My thumb hovered over the screen before I sent my next message.
Me: I think my mom and I are getting better.
Maria: Oh yeah?
Me: Yeah, whole ooey gooey moment.
Maria: That’s great. Healing is good. I should know. Still working on my end though.
Me: Yeah.
Maria: Imma take a nap. Diego went back to his mom’s for a bit, so it’s quiet here for once.
Me: Ok, love you. Get some sleep.
Maria: Don’t have to tell me twice. Love you.
I grabbed my laptop from my desk, settling crisscrossed applesauce on my bed. Scrolling through UGA’s website, I gnawed on my lip as I summoned the courage to open my email. I was surprised to find a response from Undergraduate Admissions already. Like I suspected, it was too late for fallenrollment but I could start in spring. I went through the to-do list they shared with me and decided to start with the shorter of the two required essays. After a few hours, I was eating the pecan pie when my dad knocked on the door. I looked up at him as he let himself in.
“Hey, bug. Whatcha up to?”
I gestured to my laptop with my pie. “Admission essays.”
“Fun, fun. Heard you and your mom talked.”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“That’s great, bug. Keep it up.”
I smiled at him as he turned to leave. “Let me know if there is anything you need.”
A few minutes later, I heard my mother’s laughter peal throughout the house as I worked on the paragraph that was giving me the most trouble. For the first time in a very long time, I was excited for the future. And when I finally came down from my room to join them for dinner, there was a lightness to my parents that hadn’t been there before.
Chapter Fifteen
? Holly ?
Friday evening I found myself juggling two large pizzas, a little gift bag, and a file folder that contained my admissions essays as I nudged my way into Maria’s house. The place was tiny—one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen you could sneeze in and hit three walls at once—but she’d made it cozy in that Maria way. The thin carpet was spotless, the walls freshly painted in a soft gray, and there were purple daisies in a vase on the island, holding court like royalty over the clutter of mail and prenatal vitamins. A massive white Dutch oven sat on the stove like she was preparing to feed a battalion instead of just herself.
Maria was sprawled on the couch, her belly rising like a small planet under her T-shirt. She made a valiant effort to roll upright when she saw me, but I shook my head.
“Girl, stop before you hurt yourself. Where are the plates?”
She flopped back down with a groan. “Paper plates. Cabinet next to the stove.”
I flipped the lid of the pizza box open, plates in hand. “One or two pieces?”
“Heartburn says one. Stomach says two.”
I handed her a plate, balancing it on her belly like a makeshift TV tray, and settled into the armchair. For a few blessed minutes, we just ate. The only sound was Maria’s occasional burp and the muffled groan that followed.
She broke first. “I am so ready to not be pregnant. Whoever said pregnancy is beautiful is a liar.”
I smirked around my slice. “It’ll be beautiful when you’re holding Lil Bit in your arms. Right now, yeah…not so much.”
She made a face but didn’t argue. Then she perked up. “Hey—did you bring your packet thing?”
“It’s right there.” I jerked my chin at the folder. “Rewrote that damn essay about thirty times. If they don’t let me in after this, I’m suing for emotional distress.”
