Farrah’s jaw dropped and he held back a laugh. “Has to be like looking in the mirror right now, huh?”
“Don’t tell him those things,” she said.
The Farrah he remembered could crack any crude joke, want to best any boy on the court or the track, and was always out for a good time.
Not loose. Not flirty with boys. Not even catty with girls.
Just an all-around good time and fun person to hang out with.
“What?” Archer said. “Mom gets up and her hair is falling out of her ponytail, she’s wiping her eyes, yawning and putting the coffee on before she gets in the shower.”
“How do you know those things?” she asked. “I have to drag you out of bed every day during the week for school, but on the weekends you get up before me. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Weekends are for fun,” he said. “That’s why. No one wants to get up if they’ve got to go somewhere they don’t want to be.”
“Ha, Mom,” Archer said.
He smirked at her frown. “I’m going to get ganged up on, I can tell already.”
The server came over and took their plates. Archer’s had been all but licked clean. He still had a few fries on his plate. Farrah had eaten only half her chicken sandwich and fries.
“Do you want a box for that?” the server asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“Does anyone want dessert?” the server asked.
He looked at Archer, the boy’s eyes wide. “Get it if you want.”
“Can I have the chocolate peanut butter cake, please?”
“Anyone else?” the server asked.
“I’m good,” he said.
Farrah shook her head and the server left to place the order after giving her a box for her leftover food.
“Dinner tonight?” he asked when her food went into the container.
“I can bring it for lunch tomorrow.”
“Even the fries?” he asked.
“Yep, food is food, cold or warm.”
“Don’t tell me you eat leftover cold fries,” he said.
“She does,” Archer said. “Mom eats everything cold. Pizza and chicken wings, spaghetti. Blah.”
The kid had his tongue out and was making gagging noises.
“Archer,” she scolded. “That’s not polite at the table. Tone it down.”
“But it’s gross,” Archer argued. “I tell you all the time at home.”
“No more gross than your dirty clothes on the floor,” she said, nudging his arm.
“Mom is a neat freak,” Archer said. “It’s annoying.”
