Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
AUDREY
“It was great seeing you, too!”
“Say hi to your parents for me, now.”
“I sure will!”
I turn back to my cart and refocus on unloading groceries onto the conveyor belt.
I can’t believe I ran into Mr. Ron at H-E-B.
He looks good for being well into his seventies.
I haven’t seen him since Sarah’s graduation party.
He used to be in Space City Auto all the time, getting parts for his hobby renovations, but as it got harder for him to get around and his son got too busy, he hasn’t stopped in as much.
While I push my bagged groceries out of the store and into the parking lot, I pull up the family group text. Mom would love to hear this.
ME: You’ll never guess who I saw in H-E-B today! Mr. Ron! He says hello to everyone and hopes to stop by the store soon!
I don’t wait for a reply as I load everything in the car to head home.
Grocery shopping is the worst. It’s so dysfunctional.
Touch everything from the shelf to the cart.
Then the cart to the checkout. Then the cart to the car.
Car to the house. Countertop to the fridge.
It’s never ending and it’s completely inefficient.
Once everything is put away and the new snacks are sorted into their plastic pantry organizer, I check my phone.
No response from anyone.
That’s cool. People are busy. The shop doesn’t close for another hour anyway. Everyone will see it later when they’re home for the evening.
I pop a frozen pizza into the oven because it should be illegal to have to cook food and grocery shop on the same day.
I find my mind drifting as I wait for the timer to go off.
I’m not sure what I’m ready for, and I’m still one hundred percent sure he’s going to head for the hills when we get far enough into this that I tell him I don’t want kids.
Just how far is that, exactly? Is it like part of the pre-sex birth control conversation?
Like, “Oh yeah, I’ve got an IUD because I don’t ever want to reproduce.” Then we have to stop sexy time for him to break up with me because he knows he wants to have a son to teach how to play football? No, no.
I figure I have at least three months, and even then, he might get sick of me for a variety of other reasons before that.
If I told Nicole this, she would tell me that I’m convincing myself of things that won’t happen again, but I don’t care. She’s not here. And that’s exactly why I’m not calling her right now even though I know she’s on her way to her NICU night shift.
I continue to mull all this over while feeding the guinea pigs their dinner.
Tonight’s entree is all the ends of the green beans I trimmed for dinner yesterday.
Then I watch this guy on YouTube waste scammers’ time while I eat my BBQ chicken pizza.
This time he was testing to see just how long they were willing to stay on hold.
One guy did it for six hours before the YouTuber hung up on him.
I clear my plate and wash the sheet pan. When I check my phone again there are a couple messages in the family chat. I check them, expecting acknowledgements about me seeing Mr. Ron, but it’s Sarah sending a picture of Mikey in his tee-ball uniform.
Sarah
Batter up!
Mom
How precious!
Lane
He’s got his uncle’s athleticism.
That is a cute photo of Mikey. I’m sure Mom read my text and said something to Dad, which made her forget to text me back.
I don’t know what to say, but I don’t want to be rude, so I just heart react to the photo and put my phone down on the counter.
Then I pour myself a glass of red wine.
Should I text Noah? I glance at my phone on the kitchen counter and consider snatching it back up and messaging him.
I could tell him that sometimes it feels like my parents don’t care what I think or have to say if it doesn’t revolve around grandchildren.
I could ask him what he ate for dinner and what his plans are for tomorrow and let him take my mind off my family.
The first option will definitely end in questions I don’t want to answer.
So I decide not to text him as I take my wine and my phone with me to the dining room table.
It’s still early enough to get some work done before bed.
And why not, it’s not like I have anything else to do.