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“I hope you realize howscaredI was—”
“I do.”
“YouknowI don’t like you changing plans without letting me know.”
“Iknow, but you’re really overreacting.”
“Overreacting? When you’re… When I didn’t even want you to move out on your own anyway!”
There it was. The feeling of anger, guilt, and embarrassment all rolled into one. “We’re not having this discussion again. We agreed—”
“You and your fatheragreed—”
“I’m twenty-five years old!”
“But you’re not like… other twenty-five-year-olds.”
She never believed in me. She never saw past this. She’s known me my whole life, has been there since the beginning and… She still can’t stop seeing me as somehow less than other people.He took a deep breath. He knew her prejudices, her domineering, all came from a place of worry and concern. He knew she wasn’t perfect. But they’d settled into a routine he thought was better for them both. He didn’t need to shut her out of his life entirely, as long as she acknowledged some boundaries. And today was his fault. Sort of. “Go inside and order some coffee. Sit down and take a deep breath.”
She sobbed. “I can’t order coffee. My purse is in the car!”
“No, remember, I told you your card is accessible on your phone?”
“On my phone?” She paused, probably pulling the phone away from her ear to examine it, as her voice got quieter. “How do I do that…?”
Archer had showed her at least twice before. There was no way he’d have the patience or capability to tell her how without being there to show her again. “Ask the baristas!”
“What?”
Archer spoke louder. “Ask the baristas!”
“All right, all right.” Her voice got louder. “No need to shout.”
Archer hit the back of his head against the wall several times. “I’ll call Dad and have him bring a spare—”
“No!” She sounded flustered again. “Don’t call your father—”
“He can bring a spare key—”
“No. He can’t know about this.” Know about her rushing over to their son’s place in the middle of the week or locking her keys and purse in the car? Probably both.
Archer sighed. “I’ll call a locksmith.”
“Could you get Pauline on the line? Maybe have her bring you over?”
Archer shook his head, even though no one was there to see it. “Pauline is my nurse, not my chauffeur. You were the one who told me she wasn’t my maid.”
“But this is different!”
“She also has a life and I don’t need her here at all hours.” He wanted to say that he didn’t have a spare key anyway, but he knew he did. His mother locked herself out too often not to have one here—or she’d do it on purpose to use it as an excuse to stay longer.
“I have to go now,” said Archer.
“But I don’t know what to do.”
“Coffee. Or maybe tea would be a better idea. Use phone to pay. Ask barista how. Wait for locksmith.”
“Archer—”
