Her smile falters as she inspects me in a new way. “Oh? Is that right? And who might you be?”

“I’m . . . uh . . . her boyfriend?” For some reason it comes out as a question.

“Oh! Yes, of course! Char-char can be so secretive about stuff like that.” She gives me a conspiratorial wink.

Char-char? “I guess?”

She motions for me to come inside. “She should be home soon. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure. Thank you.” When I enter the kitchen, I freeze. The counter is covered in sex toys. More specifically, the kind I typically find in Charlene’s I thought I might like it but I changed my mind trunk. What the hell is going on here? “May I ask how you know Charlene?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so distracted. I haven’t even introduced myself properly. I’m Whensday, Char-char’s mother.” She extends a hand.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were visiting Charlene. It’s nice to meet you.”

I’d tell her mom I’ve heard a lot about her, but the truth is, I haven’t. I know the basics. That she’s a Dominatrix, and has been since Charlene was a teenager. Before that they lived in a rural community, and Charlene’s father wasn’t a good man, so they left. Aside from those details, I know little about Charlene’s family or her early life. Neither of us is particularly keen to talk about our childhoods, so we don’t.

“It’s always nice to meet Char-char’s friends. A mother worries, you know.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I agree even though I wouldn’t know what that’s like. My parents gave zero fucks about me. I’m fairly certain that hasn’t changed in the past decade. And my grandparents, who did raise me, are about as warm as ice.

Charlene’s mom crosses to the counter where a plethora of dildos and other sex toys are laid out on dishtowels. I make a mental note to throw out every dishtowel in the house.

“It’s such a small world, isn’t it? Char-char had quite the adventure meeting your parents this weekend! The resemblance between you and your father is actually rather uncanny. So smart that they went into directing since porn stars have such a short shelf life. No one wants to watch boobs flop around when they’re trying to get off, do they? And don’t get me started on old balls, am I right?”

I’m not sure if she honestly expects me to respond. I’m also suddenly very aware that as fucked up as I might think I am, based on what I’m seeing and hearing, Charlene is just as much a mess. It doesn’t appear that her mother sheltered her in any way from her chosen profession. It makes me want to protect Charlene from all the bad things in this world, myself excluded.

“So how long have you been dating Charlene, exactly?”

I go with vague. “We’ve been together for a while.”

“Really? Hmm. . . Well, enjoy her while you can.”

What the hell does that mean? “I’m sorry?”

“Char-char doesn’t often let people get too close to her. Well, apart from her girlfriends, anyway.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. I contemplate how well I really know Charlene, because there’s some truth in what her mother has said. Charlene has always been the one to pull back in our relationship. I’ve allowed it because I don’t want to risk losing her by pushing her, but we’re two years into this, and I don’t have the sense of security I’d like to.

“It’s been nice visiting her. She has such fun friends. They all enjoyed themselves at the convention. You know, I tried to raise Charlene in a very sex-positive, shame-free lifestyle, at least once it was just the two of us.”

“That’s important.” I’m not sure what else to say to that.

“It really is, but sometimes I think it might have been better for Char-char if she’d had a more normal childhood. She was always so sweet, and smart as a whip! My God, she could recite her times tables up to twelve by the time she was four. It’s no surprise she works with numbers. If I’d had her smarts, maybe I would’ve made better choices.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I’d always thought maybe one day Char-char might want to travel the world with me, but she seems settled and happy here.”

“She is happy, and very much settled.” Her house is homey, her life has a routine and comfort in it, and I’m part of that.

She tips her head. “You play professional hockey, yes?”

“I do.”

“That means you travel often?”

“During the season, yes.”

“Mmm. . .” She says something that sounds like close but not too close. “That must make relationships challenging.”

“I’m in Chicago during the off-season, and Charlene is very independent, as I’m sure you know.” I force a smile, aware that even if she doesn’t have the most conventional job, she’s still a mother making sure her daughter is taken care of. “She also has good friends who are always here when I’m away.”

“Those girls she spends her time with seem like a family,” Whensday observes.

“They’re very much like sisters,” I agree.

“That’s good. She needs that. She was always surrounded by a lot of—”

The door slams before Whensday can finish that thought. “Mom? I’m home!”

Charlene’s voice is the balm I’ve needed since the plane landed, even if her words aren’t directed at me. I’m simultaneously calm and anxious. I wonder if this is how Charlene feels on a regular basis when I return from away games.

She comes to a halt as soon as she sees me. Her eyes dart to Whensday, then to the sex toys in the drying rack before they swing back to me. “What’re you doing here?”

I guess we’re ignoring all the awkward. “I wanted to see you. I thought we should talk.”

She arches a brow. “You could’ve called first.”

Her mom seems to be oblivious to the sudden tension. “Darren and I were talking about professions. We have a lot in common with all the traveling we do, don’t we?” She looks to me for confirmation.

It’s really the only thing we have in common apart from Charlene. “I suppose—”

Charlene directs a withering glare at her mother. “Well, that’s nice. I don’t like living out of a suitcase, so I guess that makes me the odd one out.” She motions to the sex toys in the drying rack, refusing to look my way as her cheeks flush. “Why is this stuff sitting out like this? Can’t you put it away?”

“I couldn’t pack them wet. And honestly, Char-char, it’s not as if Darren hasn’t seen it all before.” Whensday turns her bright smile on me.

How would she know what I’ve seen and what I haven’t? And suddenly it all clicks. Charlene wanting to try new things and then deciding against it. Charlene’s box of I thought I might toys. They were never her idea; I just didn’t realize that until now.

With her mother’s traveling sex shop lying all over the kitchen, I can see exactly how Charlene came to believe this is normal, expected even. Prior to this moment, it hadn’t occurred to that her mother might influence those choices, mainly because I’d believed she and her mom weren’t all that close. This alters my perception of the antics she often pulls, and I have to wonder if she only suggests half the things she does because she’s been brainwashed to believe I won’t want to have sex with her otherwise.

A phone buzzes from somewhere amid the sex toys on the counter, and Whensday moves things around until she finds it. “Oh my! I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to get going!”

Charlene helps transfer the toys into Ziplock bags, which her mom dumps into a small suitcase. I don’t offer my assistance until everything is packed up since this whole situation is uncomfortable enough as it is. I carry the suitcases out to the little RV. Charlene is extra skittish once we’re outside, close to the Winnebago. I might need to push for more information about the whole RV thing considering the way she keeps pulling at the collar of her shirt as I load her mom’s bags. Once I’m finished, I get a hug from her mother and head back inside so they can say their goodbyes.

I pace the kitchen for a minute, then peruse her fridge for something to drink. Charlene has wine, but it’s in a box. I’m not sure I’ve ever consumed wine in such a fashion, but I believe the conversation we’re about to have requires alcohol, so I retrieve two glasses from the cupboard and fill them. Generously.

A minute later Charlene returns. Her back is to me, so she hasn’t noticed me yet.

I don’t say anything as she stands there, facing the door, fingers flexing on the knob, the other hand at her throat. Eventually she turns, working the buttons of her blouse free.

“Shit!” she yells when she sees me standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” I hold out the glass. “Would you like some wine?”

Her lips flatten into a thin line, but she crosses the kitchen and grabs the glass. Some of the wine sloshes over the edge and lands on my foot, soaking my sock. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She tips her head back and chugs the contents. A dribble of wine spills down her chin, and she swipes it away with the back of her hand.