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This is so nice. Lord, when Jack told Bitty that his parents wanted to meet him as Jack’s boyfriend and take them to breakfast, he’d expected breakfast burritos at the little cafe near Jack’s apartment, maybe pancakes at the greasy spoon diner Jack says the team sometimes likes to frequent after a late game, not a fancy brunch at one of Providence’s nicest restaurants. But Jack doesn’t do anything by half, and neither do his parents, apparently, and it might just take Bitty some time to realize that this is his life now. That Jack—and by association, Jack’s parents—think he’s important enough to treat to a meal that, when all is said and done, will probably cost as much as Bitty’s books for the current semester.
Once everybody has a mimosa—Bitty wonders if Jack’s parents are aware he’s not yet 21, or if they just don’t care—and their waiter has left them to take a few more minutes to decide on their orders, Alicia turns her attention back to Bitty. “Eric, tell me more about your parents. Jack mentioned your father coaches football at the high school. What does your mother do?”
“Oh, um.” Bitty takes a sip of his drink. Damn, that’s smooth. “She works in an office.”
“Oh, that’s nice. What type of work does she do?” Alicia sets her glass down, the motion drawing Bitty’s attention to the delicate silver bracelet encircling her wrist. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until he feels Jack’s light kick to his ankle under the table.
“Um.” Bitty gives Jack a little tap back. “You know, she manages schedules and set up appointments, that sort of thing,” he says, hoping that’s specific enough to avoid further questions. “She was part-time when I was younger, but she got a promotion and went full-time a few years ago.”
“That’s great,” Bad Bob says. “That hustle Jack says you have must run in the family.”
“Oh, Mama always says we’re small but mighty,” Bitty says, feeling slightly stunned, because what? Jack’s been bragging about Bitty’s “hustle” to his parents? Bitty can feel his cheeks warm up, and he’s not sure if it’s from the champagne or the way Jack’s looking at him, like he’s the brightest thing in the room.
Bitty can tell Alicia is about to ask another question and, worrying that it might be about the specifics of Mama’s job—specifics Bitty is not prepared to talk about right at this moment—he grabs the card with the specials on it and points to the first thing he sees. “The crab cakes sound wonderful! Does anybody want to split an order?”
“You don’t know what your mom does do you?” Jack asks as soon as they’re alone in Jack’s apartment. Jack’s parents stepped out to “walk off that breakfast” and Bitty had been hoping to sneak in a quick makeout session before their return, but Jack clearly has other ideas.
“Of course I know what Mama does!” Bitty sputters, entirely unconvincingly. “I told y’all, she works in an office.”
Jack’s eyes narrow. “What kind of office?”
“A professional office,” Bitty says, crossing his arms over his chest. Really, does it matter what kind of office? Or what she does there?
“Like a doctor’s office? Or a school?”
“Uh …” Bitty tries to remember Mama’s boss’ name, hoping that will jog a memory of a name on a building or something. “A law office? Maybe?”
Jack’s chuckle is half exasperated, half fond. “Bits, how do you not know what your mom does?”
“I know what she does! She supports … I mean, she has a desk and … You know what, when we watch The Office together she always says it’s really realistic!”
“You still haven’t told me what she does. Wait, is she a secret agent or something? Does she work for the CIA?”
”Jack Zimmermann, don’t you think I would know if my mama works for the CIA?”
”I don’t know, it would explain why you don’t seem to know anything about what she does.”
Bitty isn’t sure why everybody says Jack doesn’t have a sense of humor, but he can’t even crack a smile now because otherwise Jack will think he’s won. “Look, mister, not all of us have famous parents everybody just knows everything about. Anyway, what’s the last ad campaign your mama did?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“See, you don’t know either!” Bitty accuses, feeling smug.
“It was for L'Oréal. She sent me a bunch of product when she signed on with them.”
“Huh. That explains why you use old lady shampoo, I guess. Not that I’m calling your mom an old lady!” Bitty adds with a sideways glance at Jack, whose shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter. “It’s a mature brand.”
“You just keep digging a bigger hole for yourself, bud.”
“Fine.” Bitty flumps down on the couch with a little huff. “I don’t know what Mama does at her job. So sue me.”
“Might be able to get a discount on that, if she really does work at a law firm,” Jack observes.
“Oh, you’re so hilarious.”
“Bits.” Jack sits down next to Bitty and pulls him into his side. “You’re always talking about how your mom is your best friend. Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that you don’t know what she does?”
And, okay, when Jack puts it that way it is a little weird. It’s just … never seemed to matter? For most of Bitty’s life, his mom’s primary responsibilities have been taking care of him and being a coach’s wife. Her job always felt more like an afterthought, a thing she did to pay for Bitty’s extra skating lessons and hockey gear, and their every-other-year trips to Disney World. What she did all day just never seemed that important because she rarely talks about it and … huh. Maybe the reason she’s never talked about it is because Bitty has never asked.
If Shitty were here, he’d probably give Bitty some lecture about women’s labor being seen as less worthy than men’s, and in the Bittle family sample of one … Well, it’s not looking good for him, is it?
“Maybe the next time I talk to her I should ask her how work is going,” Bitty concedes.
“That sounds nice,” Jack agrees.
“I could even send her flowers on … well, on whatever day there is to celebrate what she does.”
”That’s the spirit,” Jack says, deadpan. “Oh, stop glaring at me, Bittle. You know, someday we’ll laugh about this.”
”Someday, huh?” Bitty asks.
“Well, yeah. Assuming your mom doesn’t ground you for life.”
”You’re going to chirp me about this forever, aren’t you?”
The small smile Jack gives him makes Bitty’s heart flutter. “That’s the plan.”