“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
Mom’s already waiting for me curbside when I get out of the car. “Who’s your friend?” She ducks her head to peek through the windshield.
Matt gives an awkward wave before he drives off.
“Friend from Philly. He needed to get away for a few days so he’s staying at the motel in town.”
“Where’s Damon?”
“He had to study. He’s got less than eight weeks of graduate school left, Mom. He can’t drop everything to come home with me every time I need to.”
“Your … friend …” She points toward the direction Matt went. “He’s just a friend, right? Because we love Damon.”
I roll my eyes. Hard. “Just a friend.”
“Okay, well, Aunt Cheri hasn’t arrived yet, but she should be here soon.”
“Why does she want to see me anyway?” I ask as I follow her into the house.
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
Dad hands me a beer as soon as I walk in and tells me to take a seat in the living room. Seeing as I was here a month ago, we don’t have much to talk about. We rarely have anything to talk about normally, but the silence is familiar—comforting, even.
When the telltale sound of a car idling in the driveway comes, Mom and Dad rise to meet Aunt Cheri at the door.
“Do you have any cash?” she asks. “I’ve only got my credit card and I have to pay for the cab. Sorry, I’ll pay you back.”
“I’ve got it,” Dad says and heads outside.
This whole visit is odd to me. As Jacie and I grew up, we’d see Aunt Cheri sporadically, but she never once asked to see me that I know of, so I don’t know why she wants to now. The last time I saw her, I was a teenager, and I can’t remember the exact specifics. I could’ve been fifteen or seventeen for all I know.
She’s a vision of perfect hippiness. When she takes off her coat, her long white dress flows over her thin frame, and her long blonde hair falls down her back. The only thing missing is a halo of flowers on her head.
“Maddox,” she says, her voice melodic.
I hold my arms out, because Aunt Cheri has always been a hugger like most of that side of the family. She’s nearly as tall as me and double the height of Mom.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Mom says. Aunt Cheri stares at Mom in silent question. “I have a vegan option for you,” she adds.
Still a nutcase. Vegetarians, I can forgive. Vegans? Are they even real humans?
Aunt Cheri drags me over to the couch and sits next to me while Mom and Dad putter around in the kitchen. “So, tell me about your life.”
“Uh … well … I work for Parsons’ Media.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s an advertising firm.”
“Does that pay well? Living in the big city, it’s exciting but expensive, right?” And this just got weirder. She’s never been interested in my life as far back as I can remember.
Her hand lands on top of mine, and my eyes focus on the millions of silvery rings she has. She has about three on each finger.
Yup. Nutcase.
“It pays enough.”
“Your mom tells me you’re seeing a nice boy.”
Right. “Yeah. His name is Damon.” I wonder when I should tell them all we “broke up.” I would’ve done it already had I not been keeping hope. He didn’t want me to hook up with Noah last week. No matter how many times I tell myself not to read into that, I can’t help wondering. Although at the baseball game, I thought we were about to kiss, and he pulled back. Again.
Women are right; guys are so much harder to understand.
“As long as he’s taking care of you.”
“He’s great.” I’m not lying. Damon is great, but the words feel thick on my tongue.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come to see you.”
“Little bit.” Or a lot. Whatever.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mom calls out from the kitchen.
Aunt Cheri smiles. “Better get to it then.”
Mom and Dad are already sitting at the dining table when we walk in, each of them staring at Cheri with an intensity I can’t decipher.
“Okay, can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask, taking my seat.
“Maybe Cheri can explain,” Dad says.
“Well,” Aunt Cheri says. She takes a napkin and lays it on her lap. “I have some news. Some not great news. And I wanted … I mean, I think it’s time to …”
Dad’s fork clatters to his plate. “I was worried you’d try to pull something like this. Calling us out of the blue to let us know you need to speak to Maddox.”
“I’m still lost over here,” I say. Something like knowing ticks in the back of my brain, but I think—no, I hope—I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“Maybe it’s time,” Mom whispers. “We always planned to tell him eventually. But then we kept putting it off and putting it off.”