Maybe I should. Although I’m not sure how that would help right now, because it doesn’t really matter. Nico’s not into guys. I think.
I close my eyes as my stomach swoops again, not in a comfortable way. I actually have no idea whether he’s into guys. Or girls. Or anyone else for that matter. He’s never,evercommented on anyone of any gender. Not that I can remember. And I’m pretty sure I would remember.
I clear my throat. “I asked him to come with me. To California, I mean.” It’s a half admission, if she reads into it, and I’m suddenly even more nervous than when I was standing up on that stage about to start my speech not more than an hour and a half ago. I continue on, hoping to pull attention away from whatever I hadn’t quite said. “He said he couldn’t leave because he couldn’t afford it and he’s not going to college anyway. Said he was planning to stay here. He, uh, did get that job as an assistant at the library, although I think that’s supposed to be temporary over the summer.”
Mom is quiet again, and I risk a glance over at her. She’s looking ahead but biting her lower lip. That’s another tell of hers. She’s trying to not say what she wants to. But she’ll end up saying it. Shealwaysdoes, like she just can’t get herself to hold back.
I turn back to the window, close my eyes, and take a long, accepting breath. Then, I say, “I don’t know how to convince him, but the thought of leaving him here while I go...” I press my hand into my thigh to try and get my leg to stop its anxious bouncing. “It hurts. It hurts my heart.”
That’s the best I can do right now.
I’ve never told another soul, and I know I still really haven’t. Or at least I haven’t said the words out loud to her.
I’m in love with Nico West.
But her response, short as it is, tells me exactly as I suspected. She probably already knows.
“Oh, sweetie...” Her hand reaches over and covers mine on my thigh, and she squeezes gently. “Maybe you should talk to him about it again.”
“Heh.”
“No, I’m serious. When did you talk before? Maybe if...” She trails off for a minute before she does what she always does and starts troubleshooting, getting much too practical about things. “Rent in Palo Alto is impossibly expensive, but maybe if he saves up over the summer and then he’s able to find a decent job out there, and maybe if he looks a little farther south for housing and works out a good budget...”
“It’s impossible, Mom.”
“Nothing’s impossible—”
“—unless you don’t try. I know, Mom. But—”
“Ohhh, and actually! Actually!” Her hand grips mine, and she lifts it up and then pats it back down on my thigh. “I know someone!”
“You . . . what?”
“I think she’s in San Jose, not Palo Alto, but that’s close enough, isn’t it?”
I’m lost, andshe knows it, but right then, the automated voice on her phone chimes in, telling her to exit the freeway. She’s quiet while she follows the directions from Google Maps, navigating us into downtown Omaha and to the restaurant. I see my grandparents’ car ahead of us now, turning into the parking lot, and we follow. After we pull into a parking spot a moment later and my mom kills the engine, she turns to me.
“I know a woman who’s the director of an art collective based in the Bay Area. She’s grown the collective to include hundreds of artists, and she runs events all year round and manages several galleries. She’s always looking for reliable employees.”
My chest tightens as my mom smiles at me, her expression a mixture of understanding, love, and encouragement, but also with a glint of something else. I think maybe it’s concern, but she doesn’t give me time to really figure it out.
“Talk to him, Alex. You don’t want to have regrets. You don’t want to always be wondering ‘what if,’ especially when it’s something—or someone—so important to you. There arealwayssolutions even—”
“—when they’re not easy. I know, Mom.” I drop my chin to my chest, and my hand automatically goes to my pocket so I can pull out my phone. “I’ll talk to him about it. Hopefully tomorrow.”
That seems to satisfy her, but when I look up at her, her eyes are still filled with what has to be concern. I force a smile and then hold up my phone. “Uh, can I meet you inside? I just want to send him another text, and I don’t want to make Grandma and Grandpa wait.”
She nods and then reaches over and ruffles my hair. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
After she leaves, I unlock the screen on my phone and open up my text messaging app. And my stupid heart skips a beat.
Nico (6:21 p.m.):Hey. Eat a shrimp for me. You owe me.
I laugh and shake my head, and my heart does it again as I grin and type back a quick response.
Alex (6:27 p.m.):ew never
