Weaknesses

Lois Tague finally had something to be excited about. Her daughter, Eva, was coming home from college for the summer.  Lois and Eva always had fun together.  When Eva was home, they were always going shopping, to movies, and trying out new restaurants.  Lois's husband, the managing partner of a law firm, had no  time for recreation and not much time for Lois. The only slight wrinkle was that Eva was bringing her boyfriend with her for the summer, which Lois knew would detract from the time she and her daughter could spend alone. Lois wondered if it was old fashioned of her to get the guest room ready, but her husband would possibly stroke out if his 19 year old daughter and her boyfriend shared a bedroom.

She smoothed her shoulder-length blond hair behind one ear and glanced at her reflection in the glass. At forty-four, she still held onto the remnants of her younger self, the woman who had once drawn looks without effort. Now the heads turned less often, and the compliments had settled into the polite variety.  She wondered when she had stopped looking good and instead started looking good for her age. But today, she had a glow.  She had an entire summer with her daughter to look forward to. 

The sound of tires on gravel pulled her attention back to the driveway. Eva's car appeared, a sleek convertible that Roger had bought her for her eighteenth birthday. The top was down, and even from this distance Lois could see the long blond hair whipping around her daughter's face. Eva stepped out first, radiant in the way only nineteen could manage, her skin glowing from the sun and pure youth. She moved with that effortless confidence that made Lois feel both proud and strangely wistful at the same time.

Then the passenger door opened, and Gabriel Vance climbed out. He was taller than Lois had expected, broad-shouldered with the kind of build that came from working at it. His dark hair caught the light, and even from inside the house she could sense the quiet gravity he carried with him. He did not look like a college boy who had come along for the ride. He looked like a man who belonged somewhere else, somewhere more substantial than their manicured suburb. In fact, he looked entirely wrong for Eva. He seemed too serious, too solid for a girl who changed her mind as often as her clothes. Lois watched him with a sudden, protective curiosity, wondering what her flighty daughter had gotten herself into.

She walked to the front door and opened it before they could knock. Eva rushed forward first, all energy and chatter, her arms wrapping around Lois in a quick hug that smelled like sunscreen and perfume.

"Mom, you're going to love Gabe," Eva whispered, pulling back with that bright, toothy smile. "He's so much more mature than the guys I've dated before. I told him he had to come with me this summer because I couldn't stand to spend three months without him."

Lois managed a warm smile, though her attention had already shifted to the man standing a few steps behind her daughter. Gabe extended his hand, and when she took it the grip was firm and warm, his palm calloused in a way that surprised her. His dark brown eyes met hers with a quiet, polite intensity. He was studying her just as she was studying him, but there was no boyish eagerness in his face. He seemed completely self-assured, almost intimidatingly so for a twenty-two-year-old.

"Mrs. Tague," he said, his voice low and steady. "Thank you for having me. I appreciate it."

"Please, call me Lois," she said, trying to keep her tone light and welcoming. She released his hand and stepped back, gesturing them inside. "Come on in. You must be tired from the drive."

They followed her through the foyer and into the kitchen, where sunlight poured through the large windows and caught on the polished counters. Eva dropped her bag on one of the stools and immediately started complaining about the heat and how her laundry was already piling up in the trunk. Her voice filled the room, high and fast, moving from one topic to the next without pause. Lois poured lemonade into tall glasses, her hands moving on autopilot. She noticed Gabe watching her, his eyes tracking her movements with a quiet, assessing look. It wasn't a flirtatious glance; rather, he seemed to be taking in his surroundings, measuring the house and the mother of the girl he was dating. Still, his intense focus made her slightly self-conscious of her simple tunic and motherly hair.

"The house looks great, Mom," Eva said, taking a glass and leaning against the counter. "Did you redecorate the living room again? I can never keep up with your changes."

"Just a few new pillows," Lois answered, though she could not remember if that was true. Her mind was elsewhere, caught on the way Gabe had not sat down yet, the way he stood near the island with one hand resting on the granite. He looked comfortable here already, like he belonged in this kitchen more than she did.

Roger was still in his study, tied up with a conference call that had started before lunch and showed no signs of ending. Lois had expected as much. He had not even come out to greet their daughter, though she knew he would appear eventually, probably with an apology. She offered Gabe more lemonade, and when she handed him the glass their fingers brushed. The contact was brief, but it made Lois realize how rarely she was touched by anyone these days. She pulled her hand back quickly and turned toward the sink, feeling a sudden, heavy wave of her own domestic isolation.

The conversation moved on, Eva filling the air with stories about her sorority sisters and the parties she had attended. Lois nodded at the right moments, but her attention kept drifting back to Gabe. He did not interrupt. He did not try to insert himself into Eva's stream of words. Instead he listened with a patient, almost weary tolerance, and every now and then his eyes would meet Lois's across the room. Looking at them side by side, Lois felt a growing sense of mismatch. Eva was in many ways still a child, while Gabe seemed like a man who had already lived a lifetime. Their relationship seemed ill-fated, but, then again, most of Eva's relationships were short-lived.

She knew she should focus on her daughter. This was Eva's homecoming, after all, the summer she had been looking forward to for weeks. But the moment Gabe had stepped out of that car, a new, heavy presence had entered the house. The manicured perfection of their lives suddenly felt thin, like a layer of paint that might crack if anyone pressed too hard. Lois poured herself a glass of water and took a slow sip, trying to shake the odd, heavy feeling that this summer was going to be much more complicated than she had anticipated.