Chapter 14

“Eeek!” She shrieked, as always, and clutched at her heart melodramatically. As if she could scarcely be expected to recognize her own live-in son in the same jeans he’d been wearing for fifteen years, or perhaps she’d mistaken him for one of the infamous gang of burglars that roved the neighborhood breaking into homes half in drag.

“Ma.”

“Oh, it’s you Ashok,” Monica said, pantomiming her relief with equal fervor.

“Cuz who else would it be?”

“You know I can’t recognize you with your face all done up like that,” she said. “Good grief, I hope you didn’t let Danny see you in that state.”

“No, Ma, we stayed in New Mexico. And for your information, Danny has seen me with my face all done up like this.”

Again with the heart clutching. “If that’s what you wore to dinner last night, so help me…”