Good luck! I know you’ve got this. I’ve got my livestream all ready to go.
Let’s go #6!
Great game! One helluva OT goal. I was on the edge of my seat.
I’ll be around if you want to call. I miss you.
I stare at the unanswered string of texts. Jules has left me on read for hours. I guess I should feel lucky that she even looked at them, considering everything. It’s not that I don’t respect her need to distance herself after what happened, it’s just that I’ve never missed any of her games. I mean, I missedone, but that was when Mason was in the hospital, and I still feel bad about it. I suppose I just need her to know that I still care, even after all the upsetting things we said to each other. To make sure she knows that she’s still my best friend, and I never meant to hurt her.
It isn’t the silence that’s breaking me, though I have to admit, that doesn’t feel good, but the pictures she’s been posting all week. Intimate-looking ones. With Emily. I guess she’s figuring things out on that front, too.
Annoyed, I toss my phone back on my desk and go back to the game and video call going simultaneously on my laptop. The Mets areup against the Dodgers in game five of the NLCS playoffs, and Jules is ignoring me. All in all, it’s been a pretty crappy day.
“God, I hate the Dodgers,” Mason mumbles. I’m fairly certain he’s a little ahead of my feed, and sure enough, a couple of seconds later, LA manages to score another run to narrow the lead. I swear, they better not come from behind to win. “Think we’ll ever see the Reds win a pennant?”
I scoff. “Not in our lifetime.”
“Yeah.” He sighs like he already knew the answer and takes off his favorite Reds cap. He runs his hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. Even through the small box in the corner of my computer that houses our video call, I can see how tired he looks. “I should’ve gone to the movies with Mom and Richard.”
“Would’ve been better than this,” I say. Why we torture ourselves watching one of our rivals play for the pennant we’ll never see our team win is beyond me. “How is it living with Richard?”
It was only after Mom and Richard were married that they sold his condo, and he moved in with us. Orthem, I guess I should say since I was basically already out and in my little NYU dorm room. Mason likes to give me shit for bailing and making him the third wheel.
“Not as weird as I thought it would be. He’s cool. We even jam out sometimes. He’s pretty good on the bass.” He shrugs. “I try to give them space as much as I can. Newlyweds and all.”
“Ew,” I say and shudder. I do not need think of my mom having sex. “You know what would help with all that? If you left your room occasionally.”
“I leave my room,” he says defensively. “Went to a car show with Sarah and some friends last weekend.”
Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Way too much testosterone and engine revving for my liking, but I’m glad to hear that he’s getting out of the house. “Find anything worth buying?”
“Not really. Nothing to replace Betty anyway.”
When Richard bought Mom a new car and called it a wedding gift, Mason, for whatever reason, sold his Volkswagen and took her busted old Corolla instead. He claims it was because he wanted to put the cash toward a classic muscle car, but he’s yet to find one worth purchasing.
He yawns and scratches at the stubble on his face. “Took your bikeout a couple of days ago. Mom keeps muttering about it collecting dust in the garage and threatening to pawn it.”
Normally, I’d give him crap for riding it, make up some kind of joke about how he’s supposed to be an organ recipient, not a donor, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Joking about that seems like a jinx. “Thanks for keeping her greased for me.”
He puts his hands behind his head and twirls a bit in his chair. “Did you talk to Jules after the game?”
I glance at my phone. Still dark and silent. “I left her a few messages. She hasn’t gotten to them yet.”
“She’s probably out celebrating. I know I would be. Getting the winning goal in extra time? Legend status.”
I try not to think of who she’s celebrating with. “Yeah, she looked great.”
“Speaking of games,” Mason says, interrupting my intrusive thoughts, “I think I’m about done with this one.”
The Dodgers get a base hit a few seconds later, and I let out a long, frustrated breath. “Hard same.” I exit out of the sports app. “Off to play D&D?”
“Probably. Hey, you’re coming for Thanksgiving, right?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” I absolutely am, mostly because I want to stuff myself with homemade food, but if I’m being honest, it’s really because I want to see Jules. I can’t stop thinking about how we left things. We’ve had fights before, but this one felt different. Heavier. And if she keeps ignoring me, I will have no problem cornering her at the dinner table. “Will you miss me if I don’t?”
He narrows his eyes, probably picking up on the fact that I’m just giving him a hard time. “Someonemight miss you. Probably Mom.”
I flip him off. “Don’t you have a campaign to run and dice to roll?”
