Page 143 of Bad Cruz


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“You expect me to just sit around and wait for you?” I waved my fist in the air, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yes,” Jerry said simply. Unapologetically. “Look, no one else in this town is going to hire you right now.”

Too tired to bargain with him, I hung up and finished making the veggie casserole and salad. When the food was ready, I flopped on the couch and screamed into one of the throws.

Weirdly, I cared more about losing Cruz than my job.

“Mom?” I heard a few minutes later—or maybe hours—and realized I’d fallen asleep.

I rubbed my eyes, swinging my legs from the sofa and standing up. Bear was kicking off his sneakers by the door, looking sweaty and happy.

“Care Bear! Food’s ready. Help me set the table.” I was already on my way to the kitchen, pretending all was well in the world.

“Don’t worry about food. I bumped into Cruz on my way back from school. He was on his lunch break, so he bought me tacos.”

I froze mid-step, turning on my heel to look at him.

“You hung out with Cruz?”

“Yeah.” He scrunched his nose, moving into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. “Sorry. I know you two broke up or whatever. But, like, it’s cool to be friends with him still, right?”

“Of course.” I recovered, plastering a smile over my face.

I wished Cruz being there for Bear was a sign he still wanted me. Unfortunately, knowing Cruz, he was just being his usual, perfect self. A painful notion I couldn’t name stabbed at me.

Cruz and Bear genuinely liked each other.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Of course, Care Bear! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uhm, because you’re crying?”

“I am?” I patted my cheeks quickly, horrified to realize that they were, indeed, wet. It didn’t help my self-pity that not one member of my family had dropped by to check how I was doing. “Well, must be seasonal allergies. Let me go wash my face real quick, honey. I’ll be right back.”

When I came back, Bear was sitting at the kitchen table, clutching his phone, looking guilty.

“What’s up?” I asked breezily. I pulled a sleeve of cookies from the pantry and dumped it between us, getting out a carton of milk and plopping beside him. “Why are you looking at me funny?”

Bear’s face contorted. “Well, I kind of did something behind your back.”

“Please don’t let ‘something’ be a girl. I’m too young to be a grandmother.”

Bear’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. “Jesus, Mom, no. Not even in the same realm.”

“Right. Hit me with it, then.”

“I called Rob.”

“You did? When? And why would I be mad? I am happy you two are connecting.” I pulled two cookies from the sleeve, shoving them into my mouth.

“Well, that’s the thing. I called him so he could come here. Right now.”

I opened my mouth to tell my son he was grounded until the age of nineteen when the doorbell chimed. Bear hurried to answer the door. A second later, Rob was in my kitchen.

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