Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jeff
I’m just finishing up my fifteenth voicemail to my sister when the doorbell interrupts my plea/demand that she call me back.
I toss my phone onto the kitchen counter and make my way to the intercom beside the window, pulling the white lace curtains to the side to see Meredith, Devon, and Kevin standing on the brick sidewalk that lines Washington Square.
The lace between my thumb and pointer finger, along with every other item in this fully furnished apartment, would not be my first choice, but eight months was too short a time to give a shit about interior design.
I watch Kevin shift the pizzas he’s carrying to his other hand as Devon catches sight of me staring down and lifts her hand in a what-the-fuck-let-us-up gesture. I buzz them up.
“Pizza, beer, and strippers,” Meredith calls from the foyer at the bottom of the steps as I hold the apartment door open.
“Bring them up,” I tell her.
Devon carefully makes her way up the steps. She must still be in pain. Hopefully, she’ll let me check out her ankle tonight. She’s dressed in full sweat clothes, her hair in a top knot still wet from the shower and somehow, she looks gorgeous.
“Did you put out Monday’s outfit?” I ask her.
She reaches the top of my steps, a little out of breath, and I don’t step aside.
“I put out the whole week. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail,” she explains while brushing past me, lifting her chin. She makes her way into the kitchen and starts putting the beer into my fridge like she’s done it a thousand times, even though it’s my first time having any of them here.
“Hey.” Kevin puts the pizzas on the coffee table and looks around the apartment. “No wonder why you didn’t want to host. This place looks like my grandmother’s grandmother lived here.”
“What? You don’t like lace?” I ask, picking up a doily from the end table and tossing it at him like a frisbee.
“Only for the thongs he wears,” Meredith says from behind me.
I turn to find her trademark grin stretching the tan skin around her eyes.
She’s holding a box that I know must be another care package from my mother.
Apparently, financial troubles aren’t as important as sending me well-intentioned-but-insane gifts.
My phone rings from the counter, and with the exceptional timing she’s always been known for, my mother’s face appears on the screen.
But before I can get to it, Devon accepts the call on speaker.
“Hey, Mom—”
“J.J., did you get the package? I have my tracker up and it says delivered.” She sounds excited about this one which doesn’t bode well for me.
Meredith is still smiling as she brings the package to the counter and puts it down next to the phone.
“Yeah, it just arrived along with some friends.” I start to tear the tape off the box, but the loud ripping sound doesn’t drown out my mother’s excitement.
“I’m so glad you made friends. Is the handsome, blonde rich guy there? Calvin?”
“Jesus, Ma. You are on speaker and Kevin is blushing.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Harrison. You aren’t the first mom to notice my good looks,” he tells her, and Devon nods her confirmation.
“Who else is there, J.J.? That pretty little thing you’ve been volunteering with?”
Oh lord. Really, Mom? I can feel Devon’s eyes on my face as I keep my laser focus on lifting the flaps of the box. There’s an insane amount of packing peanuts inside. I’m elbow deep in them by the time I can think of how to answer my mother’s embarrassing question, but Devon beats me to it.
“I’m guessing that’s me—Devon. How are you, Ms. Harrison?” None of the snark and sass is in her tone that I’m accustomed to receiving. I imagine this is the polite voice she uses with her students’ parents.
“Oh yes! Devon. I’ve heard a lot about you, honey. You’re a schoolteacher like my Jenny!”
Devon smiles like she always does when she talks about her students. “I am. How’s Jenny’s year going?”
“Oh wonderful, honey. She loves her class this year.”
“Mom, what is this?” I cut in. I’ve found a box labeled Almond Moo in the swooshing abyss of foam.
“It’s an Almond Moo, honey!” She says honey like it could be substituted with dipshit.
What the eff is an Almond Moo? I hand it across the counter to Devon and she lifts the lid and takes out the pitcher-like object.
“I’ve seen these before on a telecommercial!” Devon tells her in an excited voice.
“What does it do?” Kevin asks from over my shoulder.
I want to tell them all to stop asking questions—to stop humoring this absurdly kind but misguided woman, but my mother is answering him before I can open my mouth to speak.
“It milks your nuts, dear.”
Meredith’s jaw drops to her navel. Kevin presses his lips together to hide his smile. And even Devon lets out a small burst of a giggle. But it’s Meredith I keep my eye on, her dark pupils are gleaming as her mind pokes and prods at every avenue she could take.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Harrison. Could you repeat that?” she asks, a slow smirk spreading as she stares right at me.
“I said it milks—your—nuts.” My mother articulates every consonant in a way that makes Meredith’s eyes widen with joy.
“Ma, don’t—”
“So, Ms. Harrison,” Mer cuts in, “if Kevin borrows the Almond Moo, will it milk his nuts, too?”
“Don’t answer that, Ma.”
“Is that, Meredith? The scary one?” she asks. “Of course, it will, dear. Just make sure Calvin cleans it after J.J. uses it just in case. You don’t want to mix nut milk. It’ll ruin the flavor.”
Meredith nods as if this isn’t the first time she’s heard this bit of advice. I pick up the phone and press the speaker button before she can ask my mother for any more pearls of wisdom on milking nuts.
“Thanks for the gift, Mom. Can I call you tomorrow?” I ask, shaking my head as I walk away from my friends’ belly laughs.
“Of course, honey. Tell your girl to have a great school year.”
She’s not my girl. I look at Devon who is looking at the bottom of my brand-new nut milker.
“I’ll tell her you said that. Can you have Jen call me?”
“Of course! Enjoy your nut milk, hun.” I cringe. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you.”
“Love you more.”
I toss the phone on the couch and point my finger at Meredith who puts her hands in the air as I step forward.
She looks at me with the serious face I imagine she uses to give bad news to patients. “Let’s get this party started and milk some nuts.”