said, feeling nervous and giddy all at once. "I'm sorry, are you - is this you offering me a job?"
"Sure," he said. "If you want it."
"I - yes. Of course."
I shook his hand again.
"There," he said. "That wasn't so terrible, was it? And now you've got the story of your first interview to tell forever . You'll never pay for drinks in your life."
"I don't know," I said, smiling. "It's a pretty good story, but it's probably only good for a bag of pretzels."
***
My mom was sitting in the kitchen, alone, when I came back. She was thumbing through a magazine, feigning interest, but I knew she was waiting for me.
"How'd it go?" she asked, before I even had a chance to grab a soda from the fridge.
"Good," I said. "He offered me a job. I start next week." I sat down at the table, fiddling with the label on my soda bottle.
"Well," my mom said. "I hope it works out for you, honey."
I shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
"So," she said, closing the magazine. "Lily seemed pretty excited to talk to you today."
I took a moment to process this. I'd expected a cross-examination about my new job. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."
"She seems like a nice girl." My mom sipped some tea from her mug. "What do you think of her?"
"Yeah, she seems nice," I echoed.
"Well. I think you should certainly give her a call. Or a text."
"Okay," I said, perplexed. "I'm going to."
"Just don't let your job interfere with your social life, okay? Make sure you don't forget to get in touch with her."
"Okay, okay." I chuckled. "What are you making this into such a big deal?"
She shook her head in protest. "I'm not trying to! I just think she's a nice girl, and I worry about you working too hard and forgetting to enjoy yourself. That's all."
"I don't think that's a huge risk, to be honest." I grinned, getting up from the table. "I promise I'll give her a call."
***
In the end, I decided to take the simple approach with Lily.
I sent a single text:
Hey, what's up?
A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was her number, of course.
"Hey," I said, trapping the phone between my cheek and shoulder.
"Hi," she said. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind me calling. I kind of hate texting, you know? I'm so slow. Everybody makes fun of me." She giggled.
"Well, you know, practice makes perfect." I picked at a thread on my bedspread. "But no, it's fine. You can call me anytime you like."
She giggled again. "Well, that's good to know. I've just been thinking lately, I can't figure out why we don't spend more time together. You've always made me laugh, you know. You're a cool guy."
"Thanks," I said.
Okay, so I was flattered. As out-of-the-blue as this seemed to be, it was nice to know that someone was taking...well, some sort of an interest in me. We chatted for a while about nothing in particular, with her doing most of the talking - she loved to share her opinions, but didn't seem particularly interested in any of mine. But that was fine. I was happy to just listen.
She congratulated me on getting a job, and promised to come visit, though her parents "didn't like shopping at that kind of store." I wasn't going to ask, but she expounded on it anyway, telling me about how her dad didn't believe in supporting stores run by "predatory unions" or buying products made in China. After about five minutes I felt like I should be apologizing for working there, but finally she changed the subject to her college search.
I never minded hearing about Brandon's, but for some reason, hers in particular served as a harsh reminder of my lack of options in that department. She had a "short list" of options, all of which cost more for a year's tuition than my parents' house. She started running down the list of options and drawbacks for each one, not even pausing long enough for an "oh really?" or an "I see."
Finally, she paused long enough to take a breath. "I hope I'm not keeping you too long."
"Oh, no," I heard myself reply. "I've got unlimited minutes."
"Good!" she
"Sure," he said. "If you want it."
"I - yes. Of course."
I shook his hand again.
"There," he said. "That wasn't so terrible, was it? And now you've got the story of your first interview to tell forever . You'll never pay for drinks in your life."
"I don't know," I said, smiling. "It's a pretty good story, but it's probably only good for a bag of pretzels."
***
My mom was sitting in the kitchen, alone, when I came back. She was thumbing through a magazine, feigning interest, but I knew she was waiting for me.
"How'd it go?" she asked, before I even had a chance to grab a soda from the fridge.
"Good," I said. "He offered me a job. I start next week." I sat down at the table, fiddling with the label on my soda bottle.
"Well," my mom said. "I hope it works out for you, honey."
I shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
"So," she said, closing the magazine. "Lily seemed pretty excited to talk to you today."
I took a moment to process this. I'd expected a cross-examination about my new job. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."
"She seems like a nice girl." My mom sipped some tea from her mug. "What do you think of her?"
"Yeah, she seems nice," I echoed.
"Well. I think you should certainly give her a call. Or a text."
"Okay," I said, perplexed. "I'm going to."
"Just don't let your job interfere with your social life, okay? Make sure you don't forget to get in touch with her."
"Okay, okay." I chuckled. "What are you making this into such a big deal?"
She shook her head in protest. "I'm not trying to! I just think she's a nice girl, and I worry about you working too hard and forgetting to enjoy yourself. That's all."
"I don't think that's a huge risk, to be honest." I grinned, getting up from the table. "I promise I'll give her a call."
***
In the end, I decided to take the simple approach with Lily.
I sent a single text:
Hey, what's up?
A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was her number, of course.
"Hey," I said, trapping the phone between my cheek and shoulder.
"Hi," she said. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind me calling. I kind of hate texting, you know? I'm so slow. Everybody makes fun of me." She giggled.
"Well, you know, practice makes perfect." I picked at a thread on my bedspread. "But no, it's fine. You can call me anytime you like."
She giggled again. "Well, that's good to know. I've just been thinking lately, I can't figure out why we don't spend more time together. You've always made me laugh, you know. You're a cool guy."
"Thanks," I said.
Okay, so I was flattered. As out-of-the-blue as this seemed to be, it was nice to know that someone was taking...well, some sort of an interest in me. We chatted for a while about nothing in particular, with her doing most of the talking - she loved to share her opinions, but didn't seem particularly interested in any of mine. But that was fine. I was happy to just listen.
She congratulated me on getting a job, and promised to come visit, though her parents "didn't like shopping at that kind of store." I wasn't going to ask, but she expounded on it anyway, telling me about how her dad didn't believe in supporting stores run by "predatory unions" or buying products made in China. After about five minutes I felt like I should be apologizing for working there, but finally she changed the subject to her college search.
I never minded hearing about Brandon's, but for some reason, hers in particular served as a harsh reminder of my lack of options in that department. She had a "short list" of options, all of which cost more for a year's tuition than my parents' house. She started running down the list of options and drawbacks for each one, not even pausing long enough for an "oh really?" or an "I see."
Finally, she paused long enough to take a breath. "I hope I'm not keeping you too long."
"Oh, no," I heard myself reply. "I've got unlimited minutes."
"Good!" she
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