THE DATING GAME

My mother glided out of the house wearing a red beehive wig and a black dress I’d never seen before. It was as if she was sauntering down a catwalk. The hem of the dress rode above her knees. “Good morning, Andy,” she said.
“Hello, Mary. You sure look great as a redhead.”
She sashayed into the carport, her silver sandals clicking on the cement floor. “Did you bring any lunch?” she asked him.
“No. I’ll be okay. I don’t need to eat.”
I wandered over to the carport. “I’ll be driving to Jolly Roger around noon,” I announced. “I can get Andy a cheeseburger or something.”
“Yes,” my mother said. “It will be my treat.”