blue eyes appearing gray in the low lighting of the room. “Do I really have to eat this?”
I nod sternly. “Yeah. All of it, too.”
He sticks out his tongue, but takes a bite anyway. I leave him to it and spend the next few hours cleaning, because it keeps my thoughts focused on eliminating mildew in the shower and crumbs on the carpet, and I even get a few loads of laundry done. I’m folding up the clothes in my bedroom, making stacks on the bed, when my phone starts ringing again. After the call I got from Delilah’s mom, I’m hesitant to answer it, since I’m not sure I want to deal with any more drama for the night.
But it’s Quinton and that’s definitely a call I don’t want to miss. “Hey,” I say, positioning the phone between my cheek and my shoulder so I can continue to fold the clothes and put them into orderly piles on my bed. “I’m glad you called.”
“I said I would.” He sounds okay, which gives me a strange sense of peace inside. “I would never stand you up on one of our phone dates.”
“Yeah, but we texted so long on the phone, I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of you,” he says. “In fact, I think we made it pretty clear how not sick of you I was. How I-want-to-touch-you-so-badly-I-can’t-stand-it not sick of you I am.” There’s an extended pause. “Jesus, that sounded cheesy, didn’t it?” he says, sounding disappointed in himself.
“A little.” I smile, but it’s almost agonizing as I think about Delilah and where she is. “But I liked it. It makes me feel like I’m getting to know the real you.”
He chuckles. “You know what? I can kind of remember being cheesy at one point in my life.”
His happiness makes my sadness vanish. “I’m so glad you called tonight.” I put a pair of boxer shorts on top of the pajama stack on my bed.
“Why? Is something wrong?” he asks worriedly. “You seemed okay earlier when we were texting, but you sound a little sad now.”
I pause with the folding, regretting that I even brought it up. The last thing he needs is to hear any of my problems when he’s got so much on his plate. “No, I’m fine. Nothing major’s going on. Just school stuff.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I feel bad for lying to him, but at the same time I know it’s the best thing. “Let’s talk about something happy.”
“I’m probably the wrong person for that,” he says with honesty, his mood deflating. “You might want to try Tristan or Lea.”
“Tristan’s pretty sick right now, so he’s not feeling that happy either.” I put a folded-up shirt on top of the pile. “Besides, hearing your laugh is already making me feel better.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who made me happy enough to laugh. I was a little bummed out before I called.”
“How come?” I pick up two socks and pair them, adding them to the pile of socks.
“I don’t want to gripe about my problems when you’re having a bad day,” he says.
“Please, tell me,” I beg, going over to my closet and getting a few hangers out. “In fact, it’ll make me feel better to listen.”
“You’re too easy to please, but if that’s what you want, then…” He sighs heavyheartedly. “It’s nothing major, but remember earlier how we were talking about moving? Well, I was sort of hoping my dad would change his mind, but when he got home tonight he told me that he listed the house with a Realtor, and he had boxes for us to pack our stuff in. And I think he might be excited about it or something.”
“Did you ever tell him that you definitely didn’t want to go with him?” I collect a stack of jeans in my arms and turn for the dresser.
“Sort of… I mean, I said I’d think about it, but I know I won’t move,” he says gloomily. “And I don’t want him to sell the house… it’s the only real thing I have left of my mother.”
I stop in front of the dresser, wanting to cry for him. It
I nod sternly. “Yeah. All of it, too.”
He sticks out his tongue, but takes a bite anyway. I leave him to it and spend the next few hours cleaning, because it keeps my thoughts focused on eliminating mildew in the shower and crumbs on the carpet, and I even get a few loads of laundry done. I’m folding up the clothes in my bedroom, making stacks on the bed, when my phone starts ringing again. After the call I got from Delilah’s mom, I’m hesitant to answer it, since I’m not sure I want to deal with any more drama for the night.
But it’s Quinton and that’s definitely a call I don’t want to miss. “Hey,” I say, positioning the phone between my cheek and my shoulder so I can continue to fold the clothes and put them into orderly piles on my bed. “I’m glad you called.”
“I said I would.” He sounds okay, which gives me a strange sense of peace inside. “I would never stand you up on one of our phone dates.”
“Yeah, but we texted so long on the phone, I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of you,” he says. “In fact, I think we made it pretty clear how not sick of you I was. How I-want-to-touch-you-so-badly-I-can’t-stand-it not sick of you I am.” There’s an extended pause. “Jesus, that sounded cheesy, didn’t it?” he says, sounding disappointed in himself.
“A little.” I smile, but it’s almost agonizing as I think about Delilah and where she is. “But I liked it. It makes me feel like I’m getting to know the real you.”
He chuckles. “You know what? I can kind of remember being cheesy at one point in my life.”
His happiness makes my sadness vanish. “I’m so glad you called tonight.” I put a pair of boxer shorts on top of the pajama stack on my bed.
“Why? Is something wrong?” he asks worriedly. “You seemed okay earlier when we were texting, but you sound a little sad now.”
I pause with the folding, regretting that I even brought it up. The last thing he needs is to hear any of my problems when he’s got so much on his plate. “No, I’m fine. Nothing major’s going on. Just school stuff.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I feel bad for lying to him, but at the same time I know it’s the best thing. “Let’s talk about something happy.”
“I’m probably the wrong person for that,” he says with honesty, his mood deflating. “You might want to try Tristan or Lea.”
“Tristan’s pretty sick right now, so he’s not feeling that happy either.” I put a folded-up shirt on top of the pile. “Besides, hearing your laugh is already making me feel better.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who made me happy enough to laugh. I was a little bummed out before I called.”
“How come?” I pick up two socks and pair them, adding them to the pile of socks.
“I don’t want to gripe about my problems when you’re having a bad day,” he says.
“Please, tell me,” I beg, going over to my closet and getting a few hangers out. “In fact, it’ll make me feel better to listen.”
“You’re too easy to please, but if that’s what you want, then…” He sighs heavyheartedly. “It’s nothing major, but remember earlier how we were talking about moving? Well, I was sort of hoping my dad would change his mind, but when he got home tonight he told me that he listed the house with a Realtor, and he had boxes for us to pack our stuff in. And I think he might be excited about it or something.”
“Did you ever tell him that you definitely didn’t want to go with him?” I collect a stack of jeans in my arms and turn for the dresser.
“Sort of… I mean, I said I’d think about it, but I know I won’t move,” he says gloomily. “And I don’t want him to sell the house… it’s the only real thing I have left of my mother.”
I stop in front of the dresser, wanting to cry for him. It
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