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Sighing, I check my phone again. No word from him. Big fucking surprise.
I’m supposed to meet my best friend Drew for coffee in twenty minutes. If Peter’s not here by then… Guess we’ll see.
Thank God for Drew. If it weren’t for him, I don’t think I’d have made it through these last couple of months. Hell, maybe not even the last couple of years. He’s been propping me back up ever since his brother Alan and I broke up back in college. Which, now that I think about it, makes Drew my longest-lasting relationship ever. Now that’s funny.
He was a classmate (and we’ll pretend I wasn’t crushing on him all that semester) when he introduced me to Alan freshman year at a frat party. I thought it was love at first sight. Alan thought it was fun while it lasted.
Don’t ask me how he got to “fun while it lasted” from his previous stance of “we should get married.” But I’m pretty sure there was a lot of booze involved at the time.
I don’t hate Alan, not anymore. Which is good, because Drew’s practically family—without question the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I’d do without him being my rock the last ten years.
I’ll have to leave in five minutes if Peter’s not here. Bad enough I’m waiting on that jackass; I’m not going to make Drew wait on him too.
Drew never liked Peter. Maybe I should let Drew screen my boyfriends from now on. God knows he’s got better taste in men than I do.
The phone vibrates in my hand and I answer the call without looking at the screen.
“Where the fuck are you, Peter?”
“Language, Bailey,” says my mother. I can practically hear her clutching her pearls from here. “Is that really how you answer your phone?”
“Sorry, Mom,” I say, wandering over to peek out the window again. “Peter was supposed to be here an hour ago to pick up some boxes. I thought it was him calling.”
“Hmph,” says Mom. “You know I’m no fan of Peter’s, but that doesn’t mean you have to answer the phone like some kind of trailer trash.”
Right. Because to my mother’s mind people thinking we’re from the “wrong side of the tracks” is the worst thing in the world that could happen.
Probably because that’s exactly where we’re from. And she thinks I’m the one with issues.
“Is there something you needed?” I prompt, hoping to avoid the lecture this time. “I’m supposed to meet Drew in a few minutes.”
Mom huffs again. “That boy,” she says. “Honestly, Bailey. You know, if you spent a little less time with Andrew Hicks and a little more time on your own life you’d actually be married by now.”
“That boy” is twenty-nine, same as me. And the amount of time I spend with Drew is another sore subject for my mother. It’s unthinkable to her that men and women can be friends and friends only. You’d think that since Drew and I have been friends for a damn decade, she’d have changed her mind, but nope.
She also still invites him to church every time she sees him, just in case he’s given up “the whole atheist thing”—her words. Drew tells me to take it with a grain of salt.
“Maybe I don’t want to get married anymore,” I say instead. Mom gasps.
Damn it. Why did I say that? I don’t have time for this.
“What exactly do you think you’ll be doing with yourself, Bailey?” starts Mom. “When I was your age, I’d already birthed two children and lost a husband.”
I yank open the junk drawer in the kitchen, looking for… I don’t know what, but my hand closes over the handle of some old scissors. They’ll do.
I don’t see how it made you any happier. Out loud, I just say, “Yes, Mom.”
Stepping into the tiny bathroom on my way to the front door, I set the phone on Speaker mode and lean over the sink. Mom continues with a lecture I’ve heard so many times I could probably recite it for her and save us both the trouble. But if we didn’t go through this at least once every couple of weeks, she and I wouldn’t have much else to talk about, so I let her get through it while I put the ancient scissors to use.
“Are you listening to me, Bailey?”
“I’m here, Mom,” I say, observing my handiwork in the mirror. “Just getting cleaned up. I have to get going, though. Can I call you back later?”
“If you insist. But I still think—”
“Love you too, Mom. Bye,” I say, hitting the screen with my elbow to end the call. “This was probably a bad idea,” I say to my reflection, now sporting brand-new, uneven-as-all-hell bangs.
Fuck it.
