Chapter 10: He wants her to meet his mother. I wonder what kind of messed up relationship one would have to have with one’s offspring to create the kind of guy Christian Grey seems to be. He’s introducing his sex toy to his mother. And she has “sexy”—her words—ligature marks on her wrists. She’s reasonably freaked out and doesn’t have any clean clothes, so she suggests that she should stay in the bedroom. He’s prepared to drag her out of the bedroom no matter what she’s wearing. Ana realizes in a shining moment of clarity that it would be interesting to meet the woman who has made Christian the way he is.
She doesn’t want to borrow his clothes because her subconscious thinks it would make her a “ho” but she’s perfectly willing to borrow a pair of his underwear. OK, then.
Christian’s mother is “groomed, elegant, [and] beautiful” but besides the fact that she has sandy hair and a “full megawatt smile” we get little more description than that, but her outfit is described in full. It seems the Grey family is afflicted with nondescript beauty and terrific fashion sense.
She introduces herself to Ana as Grace Trevelyan-Grey, and Ana calls her Dr. Trevelyan-Grey. Wait, Christian’s mother is a doctor? Ana must certainly know something that either has not been mentioned before, or was mentioned before and I can’t remember because I was too busy making cocktails.
Ana’s cell phone rings, and she answers it right there, in the middle of a face-to-face conversation. It’s José, wanting to know where she is and what she’s doing—oh, and he also wants to apologize for sexually assaulting her on Friday.
Mrs. Grey leaves, and Christian seems irritated that José called. Or maybe he’s irritated that Ana answered her phone in the middle of a conversation with his mother. Either way, he’s pissy again and Ana doesn’t really know why.
He gives her a manila envelope with a copy of the contract in full and tells her to read it carefully and do research. She’s confused. “Research?” she asks. Yes Ana, research. Certainly you must be familiar with the term, seeing as you’re about to graduate from college.
He says, “You’ll be amazed what you can find on the Internet.” Because as we all know, the internet is for… research.
Ana throws another monkey wrench in the works when she admits that she doesn’t have her own computer; she always uses Kate’s or the school computers. Naturally, Christian is not too eager for her to be doing research on S&M on public computers or her roommate’s laptop, so he tells her that she can borrow one from him.
Christian and Ana prepare to fly back to Portland, and Christian’s assistant gives Ana what she determines to be a pitying look. Well kid, he’s probably seen this act several times before. Same lyrics, new tune, that sort of thing.
Ana wonders how she’s going to be able to answer all the questions she has about sex, since she finally realizes that Christian’s temperament doesn’t make for easy approachability.
He tells her he can’t wait until she’s signed her life away so that she’ll stop defying him. What is he talking about? She’s one of the most naturally passive people anyone’s ever likely to meet. I’d like to know his definition of “defy” and also, what the hell, dude? How wildly controlling are you?
He’s all happy-go-lucky when they get in the car and drive off, then he asks her if she’s hungry and she says, “Not particularly.” Aaaaand we’re back to angry again.
They arrive at a small restaurant to eat where the waitress makes eyes at Christian. Ana is stunned to realize that she isn’t the only woman in the world who finds this guy attractive.
He tells Ana that he’s never had sex in his bed, never flown a girl around in the helicopter, and never introduced a woman to his mother. So basically, he’s never had a close personal relationship with a woman he’s not related to. Then he explains how he was introduced to S&M at age 15 by one of his mother’s friends. He was her submissive for 6 years. He never had a proper girlfriend because this other woman was all he wanted or needed. “And besides,” he says, “she’d have beaten the shit out of me.” And he smiles. Fondly.
That explains it, then. He had a screwy introduction to sex by a creepy older woman who took advantage of her friend’s young, impressionable son during all of his years of formative sexual development.
Ana loses her appetite after hearing his story—she’s always losing her appetite around this guy. She should probably fix that since he gets angry at her when she doesn’t eat. Is he sure he doesn’t get off on being a feeder?
But seriously, she never eats. In the course of 10 chapters, she’s never wanted to eat everything on her plate in Christian’s presence. She has finished her food for him, but she’s never done so without prompting. He makes her that nervous.
She’s squirming in her seat waiting for him to finish eating. Since when does an adult woman squirm in her seat like a child waiting for her dining companion to finish his meal?
He drops her off at her apartment and she feels “suddenly bereft.” Why? He’s not leaving forever; she’s going to see him again on Wednesday, for crying out loud. He’s controlling and she’s super clingy. What a pair.
Ana’s life is filled with people who have unpredictable mood changes. Kate has pretty mutable moods, too. When Ana walks in the door, she’s super concerned, looking her over minutely, but then she pulls Ana to the couch and wants to know all about how her first time was, and telling her how her weekend with Christian’s brother was.
Ana’s smitten with Christian and Kate’s smitten with Elliot. Perfect double play, guys.
José calls again, and Ana forgives him. What’s a little sexual assault between friends?
They’re supposed to be packing up their apartment to move to Seattle, and somehow Ana’s idea of fixing up a little dinner is making lasagna. How on earth does lasagna constitute a simple meal to make while in the process of moving houses?
Then Ana has a 3-way conversation with herself, her subconscious, and her inner goddess about whether they want to continue having a relationship with Christian. They conclude that it can’t possibly be just the sex, although what convinces all of them that they want to stay in the memory of “the incredible, sensual sexuality” that she experienced.
The chapter ends with her opening the manila envelope to read the contract. Hey! At least she’s reading this one before she signs it.
Time for drinks, I think.
Basic Daiquiri
1-1/2 oz. light rum
1 oz. fresh lime juice
1 tsp. sugar
Shake well with cracked ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a slice of lime or maraschino cherry (or nothing, if you’re cheap like me). It would be sacrilegious to use Rose’s lime juice in this drink.
- The basic daiquiri: basic.
Kamikaze
1-1/2 oz. vodka
1 oz. triple sec
1 oz. fresh lime juice
Squeeze lime juice into a cocktail shaker. Add other ingredients, and shake with cracked ice. Strain into a chilled shot glass or cocktail glass.
- Not bad. I’d crash my plane for it.
Well, that was fun. I just recalculated the number of cocktails needed per chapter and realized that it’s 2 per chapter instead of 3, much to my joy. Hence the beverage redistribution.
Land of Midnight Baking 