Or at least my unrelenting attraction to him could very well mean the end of my perfectly envisioned future and my currently harmonious relationship with my mother. “When will we see your young man again?” Mama inquired on Thursday. “That handsome Grant Jordan?” “Tomorrow afternoon¸” I told her. “Oh, good!” she squealed and actually clapped her hands. “I liked him.” “I know.” “He was so polite when he came to visit. Attractive. Successful. Had good taste. Did you hear what he said about my triopita triangles?” “Yes, Mama. I heard.” “They were ‘delectable,’ he said. And he ate three of them,” she added proudly. “And he still tried the spanakopita and the saganaki and the dolmades—” “Grant has excellent taste,” I reiterated, “and a very hearty appetite.”
