Well Played, стр. 16
“Here you go,” she said. “For the milk.”
“Are you kidding?” I shook my head. “Okay, first of all, milk does not cost twenty dollars. Second, I just mooched dinner off you. I think we can call it even.”
“Just take it, will you? I know you’re trying to save your money, Stacey. You’re still paying student loans, not to mention rent and your car . . .”
“My car is paid off, and you hardly charge any rent at all.” And I’d insisted on paying rent in the first place, back when I’d made the decision to stay. Back when Mom’s mobility had been limited and Dad had looked lost: Mom was his compass, and he didn’t know how he’d get by without her. The rent was a pittance, but it made me feel a little less like I still lived with my parents.
The microwave beeped, and Mom popped open the door. “Grab the bowl for me, will you?”
I didn’t have to ask which one; the popcorn bowl lived on top of the fridge. I stretched onto my toes and fished it down, handing it to her. Mom smiled at me, and I had to admit that she really did look okay. I was worrying too much. But every time I looked at her, I couldn’t help but remember how she’d looked in the hospital: small and pale, hooked up to machines that beeped and kept her alive. Every time I wondered what I’d been thinking, sticking around for so long, I’d think of her so tiny in that hospital bed, and no, I didn’t regret staying home. Even if it really did mean I’d blown my chance to get out of this town and start a life of my own.
“I meant to ask,” Mom said. “Did you give your friend those lists?”
“I did, and she said thanks. She’s already getting a big head start on this wedding.” That was an understatement, and I rolled my eyes, my patented grin back on my face.
Mom clucked her tongue at me. “It’s a lot to plan, Stacey. You’ll see someday.”
Yeah, maybe if marrying my cat became legal one of these days. But out loud I said, “I’m sure you’re right. No pressure, though, right, Mom?”
“No, honey. No pressure. You’ll find the right guy when it’s the right time.” A slightly awkward silence followed, because honestly, when would the right time be? Ever since I’d made the decision to stay home, my parents had lived by the mantra of “take your time.” It was nice that they liked me being around and were in no hurry for me to strike out on my own. But every once in a while, I wondered if taking my time should be taking this long.
Finally, Mom cleared her throat and held up the bowl of popcorn. “Want to watch a movie before bed?”
I did. I really did, but I shook my head. “I joined this book club, and I need to read this before next Thursday.” I pulled the Depressing World War II Book out of my bag and waved it at her.
She took it from my hand and frowned at the cover. “Hmm.” She flipped it over and read the back before handing it back to me. “You need to be in a better book club. That looks depressing.”
“You’re not wrong.” I sighed. “Emily said she’s picking out more fun books for the store’s book club. Maybe I should just join that one instead.”
Mom shrugged. “You could do both, you know. But let me know if you do the fun one. I’d be up for that.”
“You got it.” I looked at the book once more, then at the bowl of popcorn Mom still held. I tossed the book to the table. “Screw it. Let’s watch a movie.” Who needed a life, when you could spend your evenings watching rom-coms with your mother?
Oh, God, I needed a life.
After the movie I left through the kitchen on my way to the garage and the stairs to my apartment, stopping to grab my laptop and my backpack from where I’d left them on the table. Upstairs and in bed, I opened my laptop and Mom’s twenty-dollar bill fluttered out from inside it.
“Dammit, Mom.” I sighed. But I folded the bill and stuck it under my phone. I started to reread the email I’d composed at my parents’ kitchen table, but it made my skin prickle. Should I be telling him all this? In my experience, people didn’t want to hear this kind of stuff. They wanted Fun Stacey. The cheerleader, the one who commented with heart-eyes emojis on the pics of your children, the one who was eager to help pick out bridesmaid dresses. These days I was more comfortable sharing a duet on karaoke night at Jackson’s than sharing my innermost thoughts. And I was really bad at karaoke.
But he’d asked, hadn’t he? I hit Send before I could change my mind. Maybe I was sharing too much information and he wouldn’t like this Stacey. But there was only one way to find out.
• • •
Turned out Dex was a TMI kind of guy.
I got ready for bed, and as I went to move my laptop, the screen sprang to life, and there was an email waiting for me.
To: Stacey Lindholm
From: Dex MacLean
Date: September 4, 9:52 p.m.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: My Real Name
I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through with your mom, but for what it’s worth, I would have done the same thing. I mean, you’re talking to a guy who travels with family year-round. Family’s important, and when the chips are down there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for mine. Sounds like you’re