Page 82 of Regretting Youu

Chapter Twenty-Two

Clara

It was a long weekend. Lexie and Miller both worked late shifts. Other than sitting with Miller during his break Saturday night and spending two hours on the phone with him last night, I haven’t seen him. I haven’t seen much of my mother either. After Friday night’s weirdness, she spent all day Saturday on the computer applying for jobs. I spent most of Sunday in my room catching up on homework.

I’m later than usual when I get to Jonah’s class. I’m the last one to arrive before the bell rings, so I’m surprised when Jonah approaches my desk and kneels in front of it. He usually doesn’t pay me individual attention in front of other students.

“How’s your mother?”

I shrug. “Good, I guess. Why?”

“She didn’t return my texts this weekend. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

I lean forward, not wanting anyone else to hear what I’m about to say. “I came home Friday night, and she was sitting in the front yard, crying. It was weird. Sometimes I think she’s on the verge of a breakdown.”

He looks concerned. “Did she say why she was crying?”

I look around, and everyone is talking, not paying attention to us. “I didn’t ask. She cries more than she doesn’t, so I just stopped asking her about it.”

The bell rings, so Jonah returns to his desk. But he seems distracted as he starts to explain the lesson for the day. He looks tired. He looks like he’s over it.

It disappoints me a little. Sometimes I feel like being an adult is so much easier than being a teenager, because you should have it all figured out as an adult. You’re more emotionally mature, so you can handle crises better. But seeing Jonah right now as he tries to pretend he’s not distracted, and watching my mother try to navigate her life as if her will still exists, is all the proof I need that grown-ups might not have their shit figured out any more than we do. They just wear more-convincing masks.

That disappoints me.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I wait until Jonah’s back is to the classroom before pulling my phone out and setting it on my desk. I swipe the screen and read Miller’s text.

Miller: I’m off work today. Want to work on the video submission?

Me: Yes, but I really don’t want to be around my mother right now. Can we do it at your house?

Miller: Sure. Come over around 5. I need to take Gramps to the doctor at 3 so I won’t see you after school.

Miller is on the porch waiting for me when I pull into his driveway at ten after five. He jogs toward my car and hops into the passenger seat before I even have time to get out.

“Gramps is asleep,” he says. “Let’s go to Munchies first and let him rest for a while.”

“What’s Munchies?”

Miller looks at me like I’ve just blown his mind. “You’ve never been to Munchies? The food truck?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

He’s completely taken aback. “You mean you’ve never had the Mac?”

“Is that a food?”

He laughs and pulls on his seat belt. “Is that a food,” he mimics. “I hope you’re hungry, because you’re about to have the best experience of your life.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting at a picnic table, staring at the camera Miller propped up with a tripod right before he went to order our food. It’s pointed right at me. He said he’s going to start filming random things when we’re together because it’ll be good for the film project to have extra footage. Or B-roll, as Miller referred to it. He already talks like a director sometimes.

He told me never to stare directly at the camera because we need to pretend it’s not there, so of course I stare at it and make faces the entire time he’s in line at the food truck.

I’ve honestly never seen Miller this enthusiastic over something. I’m actually more jealous of the sandwich than I’ve ever been of Shelby. He’s that excited about it. Apparently, the Mac is a grilled cheese sandwich stuffed with macaroni and cheese that was boiled in holy water.

Okay, so holy water isn’t really an ingredient, but with the way he talks about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were.

When he approaches the table, he sets the tray in front of me, kneeling down on one knee like he’s presenting a queen with a gift. I laugh and pull the tray from him, grabbing one of the sandwiches.