embrace everything new. Sometimes, its enough just to stay true to yourselfeven if some people think thats wrong.
