Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“No, I do not know why not.” She slammed a Tupperware onto the counter.
“You’re going to tell her about my conviction.”
“You haven’t told her?” She scooped a piece of lasagna onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave.
“No,” I sighed.
“You moved in with her and you didn’t tell her that you have a criminal record?” Mom fussed.
“I didn’t tell her because I’m not a criminal, and I’m not dangerous. I’ll tell her when I’m ready, but not before.”
The microwave beeped, and Mom took the plate out, setting it in front of me with a fork. I took two bites of it before she went to the cabinet and found another one of those goddamned drug tests. I slammed my fork down, swallowing what little I had managed to chew. It was actually pretty good.
“Mom!”
“Don’t you start with me,” she snapped.
“This is why I don’t want you to meet her.” I stood up, ready to go.
“If you don’t invite me over for dinner, I’ll just show up one day and have a little chat with this young lady,” Mom threatened, her face flushing with anger.
I stood there, debating for a long moment. Finally, I picked up the test and stormed into the bathroom. A moment later I was back, staring daggers at the woman who had brought me into the world.
“I’ll invite you over for dinner, but you have to promise to keep quiet,” I said, bargaining for what little concession I could get.
Mom sighed. “Okay, I won’t say anything. I’m just worried about you. I know you say you’re innocent, but if you do have a drug problem, it would do you no favors if I ignored it.”
I shook my head. “I would so much prefer you to ignore it.”
“That is exactly what I will not do.” Mom pointed a finger at me. “Are you going to finish your lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I offered lamely.
“Well, I don’t want to throw it out,” she grumbled.
I couldn’t win. I came for a free meal and had to eat shit. I sat back down to finish the plate, staring straight ahead, not engaging. Mom went into the bathroom to check the test results. She came back to tell me that I was clean and to thank me for cooperating. I finished my lunch and left, kissing her once on the cheek without feeling. Now I had even more on my mind than before. Sure, Mom had promised not to spill the beans, but would she live up to that promise when she actually met Tammy? There was only one way to know, and I was afraid I was going to find out.
Iwas actually dreading walking through my front door. I had worked toward my own space forever it seemed, found the perfect girl to share it with, and now I didn’t want to cross the threshold. I stood trying to talk myself into it for half a minute before sliding my key into the lock. A heavenly scent took me away from my struggles as I walked in to see Tammy in the kitchen. She was making chicken—my chicken, but she was using some combination of spices I had never smelled before.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello.” She switched off the stove and came to kiss me. It wasn’t an invitation to tear her clothes off, but it wasn’t a sisterly kiss either. The combination of the cooking and the greeting calmed me down considerably.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better,” she said. “I’m sorry if I was rude yesterday. I got some news, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”
I put my keys down and joined her in the kitchen. “What kind of news?”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Is it serious?”
She grabbed two plates and split the chicken in half. “It is serious, but not bad.”
“Oh.” I mulled that over. Serious but not bad. Could be about money, or maybe about her family. Whatever it was, I had to let it go. She’d promised to tell later, and I had to accept that. God knew I had my own secret that I was hesitating to share.
“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” she asked, as if she could read my thoughts.
Since we were being so honest, and since I had come in here with the intention of having a difficult conversation, I took a play from her book. “I do. But I’m waiting for the right time.”
“Okay.” She seemed to accept my logic, and just like that, we were good again. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to me.
“You’re not drinking?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m gonna have juice.”
We sat at the table and ate our chicken, and it was back to being wonderful.
“Did you get sick at work?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, I managed. How about you, how was your day?”