Jo
My mother is nothing if not predictable, so I’m on the couch ready for the ten o’clock FaceTime call to begin. At least I was up early enough to do a Walmart run before the call, so I’ve had breakfast and I have a fresh cup of coffee along with my knitting. My iPad screen changes and I swipe and tap to answer. “Hey.”
“There she is!” Mom announces like I’ve been gone for weeks instead of just since Wednesday. She sits back and adjusts her own iPad so I can see Dad, too, and he waves. “Okay, sweetie, first order of business: is Jamie Whittaker just as cute in person?”
I turn to Dad, even though the effect is probably lost over FaceTime. “Are you hearing this?”
He grins and shrugs, a balding man with large glasses and a sharp nose. “The way I figure, the math checks out. What was it, honey? Half your age plus nine?”
Oh God. I’d drop my face into my hands except I’m holding knitting needles.
The problem, though, is how now I have to do that calculations. I mean, I saw all the other guys doing that last night, but if they’ve already got Ricky and Chase, when Ricky and I are practically twins and Chase is also probably in his late forties …
I only do a little more than squeak by when it comes to Jamie. Mom’s actually not that much older than he is.
At some point I’ll probably have to explain that to Jamie, but he hasn’t asked yet.
“So he is cute,” Mom concludes smugly. She has the kind of hair that holds a haircut perfectly, so it’s this ruler-edge just above her shoulders that shifts with her self-satisfied nod.
“And not a serial killer?” Dad asks, at least sixty percent serious.
Women in the twenty-first century don’t go to talk to people connected with serial killer cases without making sure their bases are covered. “I didn’t think he was in the first place.”
“Looks like he could kill you, but he’s really a cinnamon roll?” Mom suggests.
“Mom’s been spending too much time on her iPad again,” Dad tells me in a stage whisper. Then he blinks. “Plus I don’t think any of those photos were a looks like he could kill you type.”
“Is there something between cinnamon roll and looks like he could kill you?” Mom wants to know.
Uh. There must be, even if I can’t think of it right now.
“Blorbo?” she muses.
“That’s not what blorbo means.” God, imagine Mom ever meeting Jamie and telling him he’s my blorbo.
Wait, I’m imagining Mom meeting Jamie?
“Okay so this guy isn’t a serial killer,” Dad concludes, getting us back on track. “What is he?”
“Cute,” Mom reminds him.
He rolls his eyes and grins. “Fine, he’s cute. Kiddo?”
“He has the food truck,” I remind him. “And the Grillennium Falcon.”
Mom clucks her tongue. She’s a Star Trek fan.
“And?” Dad prompts.
“And?” I echo. I mean, it’s only been a few days. “He sucks at Monopoly.” Although not in the same way I have to assume Ricky sucks at Monopoly.
Dad looks at Mom, then back at me. Well, back at the iPad screen. “When are you seeing him again?”
We don’t actually have anything planned. The farmer’s market started at nine, so I figure he had to be there earlier than that, and I have no idea if he’s a morning person or what. “Probably tomorrow.”
“Probably?” Mom actually giggles.
What, am I going to tell her that we’re waiting until his mom leaves the house so we can get together? Sure, it’s to talk about Davis and the theory that sometimes feels like an obvious truth and sometimes feels like some delusion. “We haven’t confirmed it.”
They share another look, and they don’t even need to say Jake’s name. We all know exactly how long it’s been since I’ve gone on a date, and maybe tomorrow isn’t a date, but it’s more than anything I’ve done in a while. Hell, game night was more than anything I’ve done in a while.
Dad takes the pressure off by asking about my research, and Mom wants me to hold up my knitting so she can see how far I’ve gotten since, you know, Wednesday. I was away after college, but I had Jake for most of it. He could let her know if something happened to me. Then I was back, and maybe a bit clingier than usual, and now she doesn’t have me around to be quite as needy.
I’m also her only chick. I’ve been out of the nest for a while now, but the whole divorce situation threw her almost as much as it did me. Dad’s a bit steadier, or maybe just a bit more reserved, but he liked Jake. He didn’t see it coming, either.
It’s only been a few days, so we wrap up pretty quickly, and now I have the rest of my Saturday to contemplate. I don’t want to go to the farmer’s market today, partly because I don’t want to be tempted to spend money and partly because I don’t want to run into Jamie like that. I don’t want him to think I can’t wait until tomorrow to see him.
There are bookstores, but there’s also a library. That’s going to cost me, since this isn’t actually my address, but that’s a one-time fee for the year, so it looks like the library’s my destination. Then I’ll come back here and make lunch with the stuff I already bought. When I get depressed, I’m pretty darn convinced my next purchase is going to be just the thing I need.
I don’t even have to look up the address. It’s across from Jamie’s house. I think the entrance with all the steps, the one on the hilly road, might even be open so I don’t have to walk all the way around. And that’s not just because going to look at Jamie’s house when I can’t see Jamie would be even more desperate.
“Lying to yourself,” I mutter as I stash my knitting and get off the couch. Tsk, tsk, Jo. If I keep that up, I’m going to have to use my middle name.
Chapter Twelve – coming October 12
