Chapter 27: Meeting Mrs. Rashbaum

I was a wreck. From the moment I woke up in David’s arms, my heart was pounding. Some of it was from my proximity to this wonderful man, but most of it was the running-of-the-family-gauntlet. I know, I know, David came out of my family greetings unscathed (and with my Mom’s number on speed-dial, which still kinda freaks me out). But, I don’t know, this is different. He’s a Somebody. I’m sure in the back of everyone’s mind (the grownups at least) is “is she a fame-seeker or fortune-hunter”. All I can hope is that they see the real me.

So, when we finally headed down to breakfast after a really nice good morning and hot shower, I was jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs (I just love that metaphor). I pushed my eggs around on my plate, making David frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What if they don’t like me?” I whined.

David came around the table and pulled me into his embrace. “No chance of that, my love. They’ll love you because I love you.”

“Even your kids?”

“Even my kids,” he answered.

“Even your ex?”

“Well, she already likes that you made fun of my stage clothes right away,” David said. “I honestly think it will be fine. April is a reasonable woman. If you’re nice to her kids, to our kids, she’ll be nice to you right back.”

I felt marginally better, but wouldn’t fully relax until tonight after dinner. We were running the gamut today; David’s Mom for lunch, and the ex and their kids for dinner. GULP.

We took the Roadrunner to his mother’s house, making me smile. He was right, the car ran like a dream. We pulled up in front a modest house with a nice deep wrap-around porch; my architectural weakness. “Oh!” I said, “The porch! It’s gorgeous!”

David laughed. “Mom likes it, too. See? You’ve got something in common. Told you there’s nothing to worry about.”

“We have two things in common,” I said. “We both love you, too.”

When we parked in front of the house, I grabbed the gift I’d brought, exhaled sharply, and got out of the car. As we walked up the cobblestone walkway and clomped up the wooden stairs, the front door opened and a tiny, beautiful older woman stepped out.

“Welcome!” she said, arms open. “You must be Hathor. David’s told me so much about you!” She embraced me, and just like that, I relaxed.

“Tzohora’im tovim, Mrs. Rashbaum” I said in greeting. Good Afternoon

“Tzohora’im tovim,” David’s mother replied, smiling. “Mah schlomech?” Good Afternoon. How are things?

“Mamash tov; mah nishma?” Really good, how are you? By now, David was looking at me like he had never heard Hebrew before.

I winked at him, and handed the package I was carrying to David’s mother. “Mrs. Rashbaum, I brought you something to thank you for your hospitality.”

She smiled at me. “Dear child, call me Flo or Mom. Please. And you didn’t have to do this, but thank you.” We sat on the Adirondack chairs on the porch, and she unwrapped the bundle. “Hathor, dear, this is beautiful. Thank you.” I had brought her an afghan that I found at a craft fair. It was woven from soft wool, and done in mauve and pink tones. I thought it was very pretty and feminine.

David’s mother looked critically at me and shook her head. “You are quite a surprise,” she said. “Not just the Hebrew, though that is appreciated. But you are just so different from April.”

Her bluntness triggered a little GSA in me, and God help me, I let her out. “I should hope so! After all, he divorced her. Me, I want him to keep, thank you.”

David and his mother burst out laughing. She turned to her son. “This one, I like,” she said. She took my arm and led me into the house. I looked over my shoulder at David, who blew me a kiss. David’s mother took me on a tour of the house, showing me photos of David and his sister Michelle that were prominently placed around the various rooms. The wall of the staircase leading up to the second floor was one big brag wall for her children. I loved seeing the pictures of David growing up, and looked forward to the photo albums that I know she had in reserve somewhere.

We had a lovely lunch, and a wonderful chat. We talked about what I do for a living, how I met David, my passion for football, and my family. Flo told me stories about David and Michelle growing up, and about David and the guys when they were young kids breaking onto the scene.

“How I would have loved to have known them back then,” I mused. “ But, alas, I was but a mere high schooler in the 80’s and it would have hardly been appropriate for me to hang out with them.” After lunch, Flo brought out the photo albums, and I was treated to the life and times of David Bryan. I sat sandwiched between Flo and David, and as we flipped through the books, David held my hand or kissed my cheek or otherwise was touching me all the time. It was a fantastic afternoon, and by the time it was time to go, I was a little sad. I really liked this woman.

“It was so wonderful meeting you,” I said to her, as we embraced. “I’m so glad David brought me home to meet you.”

“I, too, am glad to have met you.” She kissed my cheek as David descended to the car. “You are doing wonders for him,” she said softly to me. “Please don’t break his heart.”

I looked into soft blue eyes and promised.