He smirks. “I like him.”
My stomach folds in. “That’s…good.”
He gets the fourth problem on his own, and I pretend not to notice. I close the notebook when he’s done. I push his hair off his forehead.
“I will be back next week. Keep your room clean, and maybe I’ll give you some cash.”
He smiles as I walk out of his room.
My mom is sitting at the table with a wine glass in her hand. Tyr is at the counter making sandwiches with the lunch meat I just bought. He’s using her good knife. There’s mayo on the cutting board.
“You’re the best, Lucy. Louis is happy he gets to go on that field trip.”
So she did get the Venmo. “Yeah.”
She points across from her. “Sit. Have a sandwich.”
I look at Tyr. “I have to drive back.”
She doesn’t argue. “Okay, baby.”
Tyr holds up half a sandwich. “I make a great sandwich.”
“No, thanks. It was nice meeting you, Tyr.”
I gather my keys and hug my mom. She smells like a perfume I don’t recognize. She squeezes me harder than she has in years.
“Drive safe, baby.”
“I will.”
I walk past the couch on the way to the door. Bear pauses his game.
“Drive safe.”
“Bye, Bear.”
I close the door behind me and sit in my car while I stare at the house.
She was happy. I haven’t seen her look like that in years. I haven’t seen her laugh like that in so long. Her hair was done. Her makeup was on. She was standing in the kitchen with life in her eyes instead of lying in bed with a bottle of alcohol.
But the dishes were the same. The trash was at the curb. Bear ate cereal five times today unless a few bowls were from Tyr. The dog peed on the bathroom floor, and she didn’t clean it up. She’s been dating this guy long enough that he’s potentially moving in, and the house was still myjob. I don’t understand.
Maybe Tyr is good. Maybe he’s the thing. Maybe in a month, the dishes won’t pile up because he’ll do them. Maybe Bear will eat real dinners. Maybe I’ll come home, and the laundry will already be done.
Maybe.
I want it, but I don’t trust it. I admit that I also liked him. He was nervous to meet me. He was trying. He made my mom laugh in a way I haven’t heard her laugh, and the laugh was real, not the laugh she used for the gas station guys.
Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe I’m being protective the way I always am, and maybe this time I don’t have to be.
I-94 is dark on the way back. The car pulls left. I correct right. I have no idea how to fix this problem. I get back to the apartment a little after nine.
The lights are off. Gianna’s at the rink for late film with the team — she texted to let me know. I eat half a granola bar standing in the kitchen because I haven’t eaten since noon in the dining hall. I shower and then get in bed, exhausted by the ghost of thoughts swirling in my head.
The alarm goes at six-thirty, and I wake up lighter than I went to bed. By lunch time, I’m crossing the south lawn toward thedining hall to meet with Gianna. She’s wearing the polo and sitting with Penelope Ventura.
Gianna is talking about sports physio when I sit down with my tray. “Hey.”
