A Man of Unusual Talent

A Man of Unusual Talent "You Know How Mondays Are" Chapter 5

Chapter Five

May 25: "You know how Mondays are."

CC accepted the vegetable peeler his mother handed him automatically, then stood there waving it in the air as he talked. "I don't know what to wear. I did all my laundry...and still nothing." His fingertips tingled mildly, but his guts were clenched tight. Terror or anticipation...either one would work.

"You sure are stressed over this date, honey. Is this guy that important?" Margaret Cain tossed him a potato, which he neglected to catch, so it smacked him in the chest and thudded onto the countertop.

"It's just the movies...and technically we're babysitting, so...jeans should be okay, right?" He fumbled the potato and began cutting the peel from it in long strips. "I have great jeans I bought at the thrift store two weeks ago. They're black and..." He broke off before he blurted out that his ass looked fabulous in them. Like his mother needed to know that. "I just can't find a shirt..." That made his thin chest look as good as the rest of him in those jeans.

"What about that green dress shirt we picked up at the Macy's clearance sale last month? You looked so nice in that one." His mother continued chopping carrots for a pot of beef stew that would serve as their "to go" meals for the next week. This was one of their rituals, had been as long as CC could remember. Some of his earliest memories were of standing on a chair in the kitchen at this counter, fumbling with clumsy fingers and fat vegetables, making big batches of chili, stew, or pasta sauce. He'd been the only kid in elementary school who brought hot lunches in a thermos. When he was six he'd have killed for a peanut butter sandwich and an Oreo cookie.

CC sliced the last bit of red skin off the potato in his hand and dumped the potato into a colander in the sink before reaching for another one. He knew which shirt she meant...had considered it himself. "It's winter weight fabric Mom. I'd sweat like a pig in the theater in that...especially if—" Once again he broke off, afraid to reveal the name of his date in case Mat wasn't into being gay in public. "If he sits next to me." He finished, ducking his head and staring intently at the second potato as strips of red peeled back, revealing pure white flesh beneath. The scent of garlic and onion thankfully overpowered the cloying marshmallow scent as it intensified.

"Well, then...what about that blue sequin number you wore to that club on New Years?" She rolled three more potatoes in his direction.

"Mom! That shirt is...I wore it for a joke." And it had cost all of two dollars. The shirt was cheap, and loud. The last thing he wanted Mat Giraud to think of him was that he was cheap and loud. "And even if it were a nice shirt, sequins are not appropriate for the movies with kids."

Setting down the paring knife she'd been using, Margaret turned to face him. "Exactly. What would be appropriate to wear to the movies with kids is a nice t-shirt...like the v-neck gray striped one sitting on top of that pile of laundry you just did." She shook her head, pursed her lips. "You're trying too hard, Colin. Just be yourself, dress like yourself, and this guy...who I notice you have not named...which does not give me good impressions...will love you."

CC snorted before he could stop himself. "Mom...look at me. I'm skinny, short and the best thing about me is that I'm two inches this side of homely. I do have nice hair." He forced himself to add the last...

Her hands slapped on narrow hips, Margaret glared him down. CC felt about two inches tall after enduring that stare for a full sixty seconds.

"Mom—"

"Colin Crane..." She cut him off then huffed. "This is my fault. You inherited my small stature and plain features. But...you got your father's hair and brain...and that's not a little thing, CC."