“Oh, well, what a surprise,” I say when Dad releases me. I straighten my shirt and give the apartment one more scan. Nothing seems to be screaming “hockey man lives here.” “Sorry that I’m not properly dressed.”
“Oh, please.” Mom waves her hand dismissively. “No need to dress up on our account.”
“And you brought me flowers.” I take the vase. “How kind.”
“We didn’t.” Mom waggles her eyebrows at me. They didn’t? “They were at your doorstep when we arrived.”
Hmm, I thought I heard a knock when I was going to the bathroom but just chalked it up to the noises of living in an apartment building.
“Who could they be from?” Mom asks, following me into the kitchen while Dad shuts the door and takes his shoes off.
Who could they be from? Great question. No one sends me flowers, so I honestly have no idea.
Wait . . . they can’t be.
They wouldn’t be.
Eli would never send me flowers.
There’s no reason to.
And we don’t do that, romantic gestures like flowers.
Would hesend me flowers?
“There’s a card,” Mom says as she reaches for it, and out of pure survival instincts, I swat her hand away and rip the card out of the holder and hold it against my chest.
“No one,” I say with panic. “They’re, uh, they’re from me.” That sounds believable. “Yeah, you see, I read this book that you should treat yourself to certain things you don’t normally get, so yeah, I sent myself flowers. Sounds kind of lame, but trust me when I say, my spirits were just lifted seeing how much I care for myself.” I toss the card on the counter. “Anyway, do you guys want any ice cream? I think I have a quarter of a pint I can offer you.”
“The card says it’s from E. Who’s E?”
I whip around to see my mom reading the card. What on earth? Isn’t privacy a thing for old people?
“And why is this E telling you thanks for the hug?”
He wrote that? What would possess him to do such a thing?
“Err, well E, is me.” I nod and smile manically. “E stands for the E in Penny. Have to come up with a nickname, you know. That was part of the blog post. Nickname yourself. Clearly, I’m not very creative. Anywho, I hugged myself earlier, long and hard, and boy, oh boy was it a great one. So great that I decided to send myself flowers.” I sigh. “So, yeah, about that ice cream.” I motion toward the freezer.
Dad is now on the couch and holds up my phone. “Are you calling yourself too? Seems like an Eli is trying to get in touch with you.”
Jesus Christ!
Panic swells in my chest as I run up to the phone and snatch it out of my dad’s hand before he could do something completely asinine like answer it himself.
“Eli?” Mom coos. “Ooo, who is this Eli human?”
“Telemarketer,” I screech as I hurry down the hall. “Excuse me for a moment.”
I find the first door I see, open it, and shove myself into the hall closet, bumbling over my vacuum and dodging empty plastic hangers. When I answer the phone, I whisper, “Hello?”
“Penny? Is everything okay?”
“No,” I hiss at him. “Everything is not okay. My parents are here.”
“They’re . . . what? They’re there, at the apartment?”
“Yes, and they are questioning who the flowers are from. Which are gorgeous and thank you, but why did you send flowers? And you said thank you for the hug? Now my mom thinks I nicknamed myself E, and I send myself flowers and hug myself. Do you know what kind of loser status my parents must think I’m at right now? I’m pretty sure they’re questioning all of their parenting decisions at this very moment.”
