Chapter 10 Miles
TEN
Miles
My alarm doesn’t go off the next morning, and I’m definitely going to be late for work. Thea is going to give me crap for this.
The only reason I woke up is that my phone is ringing.
I stand up and stretch before I answer it.
It’s my mom—and that’s the only reason I answer. I’m not ready to handle people before eight in the morning. I need my coffee first.
“Hello?”
“Hi, sweetie. Are you at work?”
“Hey, Mom. No, not yet.”
“Oh good. I didn’t want to interrupt you if you were. How are you? Are you enjoying more time at the office?”
I put the call on speakerphone, and while my mom rattles off about five more questions about my health and well-being, I get dressed and go to the laundry room to switch out the stuff I forgot last night.
My mom is one of those caretaker moms. Always worried I’m not eating enough vegetables or getting enough sleep. Worried about my happiness. She’s kind and sweet, and my siblings and I probably pushed her patience to the brink as kids.
I grab a handful of wet laundry and toss it in the dryer.
“And then the camping trip is going to be everybody this year. Literally everyone is coming.”
I try to focus on what Mom’s saying, but then I spot something pink in my pile of clothes. It’s a pink T-shirt—not mine. I pull it out and look at it. It’s one of those that’s missing the bottom half.
I toss it into the dryer with my stuff—I might as well. Then I find a pair of purple socks and athletic shorts that are definitely not mine. They all go in the dryer with my stuff. I’ll leave it in the laundry room when it’s done.
“I sort of think Preston is going to propose to his girlfriend soon since Grandma is going to be there. You know I don’t like to talk bad about people, but that boy just drives me up a wall.”
I chuckle at that. “He’s got real talent, doesn’t he?”
“Ainsley’s frantic for someone else to win that bet with Goldie. How incredible would that be?” Mom full-on cackles at the thought of us winning that bet from Grandma Goldie.
There’s not a lot of love lost between her and Sharon—Dad’s sister and Preston’s mom.
It’s funny because most of my family is incredibly laid-back, but Sharon is the one who can take a good thing and make it bad.
It’s a special gift. Needless to say, we try to avoid that part of the family as much as possible.
“You don’t have anyone on the horizon, do you?”
I reach into the lip of the washer, where socks sometimes get caught. There’s something blue in there. I pull it out and realize it’s Lucy’s underwear. It’s a blueberry print.
“Well, I do have a roommate…”
“What? I didn’t know that.”
“Yep. Lucy has been living with me for a month now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in our other phone calls?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“And you’ve been here! You were at our house last week, and you said nothing,” she accuses. “Tell me about her.”
She acts like I’m telling her about a girlfriend.
“I was nervous to live with someone, but she’s been great. She’s a fun one.” I leave it at that. I don’t know why I’m going into so much detail. We’re just roommates.
“Oh, is that so? I’ve been meaning to get over to the valley. Maybe I can swing by sometime soon. I’d love to meet your roommate.” Mom has a conspiratorial tone, and now I wonder if she’s about to suggest I be the one to beat Preston on the bet.
But that would be ridiculous. My mom wouldn’t do something like that. Ainsley? Yes. But not my mother.
“I hate to run, Mom, but I’m late for work. I forgot to set my alarm last night.”
“Okay, sweetie. Have a great day. Love you!”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and realize that I’m still holding Lucy’s underwear. Good thing she isn’t home to see me being a weirdo.
I set the underwear on top of the dryer and hope she’ll find them eventually.
In the kitchen, there’s a plate of muffins on the counter, along with a note on a ripped piece of lined paper.
Hey, sorry I was snappy last night. These are apology muffins. Thanks for being such a great roommate!
~Lucy
The kitchen is clean, and there’s hardly any trace that she was cooking, except for the bowl and muffin tin drying in the sink drainer.
Oh, and my favorite mug.
I’m going to have to start hiding that thing if I ever want to drink out of it again.
I grab the mug out of the basket and pour a cup of hot coffee while I text Lucy back.
Me: You know you don’t have to bake apology muffins.
By the time I finish my coffee and get out the door, I have two texts on my phone.
Lucy: Yes, I did. I was way too grouchy at you, and I’M SO VERY SORRY.
And that’s why I don’t regret having Lucy as a roommate. Who can argue with someone so good-natured?
A text from my sister pings on my phone.
Ainsley: I couldn’t handle it. I told Grandma you have a serious girlfriend.
She told her what?
Me: ?
Ainsley: I know. I KNOW. I shouldn’t have done it, but now I did. SO, PLEASE GO FIND A SERIOUS GIRLFRIEND.
Right. Because you can find those in an aisle at the grocery store. What are little sisters for except to get you in trouble?
I don’t even bother texting her back. I’d rather text my roommate. At least she puts a smile on my face.
Me: Well, thanks for the apology muffins. But I promise it wasn’t a big deal.
Lucy: Eat the muffins. It will appease my guilty conscience.
Me: I understand you wanted to keep the peace between the two of you, but siblings yell at each other. My sister yells at me almost every time we see each other.
Lucy: Yes, but my relationship with Willa is a little different.
Me: You’re responsible adults?
Lucy: Exactly.
Me: Why do I get the feeling your relationship is extremely fragile?
Lucy: Don’t be nosy. It’s not a good look for you.
Me: I thought I wore that one pretty well.
Lucy: Wait, are you nosy?
Me: I’m the oldest in my family—I don’t have to be nosy. I already know everything.
Lucy: So very humble. Oops. A dog just puked in the waiting room.
I wonder if she was using voice-to-text because of the way she blurted out the ‘oops.’ For some reason, it makes me smile to picture her sitting in her veterinary office, talking to her phone so that it sends me a text.
I slip my phone into my back pocket and grab the whole plate of muffins before I head to work.
If all roommates are like Lucy, I don’t know why people live alone.