By the time I stumble into the kitchen, it’s past dawn, but Mom is already gone. I look around for a note telling me she had an early shift at the hospital or an emergency.
Hmm . . . nothing on the counter or the fridge door, but she left the coffeepot on so there’s a crusty layer of burned black sludge on the bottom.
Face facts, Matty. That’s your note.
“Thanks, Mom. Love you too.”
No sooner have I cleaned up and made fresh coffee than the phone rings in the living room. The landline? Who the hell is calling on the landline? I almost don’t know what I’m hearing. It’s been forever since anyone has actually called it. I snatch it off the cradle like it’s a bomb.
“Yeah.”
“Matty, hey.”
“Em?” I freeze and stare at the phone. “You’re calling me?”
“Duh.”
“I mean, on the home phone. This isn’t my cell.”
Emily sighs, the weight of a thousand worlds on her shoulders. “Nothing gets past you, huh, dipshit?”
“So thanks for calling and insulting me.”
“You wanna go to the lake with me and Toad?”
“Excuse me?”
“The lake? You wanna go?”
My eyes squint and find the clock on the other side of the room. It’s not even eight. “What are you doing back? I thought you were at your gran’s.”
She sighs. “Long story.”
“So you’re back.”
“Are you not listening? Yes, we’re back. And we’re going to the lake and we’re inviting you.”
“Um, I have a friend visiting.”
“That girl? Bring her.”
I take the phone with me to the kitchen and look out the back door. Priya and Ginger are asleep in the field. A blush comes to my cheeks when I think of her—of us.
“Going once, going twice . . .”
“No thanks.”
“No?”
I feel my shoulders shrug. “Nah. We’re good.” We.
Yeah, that’s what I said. Priya and me. We’re good.
“But—”
“Gotta go.” I click off the phone and dump it on the table.
Did I just turn down Emily?
Yup.
Did it feel good?
No.
It felt awesome.
I go back to the coffee and hum the theme song to The Twilight Zone a couple of times, and the phone rings again. We really should get caller ID.
“Hello?”
“We’ll drive,” Em says, as if the conversation never ended.
“Yeah, no. Not interested.”
“Why not?”
“Emily. No.” I pace the kitchen with the phone, still not quite comprehending why Emily is being so obtuse.
Maybe she doesn’t like hearing no either.
Em makes a little snorting sound. “Look, I’m trying to be nice.”
Is she? Does she feel bad she treated me like crap?
Outside in the field, I see my dog slowly circle Priya, pausing to stretch her back and legs every couple of feet. “Em, I gotta jump, all right? Have fun at the lake.”
This time I hang up before she can get a last word in . . .
. . . and then she calls back. I swipe it off the counter before it rings a second time.
“No, Emily. Not interested.”
Silence and then . . . “Junior, hey.”
“Dad?” I feel a huge rock drop right into my stomach.
“Yeah, hi.” His voice brightens. “You doing okay?”
“Am I . . . ?” I hold the phone out and stare at it as if I could telegraph to my father my sincere inability to believe he’s calling me. “Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s good. You’re taking care of your mom?”
Oh my god, seriously? Like he’s on a trip out of town and I’m watching an invalid?
I ask him the same thing I asked Em. “You know you’re calling the landline?”
“Oh right, yeah, I, uh, your number is in my old cell.”
Which is here.
He cough-laughs a bit sheepishly. “I could only remember the house number.”
“So . . . I’m kind of on my way out the door.” Literally. I am literally leaving this very second.
On the other end of the line, I hear his clothing rustle as if he were juggling the phone in his shirt. Where is he calling from? Without caller ID I can’t even get an area code.
Not that I care.
“Oh sure, okay, well, could you tell your mom I took the lockbox with me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you know if she and Jack were looking for it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, well, they probably want the deed to the farm.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I place my hand on the door, pressing my palm against the glass. Outside, Ginger and Priya are both standing in the field, probably wondering where I am.
“So you’re on your way out, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Hanging with Toad?”
“We’re going out to the lake, actually. I’m leaving right now, actually.”
“Actually?”
“Yeah, actually.” I feel my internal temperature rise ten degrees. The hand holding the phone starts to get slick with sweat.
“Okay, well, let me give you my new number in case your mom . . . or you know, you want to call me in the future.”
“Uh-huh.”
He slowly recites the number while I pour myself a cup of coffee and pretend I’m interested. I hum the Twilight Zone theme song again in my head. That tune never gets old.
“Uh-huh, okay, yup, got it,” I tell my dad.
He sounds relieved when I assure him I’ve got all ten digits in the right sequence. “Thanks, Junior. I appreciate it.”
I wait for him to tell me why he left, to apologize for leaving, to say it was a mistake, but he just keeps thanking me.
I let the air between us grow heavy and stale, wait for him to puncture it, which he does because he can’t stand the quiet.
“I’ll let you go.”
“Yup.”
“Call me, okay?”
“Yup.”
He hangs up—finally—and I shove the conversation out of my mind.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Emily: meet u at lake