“Momma Schultz!” Dylan greets, and a gentle laugh filters through the line as Jack coughs, choking on his food.
“Maybe you should take smaller bites,” I suggest.
“Hi, Dylan. How’s my boy?” she asks, her accent thicker than Jack’s.
“He’s choking on his food right now, but other than that, he’s driving me crazy like usual,” Dylan says, while Coop rolls his eyes.
“Dude, that’s cold,” Nate says, shaking his head before rinsing his plate in the sink when Jack finally stops choking. “As entertaining as this shit is, I have homework to go back to.”
“Both of you can fuck off,” Jack croaks, and I’m trying to figure out if I should be concerned about Jack or highly entertained by the relationship the guys seem to have with his mom. Nate laughs as he makes his way toward the stairs, disappearing.
“Maybe he needs to try smaller bites when he eats, and then he wouldn’t choke. Tell Jack I said to be nice or none of the cookies I send in the next package will be for him,” she says, and Jack stands up so fast, his barstool falls backward as he makes a move for where Dylan’s standing.
“Give me that,” Jack says, reaching for the phone.
“No, I’m not done talking to her,” he argues, and Coop moves out of the way as Dylan holds the phone out of Jack’s reach, using his position on the counter to his advantage.
“Dylan, she’s my mom,” Jack complains, and I look at Ellie, trying to figure out this new piece of the puzzle, but she’s watching them with a smile.
There’s a sharp whistle, and both of them freeze. “Boys! What on earth are you two squabbling about? It’s hurting my ears,” Jack’s mom scolds, and Dylan sighs, lowering the phone to where they can both talk into it.
“Sorry, Momma,” Jack mumbles, and I clap my hand over my mouth to keep my laughter from spilling out. I never thought I’d see two grown men grappling over a phone like this.
“Is Coach Brown not working y’all hard enough at practice that you somehow still have energy to bicker like children?”
“Momma, you brought the cookies into it, and Dylan’s lying. I’m not driving him crazy.” If looks could kill, Dylan would be six-feet-under.
“I think you’ll survive without cookies for a month.”
Ellie leans over to whisper to me. “They get like this when she calls, but the cookies are totally worth fighting over. They’re the best I’ve ever had, and none of them are willing to share.”
“Really?” I ask, trying not to be jealous of Jack for having a parent who loved him because the only thing I ever got from mine was a lack of praise and the occasional home cooked meal.
“Oh yeah, his mom is seriously the best. I feel bad she only gets to see a couple of games in person a year because she can’t take the time off work, but she loves to watch Jack play. You’ll literally never meet a nicer woman than her,” she says just as Jack asks her when she’s visiting.
“I’m hoping the weekend after Halloween if everything works out. How are practices going? Are you still helping out with that underclassman?” she asks, and he smiles, leaning against the counter.
“They’re going good. Yeah, I’m still helping him. Richards has potential, but he needs to fine-tune his skills,” he says, and Coop makes a face, and if I had to guess, I’d say he isn’t the biggest fan of the underclassman. I’m not sure there are many people Coop actually likes, but I don’t think Johnny is one of them.
“Is everything okay? You sound?—”
“One sec, Momma,” Jack says, grabbing the phone from Dylan to take it off speaker. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says,excusing himself as he walks off, probably heading upstairs toward his room.
“What do you think that’s about?” Ellie asks her brother, who shrugs. I pick up my fork again, taking another bite.
“Maybe it has to do with the guy who came up to Jack on our way back from the trainers a few weeks back. I think Jack said he was friends with Johnny or something, but he was pissed off when he caught up to me at the truck,” Coop says, setting his plate down.
“Oh shit, was that the same night he didn’t come out of his room?” Dylan asks, and Ellie frowns.
“Well did you ask him about it?” she asks, and Coop looks at her like she’s sprouted a magical horn from her forehead.
I’m more curious to know when this happened because aside from being stressed about the midterm, Jack hasn’t seemed off at all to me.
“If he wanted to talk about it, then he would have said something.”
“You’re telling me he didn’t leave his room at all, and you never asked him about it?” I ask, and Dylan chuckles.
“No. We’re not like you. We don’t need to talk about our feelings until we’re blue in the face,” he says, and sometimes it’s easy to forget how simple-minded men are.
