Mia rinses off dishes in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher, quietly occupied. As she nears the end of her task, Vince comes back down the hall. He changed into black shorts and a T-shirt, but now he stops and leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Mia.
“Pressing chores?” he asks.
Glancing up, she offers a smile. “One less thing to do tomorrow.”
“Are you going to talk to that guidance counselor about classes?”
Mia shakes her head, losing her smile. “No, I canceled the appointment.”
He scowls. “Why?”
“Because we can’t afford it, so what’s the point?”
“I told you to go to the goddamn appointment. If you want to go to college, you’re going to college.”
“Honestly, it’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It’s one year,” she assures him. “Lots of people take one year off. It isn’t a big deal. I’ll take this year, we’ll see what we can set aside, and I’ll reapply next year. It’s totally fine.”
His pride can’t handle Mia wanting something he isn’t in a position to give her and since I’m the person he comes to when he needs money, I don’t need the power to read minds to know I’m in his thoughts now.
He doesn’t speak and neither does she, but since he remains in the kitchen watching her finish her task, the moment grows tense. Vince is steeping himself in unproductive thoughts and Mia is doing the dance of avoidance, occupying herself with kitchen tasks so it doesn’t become uncomfortably clear they’ve stopped speaking to one another.
By the time Mia has loaded every dish, scrubbed the sink, and wiped down the counter and stove top, there’s nothing else she can do. Seeming to realize that, she pauses and glances at Vince, still standing there.
“Did you meet Mateo’s new maid?” he asks.
“Yep,” Mia replies evenly. Desperate for something to do, she grabs a magnetic notepad from the refrigerator and opens a drawer to grab a pen. “Did you need me to add any last minute items to the grocery list?”
Vince ignores her attempt to direct the conversation away from me. “She seemed cool. She’s really pretty.”
Mia shoots him a look. “Don’t start with me; I’ll kick your ass.”
His lips curve up faintly, but he’s too busy brooding to even indulge her. Fucking idiot. She gives him an out and he ignores it to kick up shit. “Not for me, obviously,” he answers. “Mateo seems to like her, though.”
“Great,” she says, leaning over the counter to write something on her list.
“Think so?”
He asks easily enough, but we all know that’s a loaded question. Mia’s tense already, wanting desperately not to talk about this. “Sure.”
So he pushes a little harder. “Yeah, Joey was dicking around during drinks—you know how he is—and he started to flirt with her. Mateo got jealous. Shut him right down.”
The pen drops from Mia’s hand to the countertop and she spins around. “Great. I already said it was great. Fantastic. Wonderful. I’m gloriously happy for them. Is that good? Is that sufficient? Should I help her pick out monogrammed towels, or should I at least wait until he fucks her first? If he’s already head over heels, maybe we should look online and see if they have a gift registry.”
Vince is a little floored by the level of response he got. So am I, actually.
“Jesus Christ. Yeah, you are clearly good with it. This is definitely what ‘good with it’ looks like.”
“Well, you won’t leave me alone,” she blurts, bursting with discomfort. “All I want to do is not talk about this, and you won’t let me. For Christ’s sake, we could talk about literally anything else.”
“Why?” he flings back. “Why can’t we talk about this?”
“Because I don’t care about his love life. I don’t care and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What did he say to you in the kitchen?”
“I already told you, nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeats, in disbelief. “He storms into the kitchen and says nothing?”
Abandoning her list and the kitchen, she moves past him and back toward the living room. “I’m not fighting with you about this.”
He follows her. “You know, seems to me like you should be happy if he likes someone else. If he likes her, we don’t have to worry anymore.”
“We don’t worry,” she states. “You worry. He isn’t doing anything to us now. I haven’t even been anywhere near him without you in months.”
“Until tonight,” he throws back. “And of course you won’t tell me what was said or what went down. That’s not suspicious behavior at all.”
She turns back to stare at him. “Suspicious? I’m sorry, am I on trial now? Suspicious behavior? What is it I’m suspected of, Vince?”
At least he’s smart enough not to answer that one.
Mia turns away, shaking her head and pacing across the living room. She has no direction but she wants to escape. With nowhere to go, she drops onto the couch and curls her legs beneath her. She stares ahead at the television, at the camera, at me. She looks lonely, and I hate it. I know what it’s like to be lonely in the presence of others. I want to go steal her away from her house and bring her back here. I never want her to look lonely and unhappy in Vince’s company again.