Sunday, Aug 17th
Ace
The quiet of my newly cleaned and restored apartment is depressing in the worst way as I open the refrigerator door for the tenth time, looking for food to fill my stomach with something other than feelings.
I miss Julia. I miss the strides I was making. I miss bedtime cuddles, and it hasn’t even been two hours since I was still staying with her.
With questionable judgment, I pick up my phone off the counter and walk over to the couch, dialing my mom on FaceTime. Going to her for help is susceptible to all kinds of results, based on her mood and time of the month and how much my dad has been in her business that day, but I’m just desperate enough.
After making so much freaking progress with Julia in the last three days, I feel like it’s worth the risk.
It rings three times before my mom picks up, and when she does, my dad’s face is there too, his chin resting on her shoulder. It’s a jump scare if I’ve ever seen one.
“Jesus. So I guess you guys are together.”
My mom laughs. “It’s Sunday. I can’t keep him off me. But don’t worry, he goes back to the office to be the provider I expect him to be tomorrow. Do you want to call back then?”
My dad frowns, offended, of course.
“No, that’s okay. We can talk now. It’s not like both of you don’t know the Julia situation anyway.”
“You’re in loveeee, son,” my dad corrects. “Don’t be afraid to say it. Fear is the biggest cockblock I’ve ever met.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’m in love. I’m not afraid to say it.” I shrug and laugh a little. “Maybe to her, but not to the two of you.”
“Well, that’s step one, son. And if you inherited even half my ball size, you’ll take it all the way soon.”
“Wow, Mom, so glad I called you,” I remark sarcastically, which makes my dad roll his eyes and pretend to zip his lips.
My mom laughs uproariously and shoots him the finger before focusing on me. “So, what do you need from me, Acer? Some fake STD results for the Chad kid? A couple hundred grand? What is it?”
“Jeez, Mom, no. This isn’t the Brazilian black market or some shit. I just need advice. I really feel like I was getting somewhere with her while I was staying there. I was getting the one-on-one time, the connection. It was boxing out whatshisface almost completely all on its own.”
“And you don’t want the advice to be to just tell her that you’re in love with her?”
“No.” I groan. “Pretty sure I’ve established that Julia isn’t ready for that kind of knowledge yet.”
“Well then, it sounds to me like you need to move back in. I can cut off your money if you want. Make a big scene about evicting you?”
“She’ll never buy that,” I argue. On a whim, I navigate off the FaceTime screen and onto my texts, and shoot one to Julia quick, asking her to come over when she gets a chance. If I’m not off the phone, I’m sure my parents will come up with something to throw out on the fly.
“All right. I can get you robbed pretty quickly,” she offers. “I know a couple F-list actors I had during a photo shoot last week who are absolutely desperate for work. Wouldn’t even cost us very much money.”
Good grief, this advice is getting darker by the second. And I’m not convinced it wouldn’t land me in jail.
“Never mind. Forget I called.” There’s a knock on the door and Julia’s voice on the other side, so I try to beg off. “I gotta go. That’s her at the door.”
“No!” my dad protests. He even pretends to unzip his mouth and then zip it closed again for dramatic effect, opening it once more to add, “I have an idea.”
“Fine,” I grumble, taking them with me as I jump up and run to the door. As I pull it open, I steel my nerves, willing my ever-present gift for bullshit to rise to the surface like cream on coffee.
“Hey,” I say as casually as I can manage, holding the phone out to the side so Julia can see the screen when my parents start screaming their hellos.
“Juliaaaa!”
“Hi, hi, hi!”
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Kelly,” she greets with a wave before bugging her eyes out at me and whispering. “You said to come over when I could. What’s up?”
