I almost choked on my pizza. Mom slapped me hard on the back.

“Drink some water, Emily.”

A minute later, after I could breathe normally again, I attempted to answer her question. “No, I never heard from him – from Sebastian – again.”

She silently placed a sympathetic hand over mine. I’d told her everything as soon as I came back from Paris and even spent a few nights in her apartment, where she accepted me with open arms (and plenty of Kleenex and ice cream).

“Why do men have to be such assholes, huh?”

I laughed. “I don’t know, mom. That’s a mystery.”

~

The next morning, I took care with my outfit. I wanted to dress to impress. This was my first serious interview for a professional job.

Mom adjusted my collar and smoothed down my hair.

“Go knock ‘em dead, Em.”

I croaked out, “Thanks, mom.”

The interview took place without a hitch. My jitters disappeared as soon as I started talking about my love of literature. The lady interviewing me was friendly and seemed impressed with my curriculum vitae.