His eyes sweep the kitchen floor, gliding across the tiles that separate us. My eyes do the same because I’m following his lead just like he wants—exactly like he planned. That one welt on the back of my neck prickles to the surface because it knows he’s back.
“Life,” he replies. “I was mad about life and how fucked up it is—how short the shit is, how unfair it is, how unprepared I was for it. It’s a lot I could’ve been mad about that night, but nobody ever cared enough to ask.”
I sigh.
“I remember looking at the score and asking myself how the fuck I’m supposed to be proud ofthis—how I’m supposed to be present in this moment when Mom can’t even keep soup in her stomach.”
For a second, I forget about my problems and think about Mama’s words from that night in the kitchen—about Coach Williams and Angie being good people and how easy Mama made it sound to befriend a guy like Ace.
“Your mama stopped eating too? That’s how you know all that stuff you be telling me about—the clear Ensure and Zofran?”
He nods and his eyes skirt away from mine. “Yeah… something like tha—”
“Phat!” Mama screams and I jump. “Phat!”
“Ma’am?”
“Who you let in the house?”
“It’s me, Mom!” Ace answers, taking another swig from his cup.
“Boy… I thought I was gon' have to com—come out there with my pistol.”
He laughs, but I can’t because I hear the sluggishness in her words. I couldn’t even ask for the rest of his story about her ghost of a friend who only exists in old pictures and in this boy who makes my body feel twenty different ways at once.
Mama chokes out a cough, and he takes another gulp to the head.
“I’ll be in there to chop it up with you in a sec, Mom!” he yells while his cheek lifts. “Phat told me she was hungry so I’mma take care of that.”
My eyes get big.
I don’t know if his words are another one of those unknown but known sexual innuendos he likes to toss out in front of unsuspecting people that don’t live on Planet Ace, but Mama’s not stupid—at least she didn’t use to be.
“Good… good—good…” Her words drift off and I picture her balding head sliding to the side of her pillow like it was when I left her to answer the door.
Today is one of those ugly days, so she’s stuck. She’s so stuck that Ace even has her on his planet where bad things are good, anger isn’t a frowned upon response to life’s bullshit, and he chooses the vibe so the house isn’t angry anymore.
He snatches another solo cup from the pack he took from the cabinet and turns to the kitchen sink. My palms sweat when he swipes the water on and shoves the cup underneath it. When he brings it to his lips, my armpits tingle with sweat too.
“Hm… open.” He pulls the solo cup from his lips and twists it to the side his lips covered.
Then he pushes it toward me.
My watering mouth opens and so does his. I wrap my lips around the rim of his cup and my eyes flutter until they’re closed.
“Now who told you I can’t drink and you can’t be angry before eleven?” he whispers. “Hurry and swallow. I gotta hear the rationale behind this one.”
I swallow, trying to hold in my smile.
One day I’ll have to ask Chelsea if it’s possible to know what someone’s mouth tastes like without ever having your lips pressed against theirs.
“Uh… basic ass life norms tell us that.” I choke on the water. “Fuck… that’s cold.”
His laughter echoes through the kitchen. “But does it taste good?”
Yes. It tastes like him.
I shrug with a grimace and it makes him laugh harder despite Mama being asleep a few feet away. “I don’t know what the fuck basic life norms are, but I said you can be angry at ten ‘o’clock this morning—so be angry. I told you, you were doing a good job.”
