Next Level Love
Chapter 1 Lincoln
LINCOLN
@theanswerisno:
Don’t go in there
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t take advice from strangers
@theanswerisno:
You’ll be dead in 3 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
Who are you and why are you in my DMs?
@theanswerisno:
2 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t trust you
@theanswerisno:
1 second
@pancakesareelite:
No
@pancakesareelite:
NO!
@theanswerisno:
Welcome to the Engineering Lobby
Main quest: Pack up my old bedroom. Side quest: Be consumed by nostalgia.
“Donate it all,” I yelled down the hallway.
I spun around on the once-black rug, which had faded to various shades of gray.
There was too much to do. Growing up, I had nothing and everything at the same time.
At least, that was how it felt while sorting through the stacks of used comic books, odd blocks of Legos, and shelves of superhero figurines that were already old when I’d received them.
I swung open one of the closet doors. The white plastic hangers drooped with at least ten crinkled items hanging on top of each other.
There was so much clutter. So many things my mother wouldn’t let go of.
I grabbed as many hangers off the rail as I could manage and tossed them into a box. My mother walked through the doorway at that exact moment and gasped. “You’re giving everything away?”
The scent of cinnamon reached me before she set down two steaming cups of chai. My favorite. Regardless of the weather, Mom used every opportunity to offer me a warm beverage.
She walked up to the overflowing basket in the corner. “Maybe there’s something you’d want to keep.” After rummaging through the pile, she pulled out the black-and-brown, homemade pirate costume she’d sewn the night before a kindergarten Halloween party. “You loved this.”
I took the outfit and held it against my body, which had more than doubled in height. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
Mom burst out laughing as though I were the funniest person in the world. She had always done that, ever since I was a kid—I couldn’t resist taking advantage of it.
“I’ll bet you want to keep this.” She pulled out a box from underneath the dresser before lifting the lid and revealing my old Atari console and a stack of cartridges.
She was absolutely right about that.
“Your children will love this.” Her soft, green gaze met mine.
It was like looking into a broken mirror. The same refined nose, wide mouth, and deep brown skin, but I had my father’s brown eyes and dark lashes. And every time she looked at me, it was as though I could see her thinking about him.
Which often had me thinking about him too. About his untouched study.
No. Don’t go there. Not yet.
Shaking off the thought, I resorted to teasing my mother instead. “Who are these kids you keep mentioning?” I took the console and set it aside. “I haven’t been paying child support.”
Her hearty laugh filled the room once more. She pinched my stubbled chin, and her gold bangles jingled as they slid down her forearm. “Someday, you will make me a grandmother.”
“Humans haven’t evolved enough to procreate on our own, so…” I walked over to the other side of the room and cracked open the window. Maybe it had something to do with talking about my love life, or lack thereof, but the room was significantly stuffier than when I’d first walked in.
“Is my child not enough for you?” a voice joked from the doorway. Claire, my best friend for as long as I can remember, tossed a stack of three empty boxes at my feet. “Those are the only boxes I could find.”
“These are the only boxes you found before you got too lazy to look any further,” my mother said, pulling Claire in for a tight squeeze. “Where is your handsome husband and wonderful little girl?”
“Daddy-and-daughter playdate.” Claire kicked off her sandals and glanced around. “Hey, when did you move the bed?”
“Last week,” I said, rubbing my lower back, which had paid the price.
The oven timer pinged, and my mother lifted her index finger. “Be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Claire hoisted herself onto the desk and rummaged around in her tote bag before pulling out a novel.
“You don’t look like you’re here to help.” I took off my glasses and cleaned them using the end of my T-shirt.
“Moral support,” she said, and placed her finger on her lips. “Now shush, the enemies are about to become lovers.”
I stifled a laugh and kept my mouth shut as instructed. I preferred it that way and enjoyed the sound of Claire turning the page, the traffic that had become white noise, and the distinct sound of my mother using her glass cutting board.
With a deep inhale, I continued my quest to clear this room. If I finished early enough, I could squeeze in a gaming session before bed, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would be online to play with me.
But as much as I wanted to throw everything in the donations box, I got stuck. My brain got stuck. Some items stopped me for a few seconds while others pulled me back to a previous life, keeping me there.
Traffic picked up, and instead of the quiet hum from earlier, there was hooting and the jarring sound of different songs and radio stations overlapping. I could hear the birds. I could hear the neighbors talking. I could hear too much.
I stared at the item in my hand. Frozen. I couldn’t think of anything except for everything I was hearing.
“Much better,” Claire said as the window snapped shut.
Silence filled the room, and the buzz in my brain softened. She offered me a knowing smile before climbing the desk and resuming her reading journey.
My mother reappeared, and Claire shoved her book underneath her thigh. Mom shot her a playful glare and then turned her attention to me. “Lincoln, I forgot to tell you, there’s a leaky faucet in the kitchen. Could you check it out?”
“Sounds like a job for a plumber.” I straightened to my full height, which put me more than a head above her. “I could call one.”
She laughed as if it were the most absurd suggestion before grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the kitchen, where the left-side faucet released a small droplet every few seconds.
“We can fix it ourselves,” she said.
I grew up hearing that line, and for the longest time, it was true.
“I design roads and analyze traffic.” I leaned in, scrutinizing the shiny faucet.
“Exactly. Roads are like pipes, and traffic is like water, same thing.” She waved her hands and left the kitchen, allowing me time to search for YouTube tutorials on the basics of plumbing.
Mid-tutorial, Mom returned. The kettle boiled for our fourth cup of chai, and gathering from the lemony scent, cake would be involved.
She offered me a slice of carrot cake with lemon icing. “Thank you for doing this. You’re a good son.”
Never knowing what to do when she said these things, I shrugged and smiled.
“Well, I haven’t completed any of the things I came here to do.
So don’t thank me yet.” I opened and closed the faucet, testing the pressure.
“I’ll have to stop at the hardware store.
I don’t suppose you’ll hand over this place with this tiny flaw? ”
“It has to be perfect.”
I shoved a forkful of cake into my mouth, savoring the sweet and sour combination.
“How’s work?” Mom stared at me while I stared at the faucet, willing it to stop leaking because there was only so much the internet could teach me in half an hour.
I swallowed the cake. “Oh… um…”
Before I could ramble off my potential news, Claire walked in, her nose still stuck between the pages of her novel.
My mother offered her a slice of cake but kept her focus on me. “When will they let you know about the promotion? You work so hard for this company. They don’t recognize your efforts.”
Claire’s gaze zapped upward. “You haven’t told her yet?”
My mouth dropped open, and my mother ran forward and pinched my shoulder.
“Ow,” I yelped.
“Really, Lincoln?” Mom narrowed her eyes but couldn’t resist smiling. “Why didn’t you lead with that? So you got it?”
“Did you just come here to cause trouble?” I asked Claire. “I was about to tell her.”
Claire grinned. “Your mom gives me cake in exchange for secrets about you.”
“It’s hardly a secret…” I shifted on my feet. “They haven’t promoted me. They’re offering me a temporary post as the acting manager of the Roads division to see if I can handle it.”
My mother’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Of course you can handle it. What are they implying? You’ve been there for over a decade, and you’re the best civil engineer there.”
“Engineer? Very possibly.” I doubted everything in my life but not my technical knowledge. There couldn’t be doubt in a field where there was no room for error. “Manager? Very questionable.”
“I’ve never liked your boss. He always seemed jealous of your brilliance,” Mom said. If my mother was a cartoon character, a puff of smoke would erupt from her head. “How does he plan on testing you now?”
“Well… I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Obviously, I’ll have to work on more projects and”—I threw my head back, groaning—“manage people.”
“We know how you feel about people.” Claire burst out laughing. My mother joined her.
I glared at them.
“We’re teasing.” Mom patted my shoulder. “I’m sure all the people you work with will be exactly like you.”
“That would be a nightmare.” I picked up my phone and scrolled through another step-by-step tutorial on fixing a leak. At the very least, it distracted me from my growing discomfort at the idea of having people following me around at work, asking me questions.
My mother laughed again and pulled me in for a tight hug.
“Do you think you can do it?” Claire asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
I shrugged, wiggling out of my mother’s powerful grip. “I don’t know… I like design and theory. I don’t know if I want to or can manage and—” My words cut off the second I spotted my beaming mother. I found myself nodding, fighting the grimace threatening to creep onto my face.
“Oh, Lincoln.” She smiled. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You have your dad’s brain and all the opportunities he didn’t, thanks to how very hard he worked.
He always spoke about the civil engineers with such admiration.
” Her brows bunched, and her eyes grew misty.
“Seeing you achieve this is a dream come true. A manager in the family.” She walked away and grabbed her phone. “I must tell my sisters.”
My throat tightened. All the hesitation I had regarding this promotion was replaced by a strong sense of duty.
She was right. My dad had worked himself to the bone for us, and he’d have been so proud.
We’d spent countless hours driving through town talking about the buildings he’d laid bricks on or tiles he’d grouted.
He was the reason I went into engineering.
The longing settled in my bones, in my chest. Everything ached.
Before my mom could say anything more about me, my tentative promotion, or my father, I turned the questions on her. I moved the conversation to her book club, crochet club (not to be confused with her knitting club), and when the new house may be ready for her and her new family to move in.
“Oh.” Mom turned away and wiped the already clean counters. “You know, it’s already ready. It’s just that it takes time to move and pack and…” She inhaled a shaky breath.
She didn’t have to explain how hard it was to leave this place behind.
Despite being as close as can be, conversations with my mom often felt like a game of hot potato. We tossed around the hard topics, afraid of being burned.
Claire snapped her book shut. “Enough boring talk. It’s my turn, and I want to tell you about the hot, grumpy pirate who is, obviously, in love with the girl who has nothing but a knife and determination.”
I grinned as she recounted the three books before this one.
For some reason, I was reminded of Lily.
Maybe it was because her weapon of choice—in most of the games we played online—was a knife.
Maybe it was her sheer determination to win despite being outranked by most of her challengers.
Maybe it was because sometimes it felt as though I were falling in love with her.
Whatever it was, once I started thinking about Lily, it was hard to stop. Because thinking about Lily was the easiest thing in the world.
And I thought about her often.
As if summoned, my phone lit up and her username flashed across my screen. I couldn’t resist the smile stretching across my face.
@pancakesareelite:
I’m ready when you are.