the need to clarify. “We didn’t break up,” I say.
“Yeah, all right,” Charlie says. “Just listen. You gotta tell Mom before the party. She’s gonna wonder where Ryan is, and it’s gonna be all weird, and anyway, I wanted to give you the heads-up. I mean, you’ve got three weeks to do it. So that gives you some time.”
“Right,” I say. “Well, hey, that’s exciting that you’re coming home.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It will be nice to see you guys.” It’s quiet for a moment before he adds, “Also, Lauren, I get that you have Rachel and everything, but . . . you have me, too. I’m here for you, too. I love you, you know.”
The fact that my brother can be such a dick is part of the reason he’s able to make you feel so much better. When he says he loves you, he means it. When he says he’ll always be there for you, he means it.
“Thanks,” I say to him. “Thank you. I’ll be OK.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re gonna be fine,” he says, and it feels better than all the other times I’ve heard it.
We get off the phone, and I get back into bed. I turn off the light and grab a hold of Thumper and start to doze off, but my phone rings again. I know who it is before I even look at the screen.
“Hey, Rach,” I say.
“Mom is throwing you a surprise party,” she says. Her voice is not just laced with schadenfreude, it is made of it. Schadenfreude is all there is.
“I know,” I say. “I just talked to Charlie.”
“She’s flying Charlie home so he can be there.”
“I know,” I say. “I just talked to him.”
“She’s flying Grandma Lois out, too. And Uncle Fletcher.”
“Now, that I didn’t know.”
“Apparently, she wants everyone to meet her new boyfriend.”
“She has a new boyfriend?”
“Do you even call Mom anymore?”
Admittedly, I have not spoken to my mom in weeks. She lives thirty minutes away, but it’s very easy to avoid talking to someone if you never answer the phone.
“His name is Bill. He’s apparently a mechanic.”
“Is he her mechanic?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel says. “Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just can’t see Mom, like, picking up her mechanic.”
“She says he’s hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah, she says he’s hot.”
“This is all very weird.”
“Oh, it’s totally, amazingly, delightfully weird.”
“I’m going to bed,” I say. “I need to let my dreams sort out all of this.”
“OK,” Rachel says. “But you gotta tell Mom you’re separated, right? I mean, you have to before the party. Otherwise, this is going to be a disaster.”
“When was the last time Mom threw a party?” I ask Rachel.
“I have no idea. It was definitely the early nineties, though.”
“Precisely. So this is going to be a disaster no matter what I do.”
“Do you think she’ll have a punch bowl?”
“What?”
“Isn’t it just like Mom to have punch bowl?”
And for some reason, this is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. My mother will totally have a punch bowl.
“OK, I’m really going to sleep this time.”
“Streamers. I bet you there will be streamers.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“You want over/under on streamers?”
“I don’t think that makes sense. You have to have numbers in order for the over/under thing to work.”
“Oh, right. OK, five bucks says there are streamers.”
“I’m going to bed,” I remind her one last time.
“Yeah, fine. I’m just saying . . . five bucks says there are streamers. Are you in or out?”
“What is the matter with you?”
“In or out?”
“In,” I say. “I’m in. Good night.”
“Good night!” Rachel finally says, and gets off the phone. I lay my head down and smell Thumper. He smells awful. Dogs smell so awful, and yet smelling Thumper is wonderful. He smells heavenly to me. I close my eyes, and I drift off to sleep, where my brain tries to make sense of all this news. I dream that I get to my birthday party
“Yeah, all right,” Charlie says. “Just listen. You gotta tell Mom before the party. She’s gonna wonder where Ryan is, and it’s gonna be all weird, and anyway, I wanted to give you the heads-up. I mean, you’ve got three weeks to do it. So that gives you some time.”
“Right,” I say. “Well, hey, that’s exciting that you’re coming home.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It will be nice to see you guys.” It’s quiet for a moment before he adds, “Also, Lauren, I get that you have Rachel and everything, but . . . you have me, too. I’m here for you, too. I love you, you know.”
The fact that my brother can be such a dick is part of the reason he’s able to make you feel so much better. When he says he loves you, he means it. When he says he’ll always be there for you, he means it.
“Thanks,” I say to him. “Thank you. I’ll be OK.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re gonna be fine,” he says, and it feels better than all the other times I’ve heard it.
We get off the phone, and I get back into bed. I turn off the light and grab a hold of Thumper and start to doze off, but my phone rings again. I know who it is before I even look at the screen.
“Hey, Rach,” I say.
“Mom is throwing you a surprise party,” she says. Her voice is not just laced with schadenfreude, it is made of it. Schadenfreude is all there is.
“I know,” I say. “I just talked to Charlie.”
“She’s flying Charlie home so he can be there.”
“I know,” I say. “I just talked to him.”
“She’s flying Grandma Lois out, too. And Uncle Fletcher.”
“Now, that I didn’t know.”
“Apparently, she wants everyone to meet her new boyfriend.”
“She has a new boyfriend?”
“Do you even call Mom anymore?”
Admittedly, I have not spoken to my mom in weeks. She lives thirty minutes away, but it’s very easy to avoid talking to someone if you never answer the phone.
“His name is Bill. He’s apparently a mechanic.”
“Is he her mechanic?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel says. “Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just can’t see Mom, like, picking up her mechanic.”
“She says he’s hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah, she says he’s hot.”
“This is all very weird.”
“Oh, it’s totally, amazingly, delightfully weird.”
“I’m going to bed,” I say. “I need to let my dreams sort out all of this.”
“OK,” Rachel says. “But you gotta tell Mom you’re separated, right? I mean, you have to before the party. Otherwise, this is going to be a disaster.”
“When was the last time Mom threw a party?” I ask Rachel.
“I have no idea. It was definitely the early nineties, though.”
“Precisely. So this is going to be a disaster no matter what I do.”
“Do you think she’ll have a punch bowl?”
“What?”
“Isn’t it just like Mom to have punch bowl?”
And for some reason, this is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day. My mother will totally have a punch bowl.
“OK, I’m really going to sleep this time.”
“Streamers. I bet you there will be streamers.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“You want over/under on streamers?”
“I don’t think that makes sense. You have to have numbers in order for the over/under thing to work.”
“Oh, right. OK, five bucks says there are streamers.”
“I’m going to bed,” I remind her one last time.
“Yeah, fine. I’m just saying . . . five bucks says there are streamers. Are you in or out?”
“What is the matter with you?”
“In or out?”
“In,” I say. “I’m in. Good night.”
“Good night!” Rachel finally says, and gets off the phone. I lay my head down and smell Thumper. He smells awful. Dogs smell so awful, and yet smelling Thumper is wonderful. He smells heavenly to me. I close my eyes, and I drift off to sleep, where my brain tries to make sense of all this news. I dream that I get to my birthday party
Similar Books
