Chapter 9
Jake
T his is exactly why I didn’t want to make this call. My mom hardly lets me get a word in while she talks non-stop on the other end of the line.
“Why would you drive over the bridge when you knew there was a storm coming, Jacob? What were you thinking?”
I fight to keep my own voice steady while I try to calm her down. “I understand why you’re worried, Mom. I really do. But I had no control over this situation.”
That was the wrong thing to say because now she’s back to lecturing me on all the things I should have done differently.
I cut her off. “Yes. Believe me, I know it’s not ideal to be staying here, and maybe I should’ve asked Uncle Tim first. But it was an emergency, and I thought this might be preferable to drowning.”
“Do you really believe this is the right time to be giving me lip?” She snaps at me and suddenly I’m five again. Somehow every conversation with my parents reduces me to a child.
I wince. “No, ma’am.”
My mom starts in again without missing a beat. I put myself on mute and walk out to the garage, hoping Alice can’t hear my mother lay into me. I dig through the car in search of anything useful while she drones on.
Thank God I’m moving out. I don’t know Jordan well, but almost anything has to be better than dealing with this. Mom and I are getting nowhere. I’m not even sure why I called. I should’ve sent a proof of life text and blamed any lack of further communication on the weather. No matter what I do in this kind of situation, it will never be the right thing in my mother’s eyes, and she’s the easy one.
Score. There’s a bag of jerky in the center console and an old granola bar in the glove compartment, along with the pack of baby wipes I use for Hazel’s muddy paws when I take her to the park. I grab everything in one hand while I hold the phone to my ear with the other.
“Jacob, are you even listening?”
I have no idea what she said, but I unmute to tell her, “Alice and I are safe, and we can talk more about everything when I get home. Hopefully it won’t be long, but we need to wait until they reopen the bridge. Can you please take care of Hazel for me? I’m glad she has you there. Love you, mom.”
I hear her huff a disgruntled breath, but admitting I do still need her for something seems to appease her. For now.
I head back inside, where Alice is now sitting in the living room.
“I come bearing gifts.” I toss the granola bar gently, and it lands next to her on the sofa.
“Thanks,” she says, opening it and taking a bite while I tear into the jerky. She talks around a mouthful. “How long do you think it takes to develop scurvy?”
“Probably longer than a few days. Or else everyone who’s ever spent a weekend living off cold pizza would be in trouble.”
“Pizza at least has tomatoes on it, though. And sometimes peppers or pineapple.”
I groan and sit next to her. “Please don’t tell me you’re a pineapple-on-pizza person.”
She scoots further away and scrunches her face. “Say that three times fast. And yes, I am definitely a pineapple-on-pizza person. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to yuck someone else’s yum?”
“Says the woman who is currently turning up her nose at my jerky.”
“Because your jerky smells like someone dropped a leather shoe into a gallon of pepper and then sold it for consumption. In fact, you can’t convince me that’s not what’s happening there.” She points at my snack. “What did pineapple ever do to you? It’s sweet, it’s fresh, and it’s real food.”
“Pineapple by itself is fine. Pineapple on pizza is an abomination.”
“Separatist.”
“You know what? I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her. “You eat a piece of jerky, and when we get out of here, I’ll buy us an entire pineapple pizza and I’ll force myself to eat a slice.” I actually do wish she’d eat the jerky. Maybe she’d be less inclined to bite my head off if she had a little more protein in her.
She seems to give my offer some serious consideration before responding. “I think we’ve reached a stalemate because, while I would like to put up a good fight for pineapples everywhere, I will not be putting your meat stick anywhere near my mouth.”
I almost choke on the bite of jerky I’m chewing, but then I have to laugh.
Alice stomps off to the kitchen, I assume to get away from me. My eyes lock on those tiny denim shorts as she walks away. Every part of me except one knows it’s a terrible idea, but if she ever changes her mind about wanting a taste of my meat stick, I’d happily oblige.
It’s not long before she returns with a deck of cards in her hand. “Look what I found. Do you remember how to play Speed?”
I nod. At least now we have something to do to pass the time. I deal and Alice arranges her stack neatly in her hand while I divide the remaining cards into two piles on the table. It’s been a long time since I’ve played Speed with anyone, but it comes back to me quickly. When I nod, we each turn over a card from one of the piles and begin stacking as fast as we can. She wins the first hand, but I win the second. By the third round, we are both hitting our stride as we flip our cards onto the piles. I have to admit, it’s nice to hang out with her again. It reminds me of old times.
Alice must feel it too, because she raises her eyes to mine while she shuffles the deck and gives me a real smile, one I haven’t seen in a long time. I miss seeing her look at me that way, and I still can’t figure out exactly when everything shifted between us.
I stare at my cards because I’m too much of a coward to make eye contact when I say, “Can I ask you something? When did we stop being friends?”