“Yeah.” He rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “I can see why you like it, but it was too sweet for me.”
“I’m glad I’ve eaten all the cake, so it didn’t hear your insult.”
His lips twitch as he flips onto his side, propping himself up by his elbow. “I didn’t realize maple cake was sentient.”
“All cake is, so you need to be careful what you say around it.”
He pokes me in the stomach. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who sleeps with a soccer ball!”
Surprise splays across his face. “How the fuck do you know about that?”
My eyes pop wide. “I was only joking, but you really do that?”
“Not anymore.”
“This I’ve got to hear.”
He sits up, in a cross-legged position, facing me. “I was ten when I got this special edition FIFA World Cup football for Christmas. It was the first year I knew that Santa wasn’t real, and while I’d asked for the ball, I wasn’t expecting to receive it because it was over a hundred euro and I didn’t think my parents would pay that much for it.”
“But they did.”
“Yeah. It was the best Christmas ever, and I slept with it tucked into my chest every night for a month.” His eyes light up, and then he’s scrambling off the bed and rummaging through the boxes still stacked against one wall. “Here it is,” he says, turning around with a ball in his hands. It’s pristine. White with swirls of blue, red, and green on it.
“Did you even play with it?”
He sits back on the bed, holding it out for me to inspect. “A few times.” He places it reverently into my hands. “But winter in Ireland can be brutal, and I’d come home with it covered in mud and grass. I washed and dried it carefully, but I was afraid it was going to get ruined, so Da built a shelf, and it was on display there until we moved here.”
“How many more of those boxes hold balls?” I inquire, running the tip of my finger lightly against the patterns on the ball as an idea forms in my mind.
“Not that many. I have four special edition balls I will be keeping until I die.”
I toss the ball at him, and his hands automatically clutch it to his chest. “What’s that for?”
I grin. “Don’t ever callmea weirdo again.”
19
CALLAN
Ipoke my head into the kitchen. “Da. The construction guys are here.”
He glances at the clock on the wall. “They’re early.”
“Good.” Ma kisses him. “They might get finished earlier.” She grabs her folder off the kitchen counter, hugging it to her chest. Astrid printed out all her drawings and plans, and made it into a folder for Mum, complete with material and paint samples, and other stuff I can’t remember. Ma is obsessed with the house remodeling, and it’s pretty much all she talks about these days. I tend to zone out after a while.
“Callan, remember to drop Erin off at the Nevans’ house after swimming,” Ma says, gripping my face to ensure I’m listening. “I don’t want her around all the dust and debris.”
Today, they are knocking down the wall between the kitchen and dining room to create one large space, and this week, they’re installing a new kitchen. When downstairs is finished, Ma plans to tackle the bathrooms and then the bedrooms. I can’t wait. I still feel like puking every time I take a shower.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Could you swing by the hardware store on your way back and pick up my order?” Da says on his way past.
“Sure.” I grab my water bottle from the fridge as he leaves to talk to the construction crew. “Any other requests?”
“Say hi to your pretty, talented girlfriend.” Ma kisses both of my cheeks. “And check Astrid is still okay to paint tomorrow.”
