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Once more, something about his words gave me a huge sense of relief. I raised one eyebrow. “So, thisisn’ta date?”
Josh’s lips twitched up. “Not unless you want it to be.”
Smooth, I thought with an inward chuckle, loading up another bite of macaroni and chicken. “So, you said you had a sister, right? The one who watchedGossip Girl?”
Josh nodded. “Step-sister, actually. My mom married her dad about…five years ago now? Time flies.” He paused, thinking. “Rachel’s parents are divorced too, right?”
I nodded, and words were on the tip of my tongue.So are mine. Except that there was no way I’d say the words aloud. “Yeah, hers split up last summer.”
“I remember her saying something about it. So, she lives with her mom but visits her dad on the weekends?”
The first part of his sentence had tripped me up—Rachel had told Josh about her parents’ divorce?—that it took a second for the second sentence to fully register. “Oh, uh, no. They’re no-contact with their dad.” Where would he even have gotten that from?
Josh bobbed his head to a slow beat. “That was how it was with me at first. My dad moved across the country after they split, so I didn’t even see him until he came to visit a year ago. It’s crazy how the dynamic flips.”
I couldn’t feel what my features morphed into, but I hoped my expression was more polite than pained. Rachel had no contact with her father, and Josh had been in the same boat—was I next in line to join the club? The idea made me sick.
Before I had a chance to come up with a response—and rescue the conversation from the bottomless pit it’d fallen into—Josh’s phone went off with a low chime. He fished it from his pocket, shaking his head. “Speaking of the sister,” he said, thumbing through the text. “She wants me to order her a piece of chocolate cake. Have you ever had it?”
“I have, and it’sdelicious. Triple-layer goodness that they make every day.”
“We need one of those then,” Josh said, rapping his knuckles once more on the table before getting to his feet. “I’m going to go ask our waitress for two.”
This time, when I smiled up at him, I knew it was genuine.A pleasant surprise, I thought, watching him walk up to the area where the waitress was leaning, chatting with one of her other coworkers. His low voice reached me even from this distance.This was a pleasant surprise.
“Mom?” It was ten minutes before eight o’clock when I got through the door. I tapped my fingers on the to-go box, listening to the hollow sound inside. Josh gave me the slice of cake to go, and though I’d tried to split it in half, Josh sent the rest home with me. Secretly, I was grateful—I had a midnight snack for later.
Her car was outside, but the only response I received came by way of the air conditioner’s hum. I checked the kitchen, the laundry room, and even the bathroom, but she wasn’t there. I poked my head into her bedroom, but no mother in sight.
The house was quiet in a way that I hated. Dad should’ve been home watching TV. Eight o’clock was when his favorite crime drama came on, and he would’ve already been in his recliner at this point, feet propped on the coffee table even though Mom always yelled at him for it.
A thick lump formed in my throat. “Mom, are you home?”
Nothing. Did she go out again with her friends? It was possible, but she almost always left a note. Always texted. I sat down on the edge of her floral quilt and pulled out my cell phone. Instead of calling her, I opened up my Friend Finder app, waiting for it to load. She’d made me download the app my freshman year under the guise that she liked havingherlocation tracked because of all the open houses and tours she did with people.
I hadn’t asked, but I knew that was probably her way of tracking me without an objection on my part.
Blue words flashed on my Friend Finder app.Cell phone not found.
When I called Mom, her phone went straight to voicemail, her chipper realtor tone greeting me. “Hello, this is Kelly Jenson—”
I hung up, letting out a slow breath, and dialed another number. Rachel took a few moments before answering. “Oh my gosh,hey! I’ve been waiting for you to call! Did you just get home? That’s a good sign, right? How did it go?”
“Before we jump in,” I said quickly, trying to cut off her excitement, or at the very least curb it for five minutes. “Have you seen my mom at all since I left your house? Like, going out with a friend?”
“Uh, no. Why?”
As I got up, I saw Mom’s nightstand and the tissue box sitting on it. There were several tissue wads surrounding the surface, and I tried to think if I noticed Mom’s allergies acting up. “She’s not home.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s okay, isn’t? I mean, old people can have social life too, right?” Rachel hummed a little, sounding suspiciously like theJeopardy!theme song. “Can I ask about the date yet?”
I puffed out a breath and padded my way to the bedroom, carrying my cake with me. As I eased open my door, I turned the call on speaker mode, wanting to fill the house’s silence. “It went okay.”
“Just okay? Come on, Ava. Gimme all the deets. I won’t interrupt.”
The familiarity of my bedroom created an instant calm. When I turned thirteen, I’d been allowed to paint my room for the first time. Mom, Dad, and I taped lines across my boring white walls and as a family, went to work filling in the geometric shapes we’d made. Teal, pink, light blue, light green—it’d been a fun experiment, and a memory that I could recall with perfect clarity. The geometric lines doing wonders to quell the building heaviness in my body.
That, and Rachel’s voice, drawing me to the moment. “Uh, it was…good. It didn’t really feel like a date. There wasn’t any pressure.”
