I don’t like seeing Mom cry.
Staring at the tabletop, I think of happier things. Like Kit’s face. His man purse. His pink, pink strawberry lips. The way he made friends with Eric Davidson of all people.
“What’s that, Jasp?” Dad asks as he sets the salad in the middle of the table.
“Oh…” I hand him the pin. “Kit gave it to me in first hour. He wouldn’t stop talking to me after that.”
“Stay positive.” Dad sets the pin back down on the table with a plink. “Words of wisdom.”
Mom brings the meatloaf over as Dad fetches the rolls. She hands out the plates and silverware next. Dad brings over a pitcher of tea. I’m ravenous.
I dive into Mom’s meatloaf and decide it’s never tasted more delicious. And to think, I almost missed it. Regret roils in my stomach, but I swallow it down with more tasty meatloaf. My parents are behaving strangely tonight. I want to ask them what’s going on, but in the end, decide to talk about something else besides me.
“Kit has Type 1 diabetes,” I tell them. “He has a monitor and an insulin pump. If he gets out of whack, he has to bolus.” I quickly chew down another bite. “He has a tattoo on his middle finger. Some kind of diabetes symbol that lets people know about his condition. A lot of people wear a bracelet, but not Kit. I don’t think Leesa likes it, but Tad thinks it’s cool.”
“A rebel, huh?” Dad asks, flexing his bicep to show off his whole sleeve of tattoos.
Mom laughs. “Zach, you’re not a rebel. You’re an accountant.”
“An accountant who plays in a Led Zeppelin cover band.” He winks at me and flashes me a rock-n-roll sign with his fingers. “I can’t help it if I’m responsible and rebellious.”
“Try not to show off too much at dinner tomorrow night,” Mom chides. “We don’t want to run our son’s boyfriend off.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I grumble, but a smile peeks through.
Maybe he is. For this week.
“You forgot to bring your backpack to school,” Mom says, not meeting my stare. “Try not to forget tomorrow.”
Dad’s gaze is probing as he waits for my response.
“I’ll bring it tomorrow,” I assure her.
Both of my parents relax.
I dart my eyes back and forth between them, trying to read their unspoken glances. What is it that they’re thinking?
Once I’m done eating, I stand up to grab my plate, my pills in my pocket rattling.
“How is the medication?” Mom asks, chewing on her bottom lip. “Did it work?”
“The doctor said it’d take up to two weeks to get it in his system,” Dad reminds her, a warning in his tone.
“I don’t know. Maybe it helped a little. It’s hard to tell.” I shrug as I make my way over to the sink. “Can I spend the night at Kit’s this weekend?”
“Yes,” both my parents bark out almost with too much excitement.
I frown, studying them both. “He might be my boyfriend by then,” I challenge, wanting to see their reaction.
“You’re a smart, responsible young man,” Dad says, lifting a brow at me. “Correct?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“It’s good to have someone you want to spend time with, right, Carla?”
“Absolutely,” Mom agrees.
They’re being so strange.
“Want to help your mother clean the kitchen?” Dad asks. “Then we could mess around on that new amp I got.”
“The babies love the bass,” Mom says with a chuckle. “They’re just like you two.”
I’m nodding at my dad as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, a grin tugging at my lips when I see Kit’s face.
Kit: Homeslice brought in a giant rat. Wasn’t dead yet either. Mom screamed so loud I’m sure the entire neighborhood thought someone was being murdered. Vesper wants to keep it as a pet. Dad hasn’t moved from his recliner because he’s Googling ways to get the rat out of the house. Meanwhile, Mom hasn’t stopped yelling at Dad to get off his ass to kill it.
I laugh just imagining it.
Me: Sounds intense.
Kit: You have no idea. How was meatloaf?
Me: Amazing. I think it’s the best version she’s ever made. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.
Kit: Me too, quark.
When I look up, my mom is crying, but she’s smiling. I used to feel better when I was a kid anytime she’d smile at me. I called it her mom magic. I’m not sure, before tonight, when I noticed the last time she smiled.
I smile back at her and then I do the dishes.
Knowing I have the entire week until the weekend to enjoy her smiles has me feeling good about my decision to promise Kit a sleepover.
Soon, Julian.
Not today because Kit distracted me.
Not tomorrow because he’s going to tell me what Eric said and then we have dinner with his parents.
Not this weekend because I promised to sleep over at Kit’s and he promised to touch me.