"Mom, for the last time, I am not interested in dating right now." I sigh, cradling my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I scoop my son's dark blonde hair into a ponytail to keep it from getting into his eyes.
"He's a widow with a daughter, sweetie. He could understand what you are going through." Mom continues as if she didn't hear me, giving me unnecessary details on the forty-something year old that happens to also attend her church.
I roll my eyes, although she can't see me. It was highly unlikely that this prematurely balding man knew anything about what I went through on a daily basis.
It didn't matter if I responded to her, anyways. My mom would continue her attempt in selling this guy to me. Even if I was remotely interested, I would still say no. She had given him my social media information last week and when I had politely turned him down in the private message he sent me, he then tattled to my mother. Something about that left a sour taste in my mouth and acid reflux in my chest.
"Just give him a chance, Wren, he is a really nice man." She says, the sound of wind making me strain to hear her.
She must be walking again.
My mom just got a car again after ten years of not driving due to medical reasons. (She crashed her past vehicles enough times that her doctor had told her to take an extended break before renewing her license). However, even with a new license and a shiny car key, she still chooses to walk miles to her nearest Mickey D's.
My son is on his tablet at the sink as I come stray hairs behind his ears, ensuring he looks groomed and orderly for his morning therapy. A cow appears on the screen, in some game he's playing.
"Moo." He says to himself, his way of identifying the cow.
I smile down at him. Therapy has been showing a lot of results lately.
"Wren?" my mom asks, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into the mostly one-sided conversation.
I swallow a groan. "Mom," I respond, patiently, as if she's one of my students arguing with me. "I do not want to date what's-his-face, okay? I'm really focused on Nix's new routine and adjusting to working at home. I don't have time to date, and I really am not attracted to this guy."
"His name is Chris but okay, I'll keep looking." Great, more future randoms blowing up my phone. For once, I wish my protests would deter her from her 'fun' game of matchmaking me and my sister to some randos she finds at church or at the grocery store. Once, she ven gave a teenage boy my number.
"He looked like he was your age, sweetie." She had replied, dismissing my incredulity over her mistake.
I stare over my son's head in the mirror. It's not that I don't want to date. I've been single for nearly six years now, come October. I'm not quite ready to move on like that, yet. I eye my shoulder-length blonde hair and turquoise eyes. I'm not ugly. But I am realistic, I'll never look like one of those gorgeous models gracing magazines that are carefully tucked under many an adult man's beds.
I'm always teetering on the edge of my goal weight, and my teeth are in bad need for a dentist visit and a whitening.
But beyond that, I know I'll be perfect for the right person. Just like that person will also be perfect for me. I don't want to date religious Chris from my mom's ward or any other guy she decides are my Prince Charming. Since the event that no one was expecting, she's been trying to find me a new husband. Being a single mom, in her early thirties, is the ultimate taboo to my mother, I swear.
Although, my sister has no kids and is still in her twenties so I'm not sure what my mother's reasoning is there.
No matter how many times I put a stop to her desire to marry me off a second time, she still won't understand the biggest truth: I never imagined my future being on my own, raising a disabled son. I had plans. I was married to someone I thought was my best friend and soul mate. We were going to have a big family and live happily ever after. That, obviously, ended up being a huge lie.
Now that I'm on my own, I plan on dedicating my focus on my son's health and well-being. Settling on some stranger my mom finds for me is not part of that.
But I can't do anything else, can't say anything else.
"Well, Nix and I need to rush out now, mom. I love you." I say, in need of ending the phone call.
My mom says goodbye, adding an "I love you, too", already distracted in her social media stalking of whoever she has planned to throw my way next.
I tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts, allowing Phoenix to run off back to the room we share.