She tricked me. I had successfully avoided her calls all morning. Jamming in my car, new championship title rejuvenating me from last night's horrors, I drove home. Concentrated on the passing cars, I accepted the unknown caller ID without a second thought.

       "You ran away?!" Quinn's incredulous tone rang across my car.

       I was missing out on Gaga for this?

       "You're supposed to be on your honeymoon," I changed the subject. I would not let the euphoria of my victory be washed away by her disappointment.

      "I'm taking a well-deserved break—"

      "TMI." I crinkled my nose.

      "I'm taking a well-deserved break," she started again. "To see what the hell went wrong with my perfect match making."

       "Please don't make me go through this again," I begged. "Glenn's a great guy, but it just didn't work out. I definitely could have handled myself better, and I'm sorry about that, but it is what it is."

       "I still think we need to talk about it—"

      "We will. Just not today."

      "But—"

      "Oh, would you look at that!" I cried out dramatically. "My mom's here early. Big family supper tonight."

       Stopped at a stop sign, I waved the opposing car ahead, only to be met with the same gesture. Going for it as the other car made the same decision, I swallowed my foul choices of words.

      "Is that so?" Quinn questioned skeptically.

      I hummed. "I told you about it, remember?"

       "I recall it being a late supper. It's barely two."

       I laughed nervously. "As I said, mom came early. If I want any chance of a decent supper, I better go before she starts cooking."

      "Alright," she folded. I didn't miss the skepticism in her tone. "But this conversation is far from—"

      Relief washing over me as she dropped the subject, I was slow to notice the changing green light. An impatient car's blaring horn interrupted Quinn.

     "What was that?"

      I cursed under my breath.

      "Damn neighbor," I made up. "He's messing around with his car again."

      "Your nearest neighbor is a half mile away."

      "He has an abnormally loud horn?"

     Quinn sighed. "Yasmine—"

      "Oh god!" I feigned urgency. "I see smoke, mom started cooking. Emergency. Go to go. Love you. Bye!"

      Hanging up before she could say another word, my urgent swipe sent the phone flying off its holder, across the dashboard.

      "Did you go out in public like that?" My mother asked the moment she walked through my front door.

      I admittedly didn't look my best. I had shown up on Lada's doorstep with nothing but the clothes on my back and a pair of heels in hand. The dress took quite a beating from my dramatic escape in the rain and groveling on the gravel road. I had to borrow Lada's clothes, and she was twice my size. She'd only been willing to lend me an old pair of sweatpants and an old leopard print shirt. I hadn't bothered to change. I wanted to start supper before mom had the chance to ruin it.

     "Hello, to you too," I greeted back.

     "Too loose," she fiddled with my shirt, before reaching for the wooden spoon I was using to stir the chicken. I swatted her hand away. She'd have one taste and drown it in salt. "You need to draw attention to your curves."

      "Mom!" I groaned, hiding my face in my hair.

      "I'm just—"

     "Can't the drilling wait until you've been here at least a half hour?" I asked. A simple how are you? would have sufficed. She had known Quinn since I was in preschool, you would think the first thing she would ask about would be the wedding. "I like to eat before I'm attacked for my looks and love life."

      She sighed but didn't say a word more. I didn't turn, but I knew she had rolled her eyes. I bought myself a bit more time of peace. I could expect the infliction of self-loathing after supper.

      "I can take over," she said, once again reaching for the spoon. This time she bumped her hip against mine, to shove me out of the way.

      Losing my balance, I caught myself on the counter. I pushed back, regarding her with my friendliest, forced, smile.

      "Really, it's okay," I insisted, tightening my grip on the spoon.

      "It needs more salt." She crunched her nose, studying my chicken disapprovingly.

      "I know. I'll add it," I lied, continuing quickly to distract her. "There's something else you could help me with..."

      Immediately she perked up. Zaina loved to help. She needed to feel needed.

      "I took your advice," I started again. That was always a good way to start with my mother. "I got some classy new plates and utensils. I was going to set the table, but I got nervous... You always place just the right amount of distance between the small spoon and the salad fork."

      I jerked my head towards the end of the wooden cabinet, guiding her attention towards the new silverware set. I thought the set was dreadfully dull. It had been sitting on my counter for weeks, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It was going back to the box the moment she left tonight. But for now, it was the perfect distraction.

      "I can set the table," she said excitedly. Excited to set the table? That was my mother.

      I forced a sigh of relief, as if I hadn't expected her to make the offer. Even had I taken the initiative of setting the table, she'd have changed it entirely. Who knew placing utensils next to a bowl and plate could be so complicated?

       My mother's attention fixed on the cutlery and table, I let myself relax. The shawarmas were saved. While she was preoccupied, I took a good look at her outfit of the day. Despite the casualness of our regular family suppers, she wore slim black trousers and a grey buttoned-down blouse. It was a typical Zaina Sarraf outfit. A style she frequently pestered me to undertake. As a part time businesswoman, she thought I ought to dress the part. I was sure, my questionable sense of style would be brought up tonight.

      "Hurry up", I texted my sister, Dina. Mom would only be able to bite her tongue so long.

       As soon as my mother finished the table, she turned my way with interest. I knew that scrutinizing look; a look that was ready to pick at all of your flaws until you promised to do better. Before she could open her mouth, I threw her another distraction. Casually I mentioned her favourite house renovating show and feigned dissatisfaction with my bedroom. With only two sentences, she was gone, marching up the stairs like a woman with a plan. A plan to modify my perfectly satisfactory bedroom.

       "You said supper was at five," Dina texted back. "I still have a half hour."

       Sighing, I called her. My sanity would not survive a half hour.

      "You know supper at five means that mom's been here since four." I made sure to keep my voice low, careful not to be heard by my mother's supernatural hearing.

      "Hello, I'm great thanks for asking," Dina answered sarcastically. "And that's your fault. You should have told her dinner was at six.

       I groaned into my free hand. "I wasn't thinking... I've been distracted."

      "Ooooh," Dina cooed. "Sounds intriguing."

      "No time for that." I snuck a careful glance at the stairs that led to the kitchen. "I'll tell you about my taking flight at the sight of dick when you get your butt here and mom's out of hearing."

      "Excuse me? Did you just say running away from dick?"

      "I'd rather have this conversation after mom's made me miserable for other reasons."

      "She's not that bad." I could practically hear the eye roll. This was a row we frequently had. Dina didn't get it. Mom thought she was perfect; Zaina's harsh scrutinizing gaze was never shot her way.

      "Ok, poster child. Married and expecting at twenty-one," I snorted. "She's already changed my entire table setting and moved my mugs to the plate cupboard, because the way I had it wasn't convenient." A noise above me catching my attention, I paused. Eyes narrowed, as I concentrated, I recognized the distinct noise as my bed being dragged across my hardwood floor. "And she's currently rearranging my bedroom."

       "And you didn't subtly hint that she does so?"

       "I had to do something." I huffed. "She greeted me by insulting my clothes. I felt the you're a disappointment conversation coming, so I sent her away."

     "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

      "Faster," I urged. "What happened to our agreement that you'd arrive early at any event to save me from the misery of being the oldest child?"

      "I'm six months pregnant. Cut me some slack."

      "You should have anticipated the extra five minutes it takes to put on shoes."

      "First, there are so many things that take an extra couple of minutes. It adds up. And second, I had to pick up Elias from chest club."

       "Hello," my little brother sang.

      Oops. It hadn't even occurred to me that my mother's dependent child wasn't with her. Dina could have told me she was in the car and had me on speaker phone. Elias Ayers had a big mouth; a big mouth that love brownie points from mom.

      "I could have picked him up," I said. Dina already had so much on her plate. Mom knew I wasn't doing anything tonight.

      "And mom miss out on torturing you?" Dina snickered.

      I huffed defeatedly, still very much aware of the sound of moving furniture above my head.

      "Plus, I like D's car better," Elias felt the need to add.

      "Excuse me?" I countered. Dina had a black minivan. "I have a Rolls-Royce."

     "D's got more leg room."

     "You're 12," I said. "You're barely five feet. How much leg room do you need?"

      The boy had no taste. We may share the same black eyes and bridged nose, but this is where our different paternal genetics were put to evidence. My father had impeccable taste in cars; his clearly did not.

      With the attention span of a twelve-year-old, Elias jumped to the next interesting subject. "What's this about you running away from a penis?"

      I choked on my saliva, phone nearly slipping from my fingers.

       "I too would like to know the answer to that?" I could hear the grin on Dina's likely bright red lips.

        "What kind of situation are we dealing with, in which you're faced with a pant-less person?" I could picture the way Elias' thick brows were pinched together.

       Dina chortled while I swallowed a groan.

      "I didn't say penis. I said Dick. As in a person."

      "A person?" Elias echoed.

      I hummed in agreement.

      "What did Dick do?"

       I fell silent; that night's embarrassment returning.

       "Did Dick threaten you with a good time?" Dina laughed.

       "No." I pinched the bride of my nose. "Long story short: I didn't want to play Tennis."

      "I'm going to need the long story," Dina decided.

      "Get here within the next five minutes and I'll consider it."

      The car revved as Dina's foot pressed harder onto the gas pedal.

      Conversation momentarily dropped, my saviors soon to arrive, I let myself relax. Hanging up, I turned to plug my cell and jumped into the kitchen island.

       Nose only inches from mine, my mother stood with her hands on her hips. That was a dangerous look.

      "Um..." I took two steps backwards. "I was just talking with Dina and—"

      "Where are they?" she asked plainly.

      "They're on their way..." I frowned slightly at her tone.

      "Not them." She rolled her eyes. "The first drawer on your night able slide open when I moved it. All you have is a kindle in there."

      I blinked at her. "And?

      "That's supposed to be the dildo drawer. Why would you store them anywhere else?"

      I cocked my head to the side, blinking as I angled my ears her way. I was certain I had heard her wrong. But she stood her ground.

       "I don't own a dildo!" I eventually spluttered; outburst not related to the idea of owning a dildo but rather her audacity to question me about it. A vibrator though... That was a different story.

      "That's ridiculous. How could—"

      "We. Are not. Having this conversation."

      "Is this a finance thing?" she inquired. "You need to take care of yourself. Can you not afford to take care of your pleasures? I told you, you needed a better marketing scheme."

      "Good god, mom." I backed up some more, hands cradling my head exasperatedly. Shooting her one more crazed look, I headed for the front door.

      "Where are you going?"

      "I need some air," I said, swinging the front door open. "I'm going to wait outside until Dina and Elias arrive."

     "Fine," she breathed, without an inkling of remorse. No care that she was driving me out of my own home.

      I didn't have to turn. Hand still on my doorknob, I knew. I knew by the sound of her shuffling feet that she was heading towards the stove.

      "Please do not touch the food," I requested coolly. "I mean it, mom."

      "Whatever you like," she grumbled, plopping down on one of the stools around my marble island. I was certain that that wasn't where I'd find her when I returned.

      Without another word, I shut the door. I plopped down on my porch swing, swinging until my siblings came to my rescue.

      Dina covered her mouth to hide her laughter the moment she saw me.

      "Don't get me started," I laughed pulling her into a hug.

      Stating the obvious, I told her how big she had gotten. Excitedly speaking of my nephew or niece to be, I ruffled Elias' hair before we met my mother in the living room. Turning away from the picture frame she was repositioning, she smiled brightly, a completely different person in the presence of her favourite children.

      The food was pretty great, if I do say so myself, which meant my mother had actually respected my request. That didn't happen often. Maybe she was capable of remorse.

      "Grandma's dying," mom announced half-way through our meal. Forget what I said.

      "What?" Dina and I choked on our mouthfuls.

       Equally surprised, Elia's dark eyes widened behind his round glasses.

      "Oh," mom dismissed our concerns with a brush of hand. "She had it coming, she's never been the healthiest."

      Blinking dumbfoundedly, my jaw fell slack. Dear God, she was heartless sometimes.

       "Shut your mouth, dear." Mom tapped my chin. "It's unattractive."

      I snapped my jaw shut and threw my hands up. "Could you at least pretend to care?"

      "I do care," she objected. "You've told me countless times that I care too much."

      I blinked again, watching her stupidly until I understood what she meant. I dropped my head in my hands, while Dina's lips quivered amusedly, shovelling Jell-O in her mouth.

      "I didn't mean my appearance," I finally said defeatedly. "I was referring to your dying mother!"

      "Yasmine," mom chided. "You're being a little dramatic."

      Unattractiveness be damned, I let my mouth fall open again.

      "You did come off a little insensitive," Dina chimed in.

      Immediately mom's face softened. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention."

     Of course, she listens to Dina.

     "I know." Dina patted her hand. "Was that the reason you called us all together?"

      "Kind of," mom started.

       Kind of? There was something she deemed more important?

       Mom explained that the doctors found another tumor a few months ago. Grandma Agatha had been in remission for six years, first diagnosed with breast cancer 10 years ago. After that first tumor reappearance, 3 months ago, they found more, cancer metastasized. The treatment working was unlikely. At her age it wasn't worth it. She had at most a year to live. And with all this information, mom thought it most important that grandma was coming to visit at the end of summer. She wanted us to get our ducks in a row. She didn't want to disappoint her mother. And by us, she was clearly mainly targeting me.

       "Elias will maintain his grades and will help me renovate a room for grandma." She smiled at her youngest. "She'll be arriving around the time you're due." She turned towards Dina. "The nursery will already be done. You don't have much to worry about... And Yasmine." She turned my way, smile faltering. "I suspect you're mature enough to get your things together."

       I cocked a brow.

       "You know how grandma is," she tried. "She's going to pry into every little aspect of your life."

      I resisted the urge to cough, sounds familiar. "So?" I asked instead. "We get along well. And I do a good job of keeping my house clean, my car is well maintained, and I just finalized opening my own practice."

      "What about the important things?"

      "Those are important things, mom."

      "You're almost thirty Yasmine!" She informed me, as if I didn't know my own age. "Grandma will expect a stable family. She wants her grandchildren to be at their happiest. She wants great-grandchildren."

      I gestured animatedly towards Dina's swollen belly. "She'll have great-grandchildren. And I am happy."

       "For now," she countered. "What happens in ten years when you realise it's too late. Everyone will have been married. You'll have passed your prime childbearing years. You'll struggle to find someone—"

      "Has it ever occurred to you that not everyone wants children. That not everyone can have children. I have different aspirations—"

      "Do you not want children?" Her voice was shrill like.

      Usually, Dina and Eli thought our spats amusing, but today they shifted in their seats.

      "I don't know what I want, yet." I admitted. It wasn't something I thought about. It's not that I was against having children, but it wasn't something I envisioned any time soon. If I decided that it was something I wanted in the future, and I didn't have a sperm donor as a partner, there were still many other means to go about it. "I know you don't understand it. You've always prioritized love and building a family. And there's nothing wrong with that. That's what you wanted. But that's not what I want right now. I have different aspirations. If love comes along the way, okay. But I'm not forcing it."

       "Life isn't like the movies!" Mom's face turned red. "You can't wait around for things to happen. You have to make an effort."

      "You don't know—"

     "I know you think I'm being harsh," she interrupted, voice softening. "But I want you to be happy. I don't want you to wake up someday and realise that life has passed you by."

      I sighed; eyes squinted painfully as I tried to understand her point of view. Tough love; it's what Mom did best.

       "Do you really want to watch all your friends have families without you? Do you want to wake up in a Nursing home with no one to hold your hand?"

       I swallowed. "I guess not..."

       She nodded pointedly. "Then maybe you ought to reconsider some things."

       My gaze fell to my bowl, absently running my spoon through my Jell-O.

      "For the record," I started uncertainly. Why did I always feel compelled to meet her unrealistic expectations? "I went on a date last night. So, the lack of effort thing isn't entirely true."

      Mom perked up, mood changing instantaneously. "How did it go?"

       "Awful."

       Dina spit out her mouthful, choking on a fistful of laughter.

      Mom threw her hands up in surrender. Before she could criticize me some more, I spoke up.

      "I'm going on another one, tomorrow," I lied. It probably wasn't a lie, I'm sure one of the girls had something planned soon, if not tomorrow.

      "Really?" She didn't try to contain her excitement.

      "Would I lie to you?"

      Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's his name?"

      "I don't know yet," I said. "It's a friend of a friend."

      She hummed. "So, if I drive by tomorrow, you won't be here?"

      I nodded, keeping my face neutral. I wouldn't cower under her challenging tone. "I don't know what time we're meeting, but likely yes."

      "I'll call you afterwards."

      "I'm not sure how late we'll be."

      Mom cocked a brow. "We'll discuss it at the baby shower, then?"

      Dina's baby shower was two days from now.

      "I'm looking forward to it." I smiled forcefully.

      The moment my mother was seated in her car, not even out of the driveway yet, I pulled out my phone.

       "Who's up? I need a date, tomorrow."  I message the group chat.

       Returning my aloe plant to its proper corner, I dropped down on the sofa. Only then, with a moment to clear my mind, did it occur to me, that the group chat message was unnecessary. I could have just lied. I could have spent the day anywhere but at home, so mom wouldn't see the car in the driveway and then I could make something up at the shower. Curse my honesty.