She sniffed. “I can’t believe you took off with Stan.”
“Why not? Have you seen him?”
That earned me another sniff. “Are you going into work today?”
“On my way as we speak.”
“Coming home after?”
“No. Stan invited me back to his place.” Not wanting her to comment, I rushed to add: “I really like him, Raisin.”
“Are you sure you two didn’t know each other before Cancún?”
Though I heard her suspicious disbelief—beforeI had a chance to answer—I merely said, “Nope. Our meeting was a happy accident.”
George: She’s told you what’s wrong?
Me: No. Aside from needing stimulating conversation
George: That’s why she’s been in a funk?!
I hmphed. Maybe he wasn’t so perfect, after all.
“If you say so.” Raisin translation:liar. “When are you coming home? Kitty! Are you listening to me?”
“I’m texting George. Millie’s losing her mind.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
I pondered the situation. “Potentially both.”
“That’s what happens when you have kids so close together. I’m telling you that’s why Ma’s whackadoodle. I’d have the Sight too with that many of Da’s offspring driving me mental. Have you ever thought about how much food they must have gone through?”
I cackled. “I prefer not to give myself nightmares.”
“Agreed. You didn’t answer.”
“Didn’t answer what?”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Jesus, Raisin, when did you become my keeper?”
“You’ve never done this with a guy before. It’s… Are you sure you’re okay?”
It was impossible not to be annoyed but I got it. We were very protective of one another.
I still lied: “I promise I’m fine. Now, I gotta go. I’m about to walk into the hospital.”
“Okay. Text me later?”
“Sure thing. Bye, sis. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
As we hung up, guilt hit me. As did that touch of wistfulness. There’d never been a time that I was sick where my ma hadn’t fussed over me and I missed it. Lauren rocked, Stan too, but nothing beat your mom’s hovering.
Feeling oddly weepy, I stared at the busy streets, grateful that I was on the afternoon shift and that the lunchtime rush had died a bit.
