21, Aries, Yoga Enthusiast, Horrible Bowler
Kudos for a sense of humor or blunt honesty, I guess.
Her posts are mostly selfies. She looks flawless and fun in all of them.
I’ve always been the type of person who is rock solid in areas like responsibility, work ethic, and daily flossing, but unfortunately woefully lacking in others. In other words, I’m human. But damn if looking at this woman doesn’t stir up all kinds of feelings in me. I suppose jealousy or rage should comeout on top, but more than anything else, I just feel boring…and old.
Old.
At thirty-four.
She’s twenty-one. Biologically, I couldn’t be her mother. But in my mind, that ages in dog years, I could.
And Chance is thirty-nine. He could biologically be her father.
Gross.
Hypocrite, my memory chides, as it flips through a quick highlight reel of Ever images from earlier tonight.
I sigh and then whisper, “Since I’m going to hell anyway,” as I search Thicker Than Water, follow them, and scroll through their feed.
There are only a dozen photos, but Ever is in most of them. And, whether posed or candid, he’s eye-catching.
My eyelids are drooping and heavy. I need to shut this down. Sleep now, stalk later.
Before I do, I choose the five best photos of the night, edit them to black and white, and include them along with a twenty-second video clip in a single post. No caption, no hashtags, because that’s how I roll.
three
Not enough hours later,when I shuffle into the kitchen, Benji is making a bowl of cereal.
“Morning,” he mumbles.
“Morning, sweetie. How was the band session last night?” I ask through a yawn.
He looks as tired as I feel. “Good. The new piano player Luca is amazing.”
Turning on the Nespresso, I yawn again and respond, “Right on. Where’s he live?”
“Florence.”
Social media never fails to astonish me with its effortless ability to bring people together from all over the world. “Italy? Do you even realize how unreal that is?”
He shrugs, because he’s fourteen and this is all he’s ever known. “How was the concert?”
The brewing coffee smells like life, and I need that infusion. “We got lucky. The band was acoustic, so tamer than what I usually listen to, but they were really good.”
“Not much about them online, but I watched a few YouTube videos. Not my type of music, but I wouldn’t complain about seeing them up close.”
I blow on the lava in my mug before taking a sip and agreeing, “Mmm-hmm. No complaints here, super cute up close.”
“Mama needs coffee, stat,” Lola croaks. She’s wearing her pink, fluffy robe, and her tangled hair has yet to be brushed but is piled on top of her head in a lopsided bun. “The hangover of the year hath descended upon thee.” She proclaims it like she’s performing in Shakespearean theater.
Since we take our coffee the same way, I hand her my mug and go make another.
“I saw Aunt Soph’s post. She was just telling me about your night,” Benji says.
“I clearly overindulged, but the band was so good. It was fun, right, Soph?”
