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“Lucy,” I hear Morgan say. I’d kind of forgotten she was there. “Let him read it.”
I let out a resigned sigh. “Fine,” I tell them.
Graham opens the paper and starts to read.
“Oh, elusive vein
Why are you such a pain?
If only I had a magic trick
So that I could make this very quick
Oh, elusive vein
Why are you such a pain?”
There’s silence as I look anywhere else but at Morgan on my phone and Graham standing there with my stupid poem in his hand. How did I think that was good?
“Wow, Lucy,” Morgan says. “That was ... something.”
“Well, finding veins is hard,” I say, as if that is some sort of reasoning or defense.
“I’m sure it is,” Morgan says, her voice patronizing.
I can’t stop the pouting look I give Graham and the little humph that escapes my mouth. “I didn’t know I’d be going up against freaking Roger Frost.” I hold a hand out toward him.
“Do you mean Robert Frost?” Graham asks, his mouth quirked up on one side.
“You’re so infuriating,” I say, ripping the paper with my stupid poem out of his hand. I’m going to put this through the shredder, first chance I get.
“Graham wins,” Morgan says.
Without a reply, I grab my phone and hit the end button.
Graham
IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOUR handsome face, Graham,” my mom says, sitting across from me at a corner table at the South Shore Café.
It’s an upscale burger joint, with an amazing outdoor patio that’s covered in a foot of snow. But through the window you can see views of the mountains, and if it weren’t so foggy today, we’d be able to see the frozen lake.
“I’m glad you could meet,” I tell her honestly.
It is good to see her, even if this is part of the challenge I’m doing with Lucy. After a weekend of simple things like compliment a stranger (I won that one) and learn a dance (Lucy won that one), Morgan sent the text earlier yesterday, telling us that she was giving us more time for this one because the challenge was to spend time with someone you haven’t seen in a while. Luckily, I don’t work at the clinic or the spa on Mondays. I just have the hospital tonight.
Even though I saw both my parents at Christmas brunch, my dad was there, and as usual, we fought. It wasn’t a big blowup, like our interactions often turn into, but we bickered. My mom, as always, tried to play mediator.
It’s been a long time since it was just my mom and me, so when I got the text from Morgan, it felt like a nudge. I made the call, she had time, and now I sit across from her at this log cabin–style restaurant, with bright pendant lighting hanging above us, a burger in front of me, and a salad in front of her.
“So, tell me what you’ve been up to,” my mom says. She looks tired today. The bags under her eyes are darker, and her hair, which is usually down and well-styled, is pulled up in some sort of bun.
“I’ve been ... working, mostly,” I tell her.
She nods. “And how is that all going?”
“The same,” I say. She knows I’ve been working all three jobs to pay off my student loan debt. Lately I’ve been wondering if it wouldn’t be better if I just sold the house. I could pay my debt off and live in a rental for a while until I saved up for a down payment.
As appealing as that sounds, it would hurt the woman sitting across from me. The lot my house sits on was her idea, her plan. It was her way of keeping me around. To keep her only boy close by. And this is the first time I’ve been with just her since the summer.
