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Lena thought for a while. “I think Mom had a boyfriend named Eugene. I think she lived here and he lived in Greece, and I think she might have really loved him.”
Effie raised her eyebrows. “You do, do you?”
Lena nodded.
“Well, I think you should stick with your own tragic love story.”
“David wants to take us both out to dinner,” Christina announced that evening, as though Ed McMahon had just arrived with the giant novelty check.
“Why?”
“Carmen!” Christina was too happy to be mad. “Because he wants to meet you!”
Christina had the Weight Watchers cookbook open on the counter and onions sizzling in a pan.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night?” Christina suggested.
“I’m going to the movies with Lena.”
“Thursday?”
“Baby-sitting.”
“Friday?”
Carmen studied her mother in annoyance. Usually a person got the hint by the third try. “I’m … going out with Porter,” she said, satisfied with her answer even though it was a lie. Her mother wasn’t the only one in the world with a boyfriend.
Christina’s eyes turned from disappointed to pleased. “Bring him! We’ll go out, all four of us!”
“David wants to take us out to dinner,” Carmen announced into the phone an hour later. Her tone was somewhat different than her mother’s had been.
Tibby exhaled. “It sounds like it’s getting serious. You know, time to meet the parents. Except the other way around.”
“I told her I was going out with Porter, and she wants him to come too.”
“A double date with your mother?” Tibby said, at least partly enjoying the absurdity of it.
“I know,” Carmen moaned. “It might be better this way, though. I’ll have something else to pay attention to. And maybe the guys can talk about tire irons or something.”
“Maybe.” Tibby sounded doubtful.
“The only thing is, I don’t actually have a plan to go out with Porter. I made that up.”
“Oh, Carmen.”
“Yeah, so now I have to ask him.”
Tibby laughed, but Car men could tell it was appreciative. “Do you like him?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Porter!”
“Oh. Uh, I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
“He’s really good-looking. Don’t you think?”
“He looks fine,” Tibby said a little impatiently. “But Carmen, you shouldn’t ask him out if you don’t like him. It kind of sends the wrong message.”
“Who said I didn’t like him? Maybe I do like him,” Carmen snapped.
“Gosh. You make it sound so romantic.”
Carmen laughed. She bit at a loose piece of skin next to her thumbnail. “Did I tell you my mom put us on a diet?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Poor you.”
“Except I walked to Giant and bought three flavors of Ben & Jerry’s.”
Tibby laughed again. “Atta girl.”
Hey Bee Bee,
I am a big fat loser, but what else is new? The big event on my social calendar is a double date with my mother. I am totally serious.
How did this happen? A week ago my mom’s big plans were a dentist appointment. Now she’s doing something with David like every other night.
Don’t say you’re happy for her. You said that last time. You’re not the one eating the frozen pizza.
Last night she went out wearing this cropped shirt. I swear you could see her belly button. Not pretty, Bee.
This morning I called her at the office to see if I could go to a ten o’clock movie and she said, “Use your judgment.” !!!! How come my judgment was never good enough to use before David came along?
Am I just being a selfish brat? Be honest.
But not too honest.
Write soon and tell me everything about Gilda Tomko. I miss you so much.
Love,
Carmen “the Brat” Lowell
“Meet us for breakfast if you want,” Maura called later that night as the elevator door closed. “We’re walking down the highway to IHOP.”
“All right,” Tibby said through the door. Being New Yorkers, Maura and Alex liked to joke about how other places didn’t have sidewalks, only highways. Tibby nodded along like she was a New Yorker too, not a product of pure suburbia.
The pulsing sleep light of her iBook greeted her. “Hi,” she said to her computer.
“Hi,” it said back.
Tibby started. She felt her blood zooming around her body.
The computer laughed. It had the voice of Brian. Tibby switched on the overhead light.
“Oh, my God! Brian! You scared the crap out of me.”
He came over to her and pulled on her arm. “Hey, Tibby.” His smile was giant.
Her smile was giant too, and automatic. She had missed him. “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she said without thinking.
“And also, I thought I’d bring you home.”
“You mean for the weekend?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“That’s not for three days.”
“That’s true.” He shrugged. “I missed you.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Somebody let me in downstairs.” He pointed to her door. “And you could pick that lock with anything.”
“Really? That’s comforting.” She missed Bee when she thought of lock-picking.
“Is it okay if I …?” He pointed to a dark green sleeping bag in a roll on the floor.
“Sleep here?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Yeah. Of course. I mean, where else are you going to go?”
He looked a little uncertain. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
When she stopped to think about it, Tibby realized it was pretty profound having a boy stay all night in your room. It was really like college in that way.
But then again, Brian wasn’t a boy. Well, he was, technically speaking. But Tibby didn’t act or feel around him the way she did around any other boys she had ever known. Much as she loved him, Brian was about as sexy as tube socks.
She studied him for a moment. It was funny how much he had changed since the day she met him. He was much taller. (It helped that he’d been eating dinner at her house two or three nights a week.) He washed his hair sometimes. (Tibby was always taking showers; she suspected he had learned by example.) He wore a belt. (Okay, so maybe she had bought him one.) But still he was Brian.
