surpassed me, so after eighteen years of raising you, little bugger, I deserve to be pampered now in my old age.”
“Look at that skin! You do not look a day over forty.” I winked at her.
She frowned. “I miss you. You look skinny. How can a chef be skinny? No one eats food from a skinny chef.”
“I am not skinny; I’m fit. Everyone here loves me because they think I cook healthy.”
“Do you?”
“Not even a little bit. What is the point of life if you don’t add a little butter sometimes?”
She and I both laughed at that.
“Stop it! You’re making me miss you more.”
“Brenda.” I give her the very same look she used to give me as a child.
“At least say you miss me, too, you little twat.”
“I miss you both.”
She inhaled deeply, like she was getting a power boost before exhaling. “Okay, what does my little wanker want?”
“Can’t I just call to say hi? Or to make sure my childhood home hasn’t burnt to ground?”
“Wesley.” She gave me the look , and I cringed at how effective it still was.
“Fine…I have a friend.” I wasn’t sure how else to phrase it, but I wish it wasn’t like that. It felt cliché, but she didn’t interrupt me. “She’s an amazing, hardworking person and a week ago she got hurt. She didn’t come to me until now. Also, I don’t know her very well, but I know I want to help her. I just don’t know how. She’s become quiet and she’s not a naturally quiet person.”
“Sounds like you know her well,” she replied, her eyes softer.
“No.” I frowned, wishing I did. “She’s just a very genuine person. If you met her, you’d like her instantly.”
“Wesley, what’s happening with Maxwell?” she asked and I wished she hadn’t.
“Nothing, we’re still together.” As far as I know.
She stared at me for a long time before speaking. “Does he realize you have feelings for someone else?”
“She’s just a friend. Honestly, we haven’t known each other for—”
“I’ve known you for thirty-one years—thirty-two, the day after tomorrow, and in all that time you’ve only ever called me twice about specific people in your life: Maxwell and this woman. What’s going on darling?”
Running my hand through my hair, part of me regretted calling. “Mum…can we just focus on her right now? I just need advice. What do I say?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, shrugging. “If she’s as genuine as you say then that’s probably what she wants from you—truth.”
“Women love it when you bare yourself to them.” I heard the soft giggle of my other mum, Pippa. She sat on the armrest of the chair and came into the frame, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. “If she doesn’t want to talk about herself then be honest with her about who you are. The more she feels like she knows you, the more comfortable she’ll feel about sharing her problems.”
“So be a douche and just keep talking about myself?” That sounded like an awful idea.
“No, you ass, you do things together and sometimes put in a tasteful slip like ‘Oh that shirt reminds me off when…’, things like that. What are the stars telling you?”
“To leave the astrology for you. I’ll call you later. I love you both.”
They waved before hanging up. I pulled the ear buds out of my ears and stood up as Jane came downstairs wearing one of Maxwell’s button down shirts. Her hair was down and was still wet from her bath.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your call.” She lifted her hands as if to push me back. “I just wanted water.”
Nodding, I headed into the kitchen.
“I can get it myself.” She followed after me.
“You’re a guest,” I reminded her, grabbing the glass and the pitcher of water from the fridge. I filled the glass and gave it to her, hoping she wouldn’t run back to the room. For a split second I’m sure it crossed her mind, but she stayed sipping. Maxwell and I wanted to call a doctor, but we also didn’t want her
“Look at that skin! You do not look a day over forty.” I winked at her.
She frowned. “I miss you. You look skinny. How can a chef be skinny? No one eats food from a skinny chef.”
“I am not skinny; I’m fit. Everyone here loves me because they think I cook healthy.”
“Do you?”
“Not even a little bit. What is the point of life if you don’t add a little butter sometimes?”
She and I both laughed at that.
“Stop it! You’re making me miss you more.”
“Brenda.” I give her the very same look she used to give me as a child.
“At least say you miss me, too, you little twat.”
“I miss you both.”
She inhaled deeply, like she was getting a power boost before exhaling. “Okay, what does my little wanker want?”
“Can’t I just call to say hi? Or to make sure my childhood home hasn’t burnt to ground?”
“Wesley.” She gave me the look , and I cringed at how effective it still was.
“Fine…I have a friend.” I wasn’t sure how else to phrase it, but I wish it wasn’t like that. It felt cliché, but she didn’t interrupt me. “She’s an amazing, hardworking person and a week ago she got hurt. She didn’t come to me until now. Also, I don’t know her very well, but I know I want to help her. I just don’t know how. She’s become quiet and she’s not a naturally quiet person.”
“Sounds like you know her well,” she replied, her eyes softer.
“No.” I frowned, wishing I did. “She’s just a very genuine person. If you met her, you’d like her instantly.”
“Wesley, what’s happening with Maxwell?” she asked and I wished she hadn’t.
“Nothing, we’re still together.” As far as I know.
She stared at me for a long time before speaking. “Does he realize you have feelings for someone else?”
“She’s just a friend. Honestly, we haven’t known each other for—”
“I’ve known you for thirty-one years—thirty-two, the day after tomorrow, and in all that time you’ve only ever called me twice about specific people in your life: Maxwell and this woman. What’s going on darling?”
Running my hand through my hair, part of me regretted calling. “Mum…can we just focus on her right now? I just need advice. What do I say?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, shrugging. “If she’s as genuine as you say then that’s probably what she wants from you—truth.”
“Women love it when you bare yourself to them.” I heard the soft giggle of my other mum, Pippa. She sat on the armrest of the chair and came into the frame, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. “If she doesn’t want to talk about herself then be honest with her about who you are. The more she feels like she knows you, the more comfortable she’ll feel about sharing her problems.”
“So be a douche and just keep talking about myself?” That sounded like an awful idea.
“No, you ass, you do things together and sometimes put in a tasteful slip like ‘Oh that shirt reminds me off when…’, things like that. What are the stars telling you?”
“To leave the astrology for you. I’ll call you later. I love you both.”
They waved before hanging up. I pulled the ear buds out of my ears and stood up as Jane came downstairs wearing one of Maxwell’s button down shirts. Her hair was down and was still wet from her bath.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your call.” She lifted her hands as if to push me back. “I just wanted water.”
Nodding, I headed into the kitchen.
“I can get it myself.” She followed after me.
“You’re a guest,” I reminded her, grabbing the glass and the pitcher of water from the fridge. I filled the glass and gave it to her, hoping she wouldn’t run back to the room. For a split second I’m sure it crossed her mind, but she stayed sipping. Maxwell and I wanted to call a doctor, but we also didn’t want her
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